My parents’ Christmas cheque arrived – they gave me a thousand bucks. Between that and the two big paycheques I received today and figuring out that one of the schools I work for fucked up and didn’t pay me for $250 worth of shifts (I straightened it out and they’re sending it to me on the next payday) I am awash with relief. I think I may actually have a small nest egg now for the first time in a year or two. If I keep on working my ass off maybe I can get through next summer without going back on welfare, after all.
I made a point of incorporating the phrase “this will buy me one month of rent and anti-anxiety meds” into my thank-you email to my parents. I suspect they have no idea how high my expenses actually are and that’s why my dad is baffled by my need for help and told me that I should really think about putting money away for my slow seasons (FACEPALM). Their house (which they bought around 1985 in a town with a much lower cost of living than where I am now) cost something like $300,000. I’ve paid over a third of that in rent to my landlords since moving into this apartment eleven years ago. And I really believe they have no idea how hard it is to tread water here and think I’m just lazy or something.
So now they know that a) I have mental issues I’m being medicated for – issues that presumably made working (and everything else ever…) difficult. And b) my rent is fucking stupid-high.
My parents essentially bought me a whole month free from worry* – a month in which I am housed and can continue to be mentally healthy. They probably thought they were buying me more than that. But this is huge, and I am grateful.
*A month I won’t have to use yet, since I’ve been working so much these past few months that my December expenses are covered. But it’ll be there, waiting in my bank account for when I need it.