I have often heard people with chronic illness refer to having "good days and bad days". Well, our current situation is somewhat like that, only it's good MINUTES and bad minutes.
I honestly would rather be suddenly displaced than the protracted inevitability we're watching unfold before our eyes. 3 weeks of watching the mail, hoping for an unemployment check. Three weeks of application after application -- at this point I'm willing to be the designated grease trap cleaner at McDonald's. Three weeks of waiting for the phone to ring, of calling back prospective employers, to either hear that the position's filled or they're not hiring right now. It's actually a little over three weeks; Saturday will be a full month, but you get the picture.
The one bright spot is I do have some work with a day labor place, but I have to sit by my phone and hope they have a spot for me. And the phone will be disconnected Friday, so I will have to reactivate our cell phone and hope that my mother's old bill collectors don't eat up the minutes in four days like they did last month (verizon prepay charges you for the call even if you don't answer). Because literally, if they call and you don't answer, they just move down the list. Still, even if it's just 3 hours a day, it's work.
We're pretty much out of hope of getting a cheap vehicle -- not sure exactly what we're going to do when the hammer drops at this point. I can assume that I was rejected for unemployment, although they haven't done me the courtesy of notifying me to that effect (it's been two weeks and counting since my eligibility interview and I have heard nothing). I honestly don't see their reasoning for rejecting us, and frankly, an appeal at this point would be fruitless, as we'll be long displaced by the time they make any determination. We can appeal the TANF ruling, and they are kind enough to give you relief from the work requirement if you're homeless (how considerate!). Fortunately, we're good on the power until the end of the month, and when we are displaced, we'll be able to get back the balance of our deposit.
What's hitting me hardest at this point, though, is the depression. I have worked very hard to support my family, and I feel like a complete and utter failure. My wife and kids are wonderful through it all, but I have always wanted to provide more than this. I am still in utter shock that "safety nets" that are supposed to be there for us have so completely and utterly failed us.
signing off,
Gideon MacLeish