The Exhaustion That Hurts Us All

I have to admit, I’m so… tired. Of striving and not getting to where I need to be. I’m burnt out. I don’t know how else to say it. The one thing on my mind lately is how I can develop a side hustle to pursue my skills and passions while paying the rent too.

My whole adult life, I’ve never been well-connected. I grew up in an AFDC-dependent home. Old-school welfare where my mom had housing assistance, food assistance, utility assistance — all the basics. She never worked. We were crazy poor, but there was never any real WORRY about having a roof above our heads. After welfare reform, it’s no longer like that. Housing programs are years to get into and cash amounts for welfare as well as food stamps are not adjusted to rise with inflation or the cost of living. Even single moms of young kids juggle jobs and family time.

My mom isn’t able to understand my struggle to work enough to pay the bills. She never had my guilt about balancing responsibilities.

Growing up on welfare, I knew I didn’t want to be on assistance as an adult. I saw all the red tape and how you couldn’t strive for more. As a young person, when I began working, my income had to be reported to the welfare office as household income. I couldn’t keep my income because it impacted my mom’s allotments. So after high school, my friends were living at home working and saving money. Many did this well into their 20s. I had to become self sufficient right off the bat.

I wanted to go to the Pratt Institute for Art, my mom didn’t allow it and I didn’t think I could disobey her. Went into a ministry instead that was a cult and had a shortlived marriage and I just never figured out how to slow down and create a real career for myself. Unfortunately, I’m the kind of person who languishes without a truly creative outlet in my work. I worked to survive, battled extreme depression, and battled obesity to the point of losing over 100 pounds twice.

So all these years later, now as a mom without a spouse or partner, I am so tired of starting over. Of thinking I’m getting back on my feet to realize, no. I’m not really there. I’m tired of knowing that I SHOULD build my own career or that I NEED to go with my skills and passion in my work. I haven’t figured out how to make ends meet while still having enough time to raise my child AND invest in my own future. I know myself and my limits. I move in slow motion — I always have. I have never been good at juggling and major multi-tasking. And that doesn’t mean there’s anything WRONG with me. But my brain doesn’t operate in the same ways as most people. I’m not neurotypical, and that impacts everything I do. Along with how people see me.

If I stay up late working, I can’t parent well the next day. I make mistakes both with my child and my job. If I can’t make enough money, I can’t send my daughter to preschool. I can’t pay our medical bills. I can’t get out of debt when I can’t even be certain about covering the basics. Losing work is not an inconvenience — it becomes devastating for a single mom renting an apartment and only having $200 in child support.

Since pregnancy, I have had people tell me how HARD life was going to be and how I would have to work 3 or 4 jobs if I had to and how I would need tough love. I guess in our society, we don’t want to be realistic about a person’s capacity or abilities and needs.

I’ve also been isolated a lot in my life and even more so as a mom. That’s affected me quite deeply. People tell me I’m not as alone as I think I am, but these are people with spouses or partners and relatives or parents who help them — they all help each other. I haven’t met too many folks who legitimately know what I mean about having the weight of the world on your shoulders to raise your child.

I am so grateful for the help I have. Things could always get worse and mostly, they’ve been better than I could have hoped. Yet, I’ve discovered how easy it is to slip through the cracks and have so many unmet needs as a single mom. As a mom on the spectrum. As a mom without much family. As a mom who struggles with her mental and physical health.

A lot of people don’t understand that some of my diseases, like PCOS, endometriosis and lipedema come with a great deal of physical and emotional pain. These aren’t lifestyle diseases. People might be shocked to discover that as obese as I am, I don’t have diabetes. I don’t have high blood pressure or high cholesterol. No arthritis. I’m on one single medication to help regulate my periods. I deal with ruptured cysts, chronic pain and bleeding, and even painful fat. I can’t kneel on the floor, not because I’m too fat to get up, but because the lipedema fat in my legs makes it too painful. I have to be careful because I unintentionally yelp when my 4 year old climbs on my legs. She doesn’t understand that I can’t stand to be poked at all on my shins and calves, or much at all on my thighs.

I think about these things… I think about how much I try to downplay my anxiety about going out in public and being seen. I downplay my anxiety about learning to drive at 35. I wasn’t really taught how to do anything at home, and though I am “smart”, I didn’t do well in school when it was time to juggle my courses and responsibilities. No one realized I was autistic. They thought I was just lazy, making poor choices, or not applying myself. My parents didn’t understand why I didn’t at least turn in my incomplete homework when I spent hours doing it. I didn’t understand either. I just didn’t want to turn in anything that wasn’t perfect.

Now as a parent, I can see so many things I needed help with in childhood. And I want to do better for my own daughter. In fact, I know there’s an incredible amount of good that I could do in this world to help other single parents. Or people with mental illness and chronic disease.

However, I am faced with the question — how do I start helping others when I don’t know if I am going to be able to make ends meet? I know what I need. I need something that many other Americans need: rehabilitation. I need time and resources to take care of my mental and physical health to be ABLE to adequately move forward in a productive way.

If I had parents to move in with, I would do that. I need safety and security to raise my daughter and build a life that will keep us out of poverty. And when I think about these things, I think how terribly sad it is that we all are missing out on such amazing things because our society doesn’t make many dreams accessible to single parents without other family and connections.

Not that it’s limited to single parents. How many incredible organizations to help others would exist if more people had a way to pursue those dreams rather than being caught up in the rat race of merely surviving?

And how many people are unable to get the mental or emotional help they need because they fear losing their children? Trust me, I have had more than one person suggest putting my child into foster care or sending her to live with her father fulltime so I can figure out my financial future. Meaning my daughter’s step mom who doesn’t work should get to raise my daughter even though my daughter is most securely bonded to me? That strangers would do better than me? What is that saying? Am I only a good mother if I can make enough money alone, or if I can marry a man who will support us financially?

Something has to change. The things we value in society need to change. When people can’t bring their best ideas to the table because they need to only make ends meet, it hurts us all. Every person needs a purpose. They need hope to follow their skills and passions. And I am hoping to figure out a way not only to avoid homelessness myself, but to help other struggling folks rise up out of their defeat.