I have 3 credit cards. When you work freelance, you learn that they're much safer than cash because you never know when your next paycheque is coming.
Unfortunately the recession stopped the flow of money, and when I tried to use a card last week, I discovered that I've reached my limit. With all 3 cards.
It's not that I've been spending much. Most of my debt is from the year post-recession when I tried courses and coaching in hopes of reviving my career. And from the year post-separation when I refused to ask for money.
The disability support the government gives me is saving me from spending thousands each month on medication, but once my rent is paid, I can barely pay the minimum on each card.
I'm afraid.
Poverty does wonders for depression, of course. I'm supposed to be getting out, planning things with other people. But the cost of a movie, or even an ice cream cone is too high.
My family takes pity on me--taking me out for a meal and picking up the tab. And I love them for it. But once again, I've become the charity case.
I make lists in my head of what I might possibly have left to sell; wondering who'd give me a fair price for what I have; regretting all I had to leave behind last year as I down-sized for each move.
The surest way not to spend money is to not leave the house.
And so I sit here, paralyzed with fear. Because when I'm afraid, I don't jump into action--I freeze.
Sleep makes the time go by.
