Ca$h Flow $low Dooooown

That day finally arrived.  The day that my cash flow slowed from a flow to a sluggish crawl, the day where my Spanish skills were still not sufficient enough to attain gainful employment, the day where I hear more about layoffs than hiring’s and gas and food prices continue on a steady incline.   But, was I worried?  Not really.  What’s the point?  Worrying doesn’t create a job.  Worrying doesn’t put money in your wallet.  Worrying blocks your vision and weighs down your soul.  So, I just did what I could.  I searched for jobs and applied for those I felt I qualified for.

Then, one day, my neighbor came over and proposed an idea:  “Why don’t we make an appointment to see if you’re eligible for coupones?  Initially, it didn’t register.  Like, what she was saying really didn’t hit me…but then it did.  Coupones?  Like public assistance?!  Like welfare?!  I stared at her calm yet serious face, then I shot a look over to Mama…her face was calm and serious too.  Have these two women been discussing my lack of a job?  Why are they trying to find ways to get me aid?  I thought I’ve been doing my part here.  What do they think of me?!  “Let’s just see if you’re eligible.  There’s no harm in that.” my neighbor said as she interrupted my ranting thoughts.  I quickly agreed as to end this strange conversation as quickly as it started.  

Next thing I knew I was sitting in a tiny reception room/office answering questions regarding my level of education, my student/work status (or lack thereof) and why I believe I need assistance.  Thankfully, I was treated with respect and the receptionist was truly a sweetheart.  Afterwards, my neighbor and I headed to the Medicare office…looking to secure an appointment to discuss my options there as well.  But, it was lunchtime and the office was completely shut down for the next hour and a half.  So, I headed home and unfortunately, allowed my mind to wander, which subsequently led to an open invitation for that beast named “Worry” to waltz right on in.  So, as I sat in my grandma’s recliner staring at a book, pretending to read, Mama looked up from her crossword puzzle long enough to recognize a problem.  (Note: All of our interactions are in Spanish...I translate for your reading pleasure)

Mama: “What’s wrong?  Are you missing your man?”

I looked at her and chuckled at the fact that she always associates any spec of discontent immediately to a man.

Me: “No, no man problems.”

Mama: “Well, then, what’s wrong?  You don’t feel good?”

Me: “No, I’m ok.  It’s just…Mama I don’t want anyone thinking I’m lazy."

My throat is so full of tears that by the time I got that first sentence out two tears had already rolled down my cheek.

Me: “I don’t want anyone thinking I don’t want to work or I’m good for nothing or that I’m trying to take advantage of you or the system.”

And of course by "anyone" I mean Mama.  I don’t want Mama thinking those things about me.  I just didn’t have the nerve to say that to her.  So, I used “anyone” instead.

Me: “I’ve been working since I was a teenager.  I've always been independent and have prided myself on being responsible and self-sufficient and now…well this is just hard.”

Mama:  (In a very loud voice) “Who thinks your lazy!?  Who would say that?  You’re looking into getting aid and seeing if you’re even eligible.  You aren’t doing anything wrong so don’t bring that over here.  I don’t want to hear it.  No one thinks that!  You know that as long as you are here and as long as you need help, I am here and I am able to help.  Don’t even worry yourself with that crap.  We are blessed to know that we can eat today and tomorrow without an issue.  So, whether you are eligible for assistance or not, we will be fine.  Don’t come talking that stuff to me.  Anyone who would say that to you is stupid and shouldn’t even be important to you.”

I tell ya, Mama sure knows how to give a tough love pep talk when she needs to.  I walked out of her house with my head held high and my back straight…and it’s a good thing I did because the Medicare receptionist…woo boy.  Let’s just say she was the direct opposite of the previous receptionist.  From the moment I explained my situation to her, she must have looked me up and down about a dozen times.  She must have asked me  “And you’re not studying NOR working?” about a dozen and one times (so much that my neighbor, who was serving as my emergency translator, felt the need to explain that I am an educated woman with a Bachelor’s degree).  Her judgment was clear and had Mama and I not had that conversation before I headed to that office, I might have flipped out on that woman (either that or broke down right before her eyes).  Either way, I needed to build up my armor of confidence, faith and self worth.  I needed to remind myself it’s not about “them” or what “they think”.  It’s about what I need to do for me.  I have a purpose here and whether Ms. Medicare Receptionist Lady gets it or not is not important.  I get it, end of story.

Now, this whole process happened about a month ago.  I was on the fence about writing about it because, once again, I thought:  What will my readers say/think about me?  Will I embarrass myself by revealing that I receive food stamps?  Will I disappoint people?  Will they look at me as weak or lazy?  Will I embarrass my family?  Should I even tell my family?

Then, that sis-cuz conversation happened and in it I realized how many masks we all put on daily.  These masks provide a sort of camouflage, a refuge so that we can securely blend.  We use them to defend against what “others” might say or think about us.  It’s almost as if we’re preparing for the day that all of our secrets are revealed.  The day we shame ourselves to no end, when who we really are is unveiled, because we’ve convinced ourselves that who we are just isn’t good enough.   What we often discover way too late in life is that we are ALL behind a mask and if we can just find enough courage to set ours down first, we reveal a light, a beauty soaked in honesty, prepared for healing, and eventual guiltlessness. 

So, here I am, throwing another mask to the wind: I applied for food stamps because I was eligible.  I receive a small amount of money on an EBT card monthly to purchase groceries.  I have it because it’s helping to minimize the stress of being co-dependent while I hit the streets looking for my next source of income.  I am not a loser.  This card doesn’t define my worth nor my work ethic.  I went from $50k a year to $112 a month on an EBT card and I could not be happier.  I am not a user.  I am not “just another lazy Puerto Rican beating the system and looking for a free ride on your hard earned tax dollars.”  I am swallowing my pride and submitting to these ordered steps, getting a new prospective on things I previously never had to think twice about.

I am delighted to announce that in a few short weeks I will begin my new job as a part time English teacher at a language school for working professionals.  Once I receive my first paycheck, I will report my earnings to my caseworker so that she can re-evaluate my need.  When I am no longer eligible I will be sure to express my gratitude to the system via a hand-written letter, contributing a positive narrative to the welfare recipient story. 

So many people are struggling, not bothering to look for help because of foolish pride or inherent stigmas.  Be it food stamps or Medicare, depression or loneliness, struggles with addiction or sexuality, self worth or religion…the list goes on…but no matter what the mask, the first step to freedom is unveiling your truth.  What you come to discover is that truth is NEVER only yours.