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Sep 16, 2008

Meet A Statistic

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Back in April, I wrote an open letter to the presidential candidates, laying out the issues that were important to me and why. I reminded them of how the middle class seems to be slipping away, and how I worried that my family could face ever harder times if things continued as they were. I wrote:

Despite all of that, I have it pretty good compared to many in this country. We still have food, we still have some luxuries, and we still have our house. As long as my husband isn’t laid off – a real risk we’ve faced three times in the past year – our bills are still paid each month and the needs of our family are met. But there are so many who can’t even provide the most basic needs for their families. Food banks are running out of food because of the growing number of people – even middle-class – who must now turn to them for help. Should my husband be laid off, I could be one of those people, too, depending on charity and the kindness of others to feed our family.

Oh, hi – look at us now. I should go into business as a psychic.

It’s been three months now since Aaron lost his job. In that time, unemployment rates have continued to climb, as have consumer prices on nearly everything. Things in Ohio aren’t so hot, either. The governor just announced another 4.5% must be slashed from the state budget in all departments by the end of this month. You can bet many departments will take care of that with more layoffs, further increasing the competition for jobs.

We never expected to still be without full time employment in September, but here we are. We still have our house, we still have food, and we still have one or two luxuries (like internet, which we actually need for freelance work), but not much else. It feels like we’re stuck in some twisted nightmare. We’re college educated, and we have a lot of work experience – why can’t we find a job?

More resumes have been sent out than we can count, and his suit has been cleaned and pressed for a handful of interviews. The job market is so tight at the moment that employers can be very picky. Often he isn’t considered because even though he has years of experience in his field, his degree in Theatre doesn’t match up with layout and graphic design. Or they question why he’s applying for a job that makes less than he did previously. He’s even tried for a job that only requires lifting things (UPS), but in that case he’s dismissed as overqualified. After all, why would someone who was making so much before this want a dull job making just over minimum wage?

I don’t want this to sound all “poor us”. We will eventually find something. I’m sure of it. In the meantime, resumes keep flying out the door and we’re both working hard on our freelance jobs. But this lack of a full-time job has put us in a rough spot at the moment, and forced us to look at options we would have never considered before.

After three months, our savings are nearly gone, despite being conservative in our spending. The mortgage is due in October, and I’m still not entirely sure how we’re going to cover it. I think we’ll be able to scrape it together, but November will be coming all too quickly. We’ve already had to weigh the costs of taking our child to the doctor versus waiting it out – we did go and it cleared up, but it’s possible we waited too long and Cordy may have a scar on her face from it.

So last month we swallowed our pride and applied for assistance. Cordy and Mira now have health insurance, thanks to SCHIP. (You know, that children’s health insurance program that Congress tried to expand and Bush vetoed.) And after having battle after battle with myself, we now are on food assistance as well.

How do I feel about it? I hate depending on assistance, mostly because I feel there are others who need it more. We’re doing it to buy us more time and protect our daughters’ health. I’ll admit that the food assistance saves us a lot of money, even if I am angry that it had to come to this. And considering that we’re currently making about $1200 a month from our freelance income and unemployment combined, and our mortgage alone is $1100, saving some money on food helps.

I’m reminded by family and friends that it’s OK to ask for help now and then. After all, three generations of my family have paid into the government’s assistance programs without ever needing it, so using a little of that help now shouldn’t bring on waves of guilt. But I still feel so…judged…when I’m buying groceries and the cashier looks at me when I swipe my card and says loudly, “Oh, you’re using food stamps.” It’s an uncomfortable feeling to look at government assistance from the inside, knowing the prejudices you may have held when you were on the outside.

There was a time when I might have judged someone if I saw them buying groceries with food stamps, but now I know that nearly anyone could find themselves in those circumstances if the planets aligned the wrong way. And I’ve heard healthcare workers speaking poorly of a patient at the hospital because they’re on Medicaid, something I could never do. Yes, there are people who abuse the system, but who are we to determine if someone really needs the help or not just by looking at them?

It’s hard to admit, but we are now a statistic. A middle class family now with no full-time employment, on assistance, with the risk that we could lose our house if something doesn’t change in the next few months. Our story is one which so many others in this country could tell – we’re not unique in any way. It’s why this election has become so important to me, why I’m nearly ready to go door to door to campaign for people to vote, and why I feel we all need to look beyond the hype and the superfical issues of this year’s campaign and investigate the issues fully.

Because you never know when you could be the next statistic.

Filed Under: big issues, politics, the J-O-B ·


Aug 26, 2008

(Some) Government Agencies Suck

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We’re *this* close to having insurance for Cordy and Mira. Since Aaron lost his job, we knew it was a possibility we’d run out of insurance before he could find a new one. At first, we hoped that something would appear before the end of July – how naive we were. That whole plan to bring jobs to Ohio isn’t exactly working as quickly as we’d like.

At the end of July, we realized there was no immediate job offer coming, so we applied for state assistance for health insurance for the kids. The SCHIP program has helped so many people, and while I’ve always been a supporter, I never imagined we’d have to take advantage of it. With only our freelance income, we easily qualify for it. The paperwork was submitted, all documentation was submitted and approved, and everything should be in place for my two young daughters to have health insurance to protect them if anything would happen.

I said should be in place, because as of yet it isn’t. We still have one obstacle in our way:

Our case worker.

Now, I have never bought into the stereotype of the lazy government worker. Especially since my husband was just recently a government worker, and would have been fired quickly for poor customer service in his agency. I had the belief that people who worked in government jobs did so because of their desire to help others and make a difference.

Yeah, I know. You can really stop laughing now.

Our case worker has so far been slow and unable to keep his word. Everything was submitted and in order as of the beginning of August for their health insurance. There was some question as to if we might qualify for additional help, so he said he would be in touch with us either the next Monday, or if not then, the Monday morning after that for sure. (He was going on vacation after the first Monday.)

We waited but there was no call the first Monday. We knew it was a possibility, so we crossed our fingers and hoped no one got sick that week. The second Monday morning, there was no call. By late afternoon, Aaron called the agency, and was told they would give him the message that he called, and his case worker would respond within 24 hours.

Somehow I expected a call within 24 hours. But there was no call on Tuesday. On Wednesday afternoon, nearly 2 days after Aaron called, the case worker called back, telling us he didn’t have a chance to do anything yet, but would have everything finalized by the next day. We were told he would call us back “tomorrow before 1pm.” (Thursday)

You can probably guess what happened next. There was no call on Thursday. Or Friday.

So yesterday Aaron called again first thing in the morning, and was again informed that his case worker would be back in touch within 24 hours. No call. He called again today, got the same message.

At this point, it’s been nearly a month since our children were approved for health insurance, but so far no confirmation has been made to get them enrolled.

I’m only glad this guy is dealing with Aaron and not me. I consider myself a patient person, but not where my children’s health is concerned. I’m feeling very mama bear right now, and I would likely have some choice words for him about doing what you say you will do and how damn hard is it to make a 5 minute phone call, asshole? This is about health coverage for kids!

When I worked as a student advisor, there were days when I was busy and had several phone messages waiting for me. If I wasn’t in the office the next day (I worked part-time) I’d stay the extra 5-10 minutes it took to make sure I got back to everyone, even if it was just to acknowledge their call and let them know I was looking into their question and when to expect a response.

I’d be more OK with this situation if there was a hold-up somewhere and he could take the time to let us know what the delay is. Instead, we’re left calling daily with no return call or information about when or if our girls will have health insurance. How can an agency that is dedicated to helping families in a time of need be so far off it’s goal? It seems that when it comes to Family Services in Ohio, customer service is dead.

The one upside to share with you is that Aaron had an interview last week that went very well. He was called back the next day (see? some places can call back!) and has a second interview tomorrow. If this goes well, he might be employed as early as mid-September, and insurance would be back in October. And then hopefully I can put this not-quite-nightmare, more-like-a-bad-dream of a summer behind me.

Filed Under: Aaron, big issues, clearly insane, rant · Tagged:


Aug 18, 2008

There Are No Rainbows and Unicorns Here

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I should have known the monster was lurking in the shadows.

Lately I’ve felt out-of-sorts. It started innocently enough – I could blame my uneasy moods and little dark cloud over my head on our employment situation. (Still no jobs yet, by the way.) I might have felt the cold breath of it on the back of my neck at BlogHer.

But over the past week I’ve started running little self-checks in my head, and I didn’t like the results. I’m having trouble keeping up with everything. I’m short-tempered with the girls. I’m occasionally finding a nearly empty box of Cheez-its in my hand with no idea where they all went. Cleaning up the house seems so pointless.

I don’t even want to get out of bed in the morning. I’m lazy at getting back to e-mails, comments, and even phone calls.

Trying to write a blog post is an actual chore. When I do write anything down, I hate every word I write, unable to find the right words, put them in the right combination, or find the right hook to really capture attention. When I read my own posts, I feel like a broken record. I’m still reading blogs, but I feel like I have so little to contribute that I’m rarely commenting. I feel empty inside.

It really hit me when I was on a conference call about depression with Dr. Myrna Weissman and Families for Depression Awareness. I listened, asked questions, and as the call continued, I started to realize it: I’ve lost interest in activities I enjoy. I fit all of the symptoms.

I’m depressed.

Again.

It was so sneaky this time. Taking advantage of the bad times, and piggybacking on a few negative feelings, growing and feeding them until they were big, bad Negative Feelings.

I’ve also tried to deny it for some time now. After all, I don’t have time to be depressed. I can’t put my life on hold to deal with this. We don’t even have insurance right now. I need to be in overdrive right now for my family – depression does not figure in this plan.

But the monster is out of the closet, and it has completely overtaken me. The last time I was depressed was when I was pregnant with Cordy. It took me by surprise then, too. After all, I was pregnant, it was a planned pregnancy, and it was what I really wanted – shouldn’t I be over-the-moon happy? I was put on antidepressants while pregnant and continued them through Cordy’s first year to prevent postpartum depression.

I was expecting to be depressed again when pregnant with Mira, but I wasn’t. Once she was born, I had some normal postpartum sadness, but it quickly faded and there was no sign of depression. Now over a year later, it seems to have caught up with me, like an unwanted visitor you hope won’t show up for the party.

I hate this. I don’t want to be depressed. I don’t know what to do about it right now, either. As soon as a job with insurance materializes I can get myself to the pharmacy for antidepressants again, I guess. In the meantime, I need to keep pushing through each day, getting all of my work done with minimal lateness and making efforts to be social.

So I guess what I’m saying is I hope you’ll please bear with me as I work through this. I’m sorry I’m sucking at being a good blog friend right now. I’ve spent 10 minutes trying to find an end for this post, something that puts an upbeat end to it, but I’m at a loss this time.

I want to feel like me again soon, instead of this hollow shell of me.

Filed Under: big issues, me me me ·


Aug 1, 2008

Haiku Friday: Can You Help A Fellow Blogger, Sister?

By ·
Have you heard the news?
Bad stuff is happening to
bloggers everywhere.

Some are losing jobs
Others losing health or life –
Bad times all around

As for me, today
for the first time ever I
have no insurance

Jobs are still scarce here
Aaron applies daily but
The phone is silent

Want to help others?
Join Kristen in August to
Blog the Recession

It’s very simple:
Click through to read your blogs on
the actual URL

Such a simple act
Can boost ad revenue for
your favorite bloggers

It’s a brilliant idea. Since it seems like hard times are falling over many right now, why not commit to help each other out? We may all be short on money, but it doesn’t take much to click the post title in your feed reader and read it on the actual blog.

I’ve already been doing a version of this for some time. If there is a post that I particularly like, I will find an interesting ad (like a Google Ad) for that blogger and click on it to earn them a little more money. I’m willing to look at interesting ad to help a fellow blogger out. Along with a comment, it’s my way of saying thanks – like leaving a tip in a tip jar, only you don’t have to give any money, just a little time. You can grab a button and join in over at Motherhood Uncensored.

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below or at Jennifer’s blog with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). DON’T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, contact Jennifer or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! We will delete any links without haiku!

Filed Under: big issues, daily life, Haiku Fridays, the J-O-B ·


Jul 1, 2008

Sunscreen is the New Black

By ·

It’s obvious to anyone who sees me that I burn easily in the sun. Being fair-skinned, I’ve never been able to achieve those deep tans that others sport.

I’ve always known about sunscreen. As a kid, my mom would put a bottle of it in my backpack every time she dropped me off at the community pool, nagging me to use it. I, being the cocky, indestructible eight year old that I was, would tell her OK as she drove away, then ditch my backpack with my towel under a picnic table as I ran to join up with friends in the deep end of the pool. The sunscreen remained in my bag the entire day.

As you can imagine, I’d come home bright red nearly every day. Sometimes with blisters. As soon as the burn healed and the dead skin peeled away, I was right back out in the sun to burn anew. Burns hurt, yeah, but I was a kid and didn’t want anything to get in the way of play, and that included the time it took to put on sunscreen. Besides, I didn’t like how greasy it felt.

When I was a teenager, I didn’t want to burn but I sure wanted that tan. Tanned bodies filled the high school, and being ghost white made me stand out. (Well, stand out more than I already did.) I always had bad luck with tanning, though, resulting in either a burn or a pathetic light tan. When I had a part-time job at 16, I used some of the money to tan in a tanning booth. I still burned though. Let me put it this way: I burned so much as a kid that my nose is permanently red.

I look back on all of this skin damage, and wish I could go back to my old self and do some kind of scared straight intervention. It would probably involve vivid descriptions of what it’s like to have spots and moles removed (I was terrified of needles as a kid) and the phone conversation I had with my dermatologist’s office yesterday:

“Hi, I’m calling with the results on the skin biopsies we did. OK, the one on the right middle back was benign.”

In the one and a half seconds between that sentence and the next, I pondered her words. Why did she start individually? Is she required to go through each one, instead of telling me they’re all OK? Or maybe one of them came back with something wrong. OK, I guess I should be prepared for one to come back abnormal.

And then she continued, “The other five all came back abnormal. We call it neoplastic…” At this point my focus drifted off of her actual words as I remained on the words abnormal and neoplastic. We studied this in nursing school. It means pre-cancer cells. Five of six removed were abnormal. Five out of six. I wasn’t prepared to hear that. Sure, pre-cancer cells aren’t cancer, but they could be if I’m not cautious.

She continued on, unable to hear my chaotic inner monologue, “They’re pre-cancer cells, which means if they had been left alone they were more likely to turn into skin cancer. There are three levels of abnormal cells: mild, moderate, severe. So far, all of those came back mild, but the doctor now wants to see you every four months for rechecks and to remove any more that show any signs of change.”

I finally stumbled out, “Should I do anything?”

“Well, you’re at a much higher risk for skin cancer now, so if you’re not already doing it, protect your skin. Preventing further skin damage will help, although the past damage still keeps you at risk.”

At least those five abnormal spots were removed. But at the same time, I remember at my appointment that the doctor had mapped out several more to keep an eye on. He probably could have removed another six, but I’m guessing he didn’t feel like making me look like swiss cheese or want me to care for that many wounds at once. Now I look at all of these moles on my arms, legs, back, chest, and face, wondering when one of them might turn against me. Which one is harboring pre-cancer cells, just waiting for their chance to attack me?

I’ve embraced pale white as a lifestyle and fashion choice since my college years, and this recent news is reinforcing my resolve. I will wear protective clothing or sunscreen when out in the sun. I often forget to apply sunscreen when I’m out for short periods, which is something I need to be more consistent with, since that can cause damage, too.

And I’m going to make sure both girls put on sunscreen when they’re outdoors, especially Cordy, who inherited my pale skin. Mira has her dad’s olive-tan skin tone, but that doesn’t fully protect her, either. If they won’t wear it, maybe when they’re older I’ll take them with me for a mole removal, or just show them all of my small scars. They already complain like I did as a kid, but someday I hope they’ll understand that I’m only trying to keep them from going through the fear and worries I’ve gone through, and will likely go through again.

So if you ever need sunscreen, let me know. I’ll always have some with me!

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Filed Under: big issues, me me me, memories ·