trapped

I feel… trapped. Imprisoned. My chains? No, not the children. Not even the husband. Religion? Nope. Gender? Not in the west in 2011. So, why? How can I feel trapped? I have a roof over my head, food in my ample belly. Opportunities that women in other countries can only dream of. How can I feel trapped?

I think to myself that I am limited by my bank account, that I want to get on a boat or a train and see the world, I want my only limits to what I can do, to what my family can do, to be our imaginations. I think I want to grab life by the horns and live it to the absolute fullest and if only I had a few million in the bank, I could.

Other days I don’t want that at all, I want nothing more than a big house in the country, surrounded by fields and to spend my days pottering around my large kitchen, or lounging in my library, reading or writing. Having huge holiday celebrations and family reunions and just…living a good, content, full life.

Alas, both options require money. I am not sure why my life in its current state cannot content me. My children are healthy, intelligent, beautiful. My husband is caring and loyal. Even on the days when the cupboard and the fridge is full, there is plenty of money in the bank account, the bills are paid and my hair is clean and shiny, I still feel…unfulfilled. As if something is missing and I can’t work out what it is. A sense of purpose? Perhaps. Security? Independence? Perhaps.

I feel as if I am living constantly in the house of cards my teenage son constructed this summer, stuck at home with a broken leg and a pack of cards I had just handed him. He had never built one before and even the slightest hint of a breath would send it tumbling to the floor. I can’t get that feeling out of my head. Every day I become more certain that I never will. No matter how successful I might ever become, or how much money amasses in my bank account, no matter what great things my children persue in their lives, I fear that I will never escape that feeling of everything tumbling down around me at the slightest hint of a breath. That no matter how many pills I take or counseling I have, I will never feel happy with myself or my life.

I wonder why this is? Is it because I was unhappy as a child? Bullied incessantly at school and disliked at home? Have I become conditioned to feel this way? Certain that any feeling of happiness or pleasure is a sign of a great wind bearing down on my house of cards. Is it because there is some fundamental glitch in my programming?

I don’t know the answers to these questions, only that as I get older (Hello, 30! See you soon!) they become more pressing, more relevant. I wonder if it is perhaps a part of growing up, and that perhaps I will grow out of it, as indeed I grew out of my “I know everything, nobody can tell me what to do, it’s MY life so fuck off” teenage years.

On the bad days, the ones where for whatever reason I have found myself lying in bed at 11am, sobbing uncontrollably, the black hole in my chest absorbing light and life and threatening to consume every ounce of me, I find myself wanting nothing more then to go home.

“I want to go home.” I sob in to my husband’s chest hair, helpless and small and wishing I could melt into him, not understanding why I’m saying it, why my heart is feeling it. There is nothing left for me there. I think if I were to die suddenly I would not want to be returned there, to travel 6000 miles in a box and be buried so far from the people that love me the most, so why do I long to be back there in my darkest days? Perhaps what is calling to me is the desert which I love so much, the free and open spaces where I could never feel trapped or confined, where I could climb a mountain and watch the sunrise over the peaks and cactus. Even standing on the shores of Great Britain, gazing into the Atlantic Ocean, where there is nothing but sea and sky before me, I feel trapped. An island full of unfamiliar people behind me, a vast inhospitable sea before me.

I wonder if I will ever leave this country again, if I will ever leave behind the feeling of being imprisoned and lost within myself.

Burn Out

A few months ago something started to happen that I wasn’t expecting. I stopped caring about my psychology degree. It was like I had been racing along my degree track, working at furious pace to get my degree next year, really enjoying my two current courses and suddenly ran headlong into a brick wall. I just didn’t care anymore at all. I’d sit and stare at the computer for hours, meaning to write an essay, or do some research and I’d open up a document or log into the search facility only to realize suddenly that at some point I’d switched to facebook and had been staring at that for 20 minutes. I stopped going to the library cold, it’s been two months at least since I’ve been, and I used to go five days a week and spend three hours there studying. I’ve had extensions for my last four assignments and only completed them by staying up and working through the night before and the entire day they were due.

My son had broken his leg and there was the eviction and money worries and of course all the other stuff going on in a family of five and I was finding this feeling of not caring was becoming usual. Poor attitudes or behaviour from my children which I would never normally put up with, I’d shrug my shoulders at. I couldn’t muster up any interest in anything, my kitchen whiteboard had the same information on it for three weeks at one point. And then I started crying. I’d be completely unmoved by anything for days, and then I’d wake up morning feeling like the whole world was crashing down on me and I just wanted to go home and crawl into my own bed 6000 miles away and sob and sob. (Which is funny because my mom sold that bed, which I loved, ages ago) I’d be walking through the grocery store, robotically picking up every piece of junk food there, not even realizing it and occasionally turning to my husband and standing in the middle of the aisle crying as he held me.

I could see that something was wrong, really very wrong so I finally went to my doctor who, obviously, diagnosed me with depression and gave me the British or generic or whatever version of Prozac and told me to take a 2 month extension on all my course work and come back in two weeks. I promised I would. But, you can’t take two month extensions on OU course work, that would put me two months behind on my next two assignments as well, not to mention putting me smack dab in the middle exam revision time. I was afraid that telling the OU would be disastrous- would they insist I drop my courses? Take a sabbatical? Would it delay getting my degree? So, I kept quite. And I didn’t go back to my doctor, because she would ask about the extensions and what would I say?

I took the pills, and after the third week stopped taking them, I don’t know why, it started with just forgetting and I kept on forgetting. Now I feel like I’m back where I was a month ago. Staring at the computer, knowing I have a huge project due, but not able to do anything. Not caring. Knowing I have another assignment due for my other course, but I haven’t even cracked the new books on that one yet. The whiteboard in my kitchen has the same stuff on it that it did last week. I wander through the grocery store, blindly picking up crap, only to be humiliated when I get to the checkout and discover I have tarts, cakes, cookies, makings for chocolate cream pie, and ice cream piled up on the belt.

I’m not sure what this is, perhaps the equivalent of the runners wall. I know I was better after I’d been on the pills for a couple of weeks, so they must have been helping, and I know I need to get back to the doctor and sort it out. But, I’m worried. Am I sabotaging my degree? How will I break through this? Why is it happening? Is it just a temporary wall? Am I truly burned out? Is it just biological- depression, fucked up neurotransmitters in my brain?

I feel awful, and I tear myself down. I’m lazy, not dedicated, irresponsible, not cut out for it. Then I cry, then I just stay away from it. Avoid the computer, the books completely. Then it all starts again. I wish I knew who to talk to about it, I wish I knew someone who had been through a similar time and could hold my hand through it. I feel like I’m throwing my degree away and I can’t stop myself.

Greed and Anger and the cruelty of eviction.

2010 was a hard year for me. 2011 was a chance for things to be better, a fresh start in a new year. Unfortunately, 2011 was doomed from the start. My husband lost his job early on, I was already not working due to valid personal reasons. We missed a months rent, but within two weeks it was sorted and paid in full. Within that time, and after I’d already explained and made a significant partial payment, my landlord had been at the door screaming about eviction in front of my kids. Please keep in mind that by that point we had lived here two years and had never missed a single rent payment. The next month, it was clear we would not be able to pay in full, we prepared for eviction, but our housing benefit came through and while it wouldn’t pay the full amount each month,it would pay most of it, the shortfall being less than £200. The one month back rent was paid, with even the difference paid by us. Technically we were not behind anymore. Yet, our landlord came to us, verbally abused us, called me stupid, and threw an eviction notice in my face and screamed at us about the “condition of the house” (normal ware and tear to the carpets and the crappy to begin with kitchen cupboards, which I have complained about three times). The benefits coming in do not cover even our normal expenses, and we certainly can’t pay the excess rent each month, so I understand his right to evict us.

What infuriates me is his complete unwillingness to work with us for even a few months while I find a job and D gets some training to qualify him for something new. His unwillingness to admit that we are not the months behind with our rent that he has claimed we are to the council and that we can prove it. His abusive and horrible attitude, his coldheartedness. We have three young children, we have lived here without incident for over two years, we are trying to get back on our feet. He is getting his money, every month. Yet, almost every week he turns up and insults and treats us like trash, demands to know when he will get his money (I only assume he means the difference between monthly rent and our benefit) and when we will get out of the house. Threatens to have his guys force the door and get in (to do what? I’m terrified to ask). I point out that any excess rent due once we have vacated he may take out of our £1250 deposit. He has more or less admitted he did not, as the law demands, protect out deposit when we moved in.

We do not have £2000 sitting around for a new deposit so we’ve had to go begging to the council for emergency housing. They insist we stay here until after the date on our notice, until a court order has been gotten by the landlord and bailiffs are standing on our doorstep, only then will the council step in and get us into a new place.

It is hard to write this, to make it public knowledge. I feel ashamed. Like we are awful people who refuse to pay our rent. We aren’t, we’ve paid our rent on time in this house for over two years, and continue to do so. We paid our rent on time in every house we’ve lived in over the last six years. We’ve worked so hard for the last six years to cope with exorbitant rent, utility, transportation food and clothing costs. We buy the cheapest food, the cheapest clothing. I am studying for a degree, taking as many courses as my university will allow each year to finish as soon as possible. (I should point out that it is only this year I have qualified for financial aid, I have paid for all my courses since 2008 out of pocket) My husband is taking courses, 4 different ones, all in different areas, trying to gain qualifications to get a new job.

So, even though I am ashamed, I am also angry. What’s so wrong with taking a slightly smaller amount of rent for six months, or even a year? What’s so wrong with trying to work with good tenants who are struggling but trying to get back on their feet? What gives a landlord the right to be abusive and cruel? Is it greed? Our landlords actions the last few months have shocked us. Previously we would have said he was a good landlord, if not a bit annoying in his tendency to ignore minor (to him) problems. He has shown his true colours with this, lying to the council about our rent payments and the amount of our rent, lying to us, even accusing us of doing damage to the property which he knows is specified in the inspection as pre-existing to our tenancy. To demand we pay money we categorically do not owe, especially when we paid a large deposit which should cover all rent owing on our departure. What gave him the right to spend that money instead of protecting it as he is required to by law?

I feel broken down by this. I am afraid, first and foremost that the council will not come through for us and we will end up living in our car, if it’s not repossessed first! (Though I am being reassured this will not happen) I am afraid the landlord will force his way in and have our things removed before our notice is up, while we sit and wait for the council to help us. He comes here and only wants to deal with my husband, who is soft spoken and will agree to things he shouldn’t just so the landlord won’t scream and swear at him. I have to be the strong one and I don’t feel strong. I have to stand up and say no to this man who is bigger than me and nasty and cruel to me. I have to tell him to go, and point out that he is lying and that he has not done what he is required to by law. I have to instruct my oldest son that he is not to open the door to the landlord if we are not in.

We asked my inlaws if we could move in with them just while we tried to get back on our feet and they refused. Which is their right of course, but when they have three extra bedrooms and we have offered to pay rent and a share of the utilties and buy and prepare our own food and try to be as little nuisciance as possible, I can’t help but feel aggrieved by this.

I try to hide all of this, I don’t want people to know all our problems, or, worse think badly of us, but my blog is the place where I share my feelings and I can’t keep quite about this anymore. We are being forced out, over a measly £150 a month. Never once did he ask why, or how can I help, or how long do you think it will take to get back on your feet? From day one it was lies and insults and “GET OUT.”

Is that right?

Why I play the lottery

Ok, I admit it. I’m poor. Some months things are very fucking difficult. In fact last month, money that I was expecting to come in, didn’t and I couldn’t pay the rent. Which was ironic because Rafe had an expensive birthday party, as well. This only meant that Rafe’s birthday party was paid for before I realized there was going to be a problem with the rent, but sometimes I worry about how things are seen. I try very hard to balance. My kids and I rarely get new clothes, and even then they are George or Primark. They eat very basic lunches that they bring from home. They don’t get any expensive things during the year. Sometimes a weeks worth of dinner will consist of Potato Soup, Mac n cheese, Omelettes, because I can buy the ingedients cheap.

In exchange, I try very hard to make sure they can have at least one paid for extracurricular. That they can have decent birthdays, including parties for milestone years and even occasionally go out to eat. Some years we even get to go on holiday, and it is hard to justify going on holiday vs. plowing money into our debt. But, we take very cheap holidays within England. My mom visited us in 2009 and we took her to Scotland, we had no money, she covered a lot most of the expenses. One year my husband had a life insurance policy mature, and we used some of that money to go on holiday. Last year when I fought a former employer for unfair dismissal, and received a large settlement, I paid a lot of bills, but also used the last bit of the money to take the kids on holiday to Cornwall.  This year, a holiday is very very unlikely. But, while money can be a huge huge burden in our lives, we have also been very lucky. The things we have been lucky enough to do however, are not really a snapshot into our everyday lives.

But, no matter how tight money is I donate regularly to three charities that I feel do very important work, that is bigger than me and my money problems. I also play the lottery. I play the lottery every month, £4-5 a month. Not much, but it’s enough to keep my sudden millionaire hopes alive, and to also make me feel proud and happy when I see things like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is part of a brand spanking new brilliant park that has just been built in a local woodland area. Where there used to be mud and trees, this park sits. Not more crappy little houses that will cost twice what they’re worth and be unavailable to first time working class buyers. A park. For local kids. This park has a decent climbing wall, huge tubes for climbing through, lots of swinging things, it is great and my kids love it. It must have cost a fortune to build. Did the government fund it? No, of course not, they are to busy trying to fuck the working classes with a 10 foot barge pole while keeping their own kind rich and mighty.

The lottery funded it. I funded it. Me and every other working class sap that pays for a lottery ticket hoping they’ll get those special numbers. In a crappy time, where money is like diamonds, scarce and precious, and we are all worrying about how we are going to pay the rent, and where the money for the next round of school uniforms is going to come from, we can at least say that we funded something of worth. Which is more than those rich white men in Westminster can say.

If you don’t play the lottery, I urge you to consider it. Even if you never win anything, you will know that your money is going to useful projects that will do some good in the community, to the lucky people who win (could be you or me one day!) and to the local retailers who sell the tickets. Which, again, is more than the government can promise for your tax money.

Lottery Funding/Causes

Liv

Olivia

I first profiled my daughter in this way back in 2008. I offer the 2nd in the series here. She is 10 1/2 now, and I was pleasantly surprised at how similar some of her answers were to the ones she gave three years ago. She had no prompting for the new version, I called her upstairs, asked her the questions and then sent her away.

She is 1/3 of the amazing bright star that is the sun in my life.

Favorite:

Color> ” Red “

Food> “Pancakes”

Person>”myself”

Place> “Home”

Book> “Born to Run” Michael Morpurgo

Movie> “Twilight”

Joke> Knock Knock Jokes

Word> “Fragilistic” and “Olivia”

Activity> “running”

Smell> “perfume”

Game> “monopoly”

Thing to wear> “lovely dresses with bows on them”

Place to go> “Cornwall”

Loves> “my family and myself”

Would like to be a: doctor

She found out today that despite doing well on her entrance exam, she would not be offered a bursary to help toward the cost of sending her to private school. The senior/high schools in our area are not great, and she fell in love with the private school. I knew a full bursary would be a long shot, but for her to be offered a place at the school, and then offered nothing to help pay for it, despite the schools ethos of ensuring all capable girls had access, was a very bitter pill to swallow, for both of us.

I won’t give up just yet, but it looks like only a miracle will keep the dream alive at this point. The thought of sending her to one of the local schools makes me cringe, I’ve already had to stomach sending my oldest to one for the last 3 years. I really wanted more for her, she is capable and deserving of so much more.

Cross Country- Her school is 2nd in the league, she is best in the school.

Week 2 £30 a week challenge

So, this week is going to be a bit tougher, as I’ve run out of quite a few things, but I’m sure I can do it. Thankfully I’ll be making use of a pork joint I’ve had in the freezer for a few weeks, it’s big enough to make two meals, and since I bought it last month, it won’t cut into this weeks grocery budget!

Last week I spent £30 on groceries. Though a few pounds of that was on toiletries and cat stuff as well as potatoes for this week- so on actual food for week 1, I came in under budget, by a couple of pounds at least. I had to make a last minute change to my menu, having included roast as a week 1 dinner, even though it is actually meant for Sunday. I found some fresh meatballs and a pan of tear and share garlic bread in the reduced section  last week so picked them up, making a savings of £2.16 from the normal price of those two items. I was pleased about that, and it solved my menu problem, spaghetti and meatballs for dinner!

Only spending £30 on groceries last week freed up a lot of money and enabled me to pay some bills that were making me quite anxious.

My menu this week looks like

Roast pork w/ roasted potatoes and yorkshire puddings.

Minestrone Soup

Macaroni and Cheese  w/ salad (again, yes, but everyone loves it and it is so nice in this cold cold weather we’re having)

Pork curry, using the leftover pork from Sunday dinner.

Tuna noodle casserole

Grilled cheese sandwiches with beans

Quiche w/pasta

Obviously to cut down my spending so drastically, I can’t buy a lot of meat. It is a bit of a challenge thinking up new meals that don’t use meat every week, so for the first month or so I imagine there will some repeating. Also, while frozen pies and such are cheap, they have a ton of calories and salt in them so I’d rather avoid them. The store bought quiche isn’t as bad though, and I can usually get a good deal on them as well as find different flavors to try.

£30 a week challenge

Due to ongoing financial difficulties, that don’t seem to be easing on a permanent basis, it has become necessary to tighten my belt another few notches. The big kids have been told they can only take one extracurricular activity this year, which I still can’t afford.  (My daughter chose to drop ballet and keep girl scouts guides, my son chose to drop streetdance and go back to swimming) On top of this I have slashed my grocery budget by 75%. Meaning, I will be feeding my family of 5 on a budget of £30 a week for the entire year.  Holiday celebrations will be downplayed, eating out will be scrapped and mostly we’ll just sit around the house watching tv reading, doing homework and playing board games as a family all year.

I am always surprised at how easy it is to feed my family on just £30 a week. The problem is sticking with it. Not buying that £1.40 bottle of soda. Or that delicious £2.80 fruit tart. It requires effort, creativity and determination. You can make simple salads and buy canned (and fresh!) fruit easily on a budget that small. You can even have fresh fish, meat and desserts. It’s just a bit tougher than throwing down £100 during two hours at the grocery store, buying full price, “best quality”, food.

So, week one. I made a list of everything in the kitchen, figured out what I could make with it and then created a dinner menu and shopping list.

My menu for the week looks like this:

Cauliflower Cheese with a side  of canned peaches

Macaroni and Cheese with a side  of salad

Potato Soup

Leftover party food for game night

Roast Pork

Toad in a hole with a side of veg

Quiche with pasta

I already had the majority of ingredients in the kitchen, plus breakfast items, most stuff for the kids lunches and basics. So, all I needed from the grocery store was cheese, lettuce, yogurts for kids lunches, fruit and some pasta packets. Total cost: £6.84  Obviously every week won’t be so easy, but it can be done. My only concern is managing it for an entire year.  The savings won’t be apparent at first as overdue bills are paid and other things I’ve been avoiding are dealt with but, with any luck I can start seeing some savings accumulate soon.

 

Stay tuned for weekly updates of my progress as I try to feed my family healthy, filling meals on £30 a week and finally start saving money.

Good news!

I’ve had a debt repayment plan for three years now and as of today- have managed to pay off £1715.17 of.. hmm.. let me see.. um, yep- just under £40,000!!! (About half of which is the husbands)

(That’s $63,000 for you Yanks still in the homeland…)

I mean great- the balances are finally starting to drop (I think the companies have finally stopped adding fees, now. Maybe.) But, WTF? That’s barely anything.

I don’t want to declare bankruptcy, and it’s been a few years now. I think it’s time to start thinking about offering a settlement for these debts. This, of course, requires some sort of access to a decent percentage of £40k, but I think at least it is an option now. Or will be soon, when I have some money.

This debt really had me in a dark place before and right after we started the payment plan. It is truly frightening how quickly it can spiral out of control. Using cash advances from a credit card with a high limit to make the minimum payment for other credits, getting a loan to help pay off the credit cards. At the absolute worst of it, we were buying food and paying bills with credit cards we had paid off with other credit cards. Not great. It happened so quickly, as well. Inside of two years.

I had just moved to England, so I wasn’t working, my husband had a regular steady income and some savings. He also had the high limit credit card, everything looked fine. We didn’t take holidays abroad, or buy flashy things. We just did normal family things.

But, it adds up. I think there was a certain amount of denial as well about how bad it was. And more than once, the bank very helpfully automatically increased our card limit, by thousands.

I hope that within the next few years I (we) will find ourselves free from this debt and able to move on. Having learned a very good lesson, one that I will teach to my kids early, before they find themselves in the same position. I only wish it had been taught to me.