Living On The Edge
When you live paycheck to paycheck
Millions of Americans are just one unexpected car repair or emergency dental bill away from total financial catastrophe.
I’m one of those people.
It’s not something I care to admit or even like to think about. There have been many nights when I’ve lain awake wondering how I’m going to scrape together the extra cash I’ll need to make that upcoming estimated tax payment because the IRS always wants what it wants when it wants it.
I spin out whenever I think too much about my financial future. I’m going to be 56 this year and I’ve got less than $300 in savings and a tiny life insurance policy with “living” benefits in the event that I become critically or chronically ill.
When I recently checked my social security status, I saw that if I put off retirement until I’m 70, I’ll receive a whopping $1,150 a month. Sounds great, right? Only, I live in L.A. That wouldn’t even begin to cover my rent, so I might want to consider relocating to some place like Wichita where I’d subsist on Cup Noodles I’d purchase with the monthly payout I’d get from my posts on Medium. I mean, by the time I’m 70, I could potentially be making like five bucks a month. That’s a lot of ramen!
Better yet, I’ll just sell everything and buy myself one of those tricked-out camper vans and join the ranks of retirees living the nomad lifestyle. I’d finally get to visit awesome places like Yellowstone and Monument Valley. Maybe I’d even make it all the way to New England to see the fall foliage. Wouldn’t that be something?
And after many years, when the end of my life span is nigh, I’ll simply pull off the highway and walk into the heart of a dense forest and purposefully get lost and eventually succumb to the earth from whence I came. The crows can peck out my eyeballs and feast on my entrails. No need for funeral expenses.
I’d make sure to leave my van behind with a note attached to the windshield that reads:
The pink slip with my signature is in the glove box. It’s all yours!
Although, my daughter might take umbrage with this on-the-road retirement/end-of-life plan and probably some of my friends would miss me.
While I would much rather live in a permanent state of pseudo-adulthood, I can’t deny I’ve been feeling a slight sense of urgency prickling beneath my devil-may-care demeanor. It’s imperative I figure out how to improve my current financial situation and thereby secure my future as best I can. Preferably, sooner than later. I mean, my spousal support isn’t going to last forever and my body reminds me all the time that dog walking is gradually taking its toll.
You’d think having a bachelor’s degree from UCLA might have directed me toward an illustrious career in something that offered me a 401(k) and a pension. But, here I am, a college graduate who walks dogs for a living and, although it’s a decent living, in that, all my bills get paid (barely) and I’m not living in fear of being homeless (yet) and I have healthcare (thanks, Obama), I’m still just one unforeseen major pet emergency or critical health crisis away from total economic collapse.
It’s not the most comfortable way to live.
I know I’m smart and I have a lot of valuable skills, they’re just not the kind of skills that pays the bills in today’s job market. Like, I’m not at all tech-savvy. I had to Google what SEO means. Do you have any idea how long it takes me to figure out how to use all the bells and whistles on my iPhone? Ugh. It’s just easier to ask my daughter.
Additionally, I don’t have a ton of work experience beyond retail, teacher’s assistant, and barista. Slinging coffee is a job. Dog walking is a job. Doctor, lawyer, educator. Those are careers. I’ve never actually had a career. This is mainly due to a variety of what I believe were meaningful life choices I won’t go into, because we’d be here all day and, honestly, I’m not entirely sure I’d go back change anything as my life has been rife with so much beauty and love.
Still.
I’ve debated going back to school and getting a master’s degree in library science or psychology. But do I really want to acquire massive student loan debt at this point in my life? Do I even want to go back to school?
The truth is, there’s really only one thing I’ve ever wanted to do; ever since second grade, when my teacher, Mrs. Smith, bound all my stories into a single book.
I want to write.
I recognize the chances of my becoming the next Susan Orlean or Anne Lamott are incredibly slim. Like, I shouldn’t quit my day job any time soon, regardless of my having had a couple of essays published in HuffPost and the Los Angeles Times.
In fact, I should probably look for an additional job, or another job altogether; one that comes with medical and dental and a 401(k) before living in a van really is my only viable option.
