Enemy Of The State

I seemed to have strayed into some tutorial on morals, when truly, if you've read Normal to EatPB, you'd know that my intention here is to flesh out the tragedies of my life and figure out if these are normal occurrences. Figure out if I am normal. Figure out if my life is some warped twisted barbwire of abnormality and confusion - or if I am one shard of glass among many from this broken window God peers through. I have been down on my knees so many times; crawling and begging for mercy. I've been places I never thought I'd be in life and sometimes I wouldn’t understand how I got there. How did I get to be an enemy of the state?

A few years ago, I was down on my luck. My consulting jobs started drying up and I found myself out of work for over a year. At first, it was no big deal. I had quite a bit of money saved and was on unemployment. Sure, I couldn't travel anymore and go to fancy restaurants like Per Se or Aureole or Savini (II), but I was okay with that. About 6 months into being out of work my unemployment benefits were cut off. I had enough money to make it another 5 months and was scrambling to try to find something, anything. There was no 401k to fall back on, I was consulting, and I was young. The money I had saved would not sustain me long-term.

I went from making a substantial salary being a consulting Project Manager, to applying for jobs at McDonald's and Wendy's. I applied for everything I thought I could do, and would have been happy to receive any of those jobs, but I never knew how hard it was to get a job in fast food with my age and experience. I felt inadequate and obsolete. There was no one I could turn to, as I have mentioned in other posts, I am the top earner in my family. Everyone was struggling, and the last thing I wanted to do was be a burden to my mother or one of my brothers. So, I swallowed my pride, and emailed my father.

I cannot tell you what it took for me to get up the strength and courage to email the man, when I promised that I would do a little jig on his grave someday. The man who abandoned me and my brother, the man who sent my mother $2.00 a month to support us. The man who cancelled my health insurance when I was 10 years old - preventing from getting needed surgery on my ankle - a physical flaw I have to this day. The man who left my brother and me with a woman he called 'crazy'. There are no words to describe the sinking heart, or the teary eyes, or the pain and pressure I felt.

In the email, I explained that I had enough money to pay my next month's rent - but that would leave me with no money for anything else. No money for food, transportation, or my utilities. I knew that he was doing well, he was about to retire from a medical career, he had a house that was just about paid for, and his wife worked. The email I received back said that he had no money to give me. Not $500, not $1, and so - I was on my own.

One of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make was to go down to my local welfare center and fill out a form. I was mortified. How could I, Ms. Success, be here? I was surrounded by crying babies, children running up and down the aisles. Elderly men leaning against worn canes hacking up phlegm. Breastfeeding mothers who didn't speak English. I looked around and I saw no one like me. I was an anomaly, a well-educated person that was single with no children, applying for state aid.

When it was my turn to speak to the social worker, she went over my finances. Because I had money in the bank, I would not get a dime from the state. I explained that it was only enough to pay my rent, and I was told to come back when my account was empty. In the meantime, I got a one-time allotment of food stamps, and I was sent to a job training center. I couldn't understand why I was being treated this way. Wouldn't it cost the state more money to put me in a homeless shelter, give me aid, and food stamps, then to just help me maintain my living status? I couldn't comprehend it and it made me feel so defeated and down-trodden. That's when I became an enemy of the state.

At the job training center, there were only a handful of people who had college degrees. When my counselor looked at my resume, he asked me why I was there. I said I couldn't find work; he frowned, and pointed me to a chair. I sat for hours listening to tips on interview skills and how to dress for success - it was all old hack for me, but I stayed and listened anyway, intently.

Some days we would just sit quietly, while others had their resumes reviewed. I kept attending the sessions, because although the social worker told me I would not receive any funds, I was trying to appeal that, and the classes were mandatory if I wanted aid.

The final decision on my case was that I would not receive aid. I stopped attending classes and waited for my eviction notice. It was a grim time. I had no place to go and no one to turn to. I was alone. 5 days before my housing court hearing regarding my eviction, I received a call from a headhunter who wanted to set up an interview for me the next day. I pressed my best suit and put on a happy face - telling myself I was valuable and an asset, reviewing all of my experience in my head and remembering the winning attitude I once had.

A few days later, I found out I got the job.

Tomorrow, Miscellaneous Wrong-Doing. . .