Few things make me realize how fortunate I am as vividly as going grocery shopping. I had DJ with me last Friday. We drove over (though it's only a little over a mile away). DJ is still charmingly fascinated by all the goings on in the supermarket; I may not bring him so often when he isn't dazzled into tranquility.
I frequently imagine trying to make that trip as a single parent after a long day at work, with multiple would-up kids in tow, dangerously close to dinnertime, nervously adding up the cost of my items. Then I imagine doing all that by bus or on foot, which also means making the trip a lot more often. It's exhausting to think about.
I grew up in a rural working class family and spent all my higher-ed years surrounded by people who had money. As an undergrad, I didn't know any other students who worked as many hours as I did, and as a grad student I only knew one other who, like me, was actually living on her grad student stipend. It just became natural to me that I just couldn't do what, seemingly, everyone else did, like party and live in apartments without roommates. And I never expected that to change.
I got my first one-year salaried gig eight years ago, followed by the tenure-track one I have now, and it is still astounding to me how easy I have it; salaried, partnered, housed, insured. The single working-class mom of my imagination obviously adores her kids just as much as I do mine; I'm just perpetually struck by how few genuine stressors I have to face, compared to her, and how easy that makes it to just enjoy my family every day. That's the real privilege of class.
I did a lot to help myself get to this point, and I benefit from having a genuine dislike of shopping (yay!), but plenty of other people have worked just as hard as I have but haven't had the same privileges and lucky breaks. I could just as easily be living a life where I'm bone-tired at the end of every day, making the huge effort to have a couple reasonably pleasant evening hours before packing the kids off to bed and then fretting over how to pay for the brake job I need. Multiple times a day, every day, I'm just awed to be where I am.
Though, I'll probably have to make a special effort to remember this when I'm no longer on sabbatic, working four six-hour days a week from home.
I am right there with you. Constantly thankful for my station in live and painfully aware how easily that can slip away and how stressful the lack of money truly can be.
ReplyDeleteEveryone says "Money doesn't buy happiness" and while that may be true, the lack thereof sure does make life harder.
Well said post!
I had a long chat with my SIL (who studies childhood obesity) about how insanely hard it is to be healthy and poor in this country. And naturally, I've been feeling similarly grateful for the lack of financial stressors. I grew up with them and they are a constant dark cloud. And I haven't been comfortable for so long that I've forgotten what it's like.
ReplyDeleteI too actually lived on my stipend, and it was stressful. I remember once I used an ATM right after someone else and her account was still open (she'd forgotten to finish up) and I actually contemplated checking her balance to see if she could spare a 20, because it was one of those times when I wasn't sure I had enough money in the account to actually make a withdrawal... I'm happy to say ethics prevailed, but only because I wasn't desperate enough... Anyway, right there with you, grateful, in awe, and curious about what it will be like when I'm back to work for reals.