The anxiety of the working poor.

Anxiety is something I understand very intimately, it has been a major issue for me throughout my life. I don't mean just the little bit of social anxiety that most people feel, but an overwhelming sort of anxiety that, in the past, has led to agoraphobia, a terrible fear of leaving my room, daily panic attacks that left me feeling hopeless. That sort of thing.

About a year ago now, I started working for a local hotel... it is the longest job I have ever held on to - and that's something I'm somewhat proud of. What it came down to was whether or not I was willing to face my fears (mainly, other people) and force myself to move forward. I did, under the impression that hard work, that struggle would eventually make the difference. That, eventually, working would enable me to live a life of my own, gain some kind of independence, maybe start putting away money for my son's college education.

Almost immediately there was both a strong feeling of pride - and of obligation. I purchased a car and made payments on it, I was able to apply for healthcare under the ACA and actually get insurance. My family was proud of me, friends who hadn't spoken to me in years were suddenly more friendly. It was a dramatic change for me, so dramatic that some times I still wonder if I am living a dream of someone else's life.

It's about a thirty mile commute, each way. In the winter months up here in Northern Maine, it was often like playing Russian Roulette, even in the spring and summer, driving at night... with so many moose, can be a terrifying experience.

In any event, one day my car just stopped working. I don't have much mechanical knowledge or ability, so I took it to a local ford dealership/shop (it's a ford, after all, a 2008 ford focus). I promptly learned that the transmission was broken beyond repair. The price of a new one, they informed me, was two thousand, nine hundred and fifty dollars. I started pulling out my hair. Then someone suggested I ask for a used transmission, which they eventually found for a much lower amount (600 dollars). Even so, the final tally for repairs, labor and whatnot, came out to around two thousand dollars.

I work full time. I've fought like hell to make my car payments on time, even when I had to sacrifice a great deal for it. This situation left me though, metaphorically speaking - up shit creek without a paddle. I eventually had to break down and ask my parents for help - which I don't like to do, because I live with them without being charged rent. They have been good to me, better than I deserve.

My Father, who has been working full time since he was old enough to work, couldn't borrow any more money because he is still struggling under the weight of payday loans and is in a debt consolidation program to help him get caught up. So my parents definitely couldn't come up with that money on their own.

Out of desperation, I called the owner of the dealership, explained how much I earned (about 250 a week or so) and asked if he would be willing to work out some kind of payment plan. He demanded a thousand dollars down, with the rest to be paid off in three weeks.

I could no more come up with a thousand dollars than I could levitate. So I went back to pulling my hair out and fretting. I was able to get to work with the help of family, but it was a struggle for all of us to move around our schedules and share vehicles.

Anyhow, the end result was that my Father convinced the dealership to accept 750 down, provided the remainder was paid off in 3 weeks. I haven't got 50 bucks, let alone 750, but between my parents and my sister, they've come up with enough to make the down payment.

Now what's got me staying up at night is wondering how in the hell I am going to pay them back. Between my immediate expenses and the money I am trying to save for my son, I'm left with maybe 50 bucks a week to spend on anything else (I can't even pay on the large debts I owe). It comes down to the simple acknowledgement that it will take me a long, long time... and if anything else happens in the meantime? If the car breaks down again, or I get sick, or some emergency expense leaps up to bite me on the ass... I'll be pretty much screwed.

Student loan companies are threatening wage garnishment. Collection agencies that hold my medical debt are threatening to take me to court. My job is becoming increasingly difficult and more demanding, but paying no more than it ever has (8 dollars an hour) and I'm starting to feel very overwhelmed.

So, the life of the working poor... in a nutshell, is one of deep hopelessness, pain, struggle, even shame - for me and for millions of others, I suspect. Yet at the same time, society demands so much of us. Anyone who gets help from the federal or state government is mocked, looked down upon, insulted, held in contempt... particularly in conservative areas like the county I live in. People frequently refer to low income housing projects as "ghettos", basically, a bunch of idiots who would pee their pants if they ever saw a real ghetto.

It is a struggle. I am hating my job more and more with every passing week, and developing a passionate hatred for the rich and privileged that I never imagined I would ever feel for anyone. Envy is a bad thing, I know, but it's hard not to feel envious of a boss who is a multi millionaire and pays just barely above the minimum wage - who tells his staff he can no longer afford their vacations, or to give any more raises.

We often wonder why so Americans have issues with anxiety, or depression, why we have so much medical debt, so many issues as a society, why so many people have thrown in the towel and don't even want to work anymore. Why people resort to alcoholism, theft, or crime. I think a lot of the issue has to do with the employers and "job creators" of America. They have made working for a living so unrewarding for the majority of us. Nonetheless, I am often told that, in this economy, I should be grateful just to have a job, that I should be grateful for the right to complain.

So... I'm going to try to find a way to go back to school, keep working at my lousy job, and keeping everything bottled up inside for the most part. It's pretty much 50/50 that I'll either eventually get somewhere, or have a complete mental breakdown.

Sorry for the long rant. I imagine that there are a lot of people here who feel the same... how do you deal? I think I'm slowly losing the fight.