Running Out Of Options
What’s the mother of invention again?
Need.
I need to figure this out.
I need to change my life.
I need to make more money.
I need to do this for my daughter.
I need to be happy again.
I need to live with purpose.
These are the thoughts that haunt me day and night--ever since my normally fulltime job began dropping me down to part time work this spring.
After doing this work from home for more than three years, they began to take clients away when I asked why I wasn’t getting new ones.
It’s been a nightmare, and I feel like I am barely hanging on.
I’m a single mom who’s been raising her child without much financial help from the father.
I’ve been losing about $1,000 every month now from my previous pay and it looks like it's going down even further, so the bills are piling up and the basics are harder to come by. I’m worried every month about making rent and utilities.
That means groceries and extras for my daughter are harder to come by now. I had to ask her dad’s mom to buy her summer clothes. I’ve never done that before.
Then I had a ruptured ovarian cyst last weekend and by the time everything was over I had to cough up $250 which put me short on my June rent.
I was just like, of course. Because things weren’t stressful enough.
Why don’t I get a new job?
Honestly, I don’t have a lot of options these days. I have a four year old daughter at home who isn’t in daycare or preschool--those things aren’t cheap, you know. She won’t start kindergarten until the fall of 2019.
I also don’t have a car or driver’s license--I never have. We now live in a part of Tennessee where there isn’t public transportation nearby. Uber and Lyft are only occasionally available, and a cab service isn’t reliable to depend on for work. There’s no sidewalks, nothing walkable in our neighborhood.
Years ago, as a single person living in the Twin Cities, I never knew how simply having job options or reliable public transit were luxuries.
And I use to think that pursuing a career in writing was a luxury I couldn’t afford. But isn’t it worse to ignore my passion and purpose?
More freelancing?
Sigh.
Soul-crushing sigh.
I was lucky to get the work I did for the past few years, but I now know the gig economy is not for me unless I get to write with purpose.
And what’s happened to me this year has made me never want to freelance again. I have been working for friends--not strangers. But my contract with them is as an “independent contractor.” So they’ve got all the power.
If my friends don’t care about keeping me with enough clients… do I really want to try my luck with strangers?
I won’t lie. My confidence is also pretty much shot at this point. I'd rather focus on myself as a writer and bring up the issues that matter to me instead of "writing content" for other businesses.
What about welfare?
Single moms are often on government aid, right? Shoot, I grew up in a single mother, welfare household--my mom never worked.
When I was pregnant, I used food stamps and WIC. I refused the cash assistance (TANF) program for a few reasons. Which explain why I’m not doing it now.
For one thing, it’s not much money. Every state varies but we’re talking just a couple hundred dollars a month. In exchange for that money, you get to enjoy constant red tape and since my income fluctuates--the paperwork is a bitch.
Now, I DID apply for food stamps…back in April. They were not approved because the county said I didn’t turn in the paperwork. Paperwork I emailed, faxed and mailed.
Like, really?
I find it unlikely that no one in the office received my paperwork when I sent it three different ways.
I can’t even.
What I’m doing now
Everything is so… crappy right now workwise, I feel like all I can do is take a risk and try to get my writing to go somewhere. It’s really scary, but I have to invest in myself and believe I can build a better life.
That’s why I’m here on Medium. That’s why I’m working everyday on pieces you haven’t even seen. There are 100+ drafts in my desk right now. So I'm constantly writing.
Am I a brilliant or prolific writer? No. My writing is what I call “down-to-earth awkward.” It’s honest and raw. I write about the shitty stuff I’ve been through like abuse, mental illness, body issues, and crisis pregnancy. I write about becoming a purposeful parent despite all of the brokeness.
Of course I’m scared that I’m just wasting my time. I would be crazy not to be scared. But guess what?
Everyday, at least one person tells me they read my work on Medium, and it meant something to them.
There we go.
Because it’s not all about the money.
I’m making this whole leap of faith to follow my purpose. Writing about my passions. Writing about some really hard topics.
There are people who need to hear my stories, and who can find healing in them. I believe if I keep writing, there’s a way for the money and the purpose to intersect. Maybe on Medium.
I signed up to write for Medium on April 25. My pay for those first few days was less than $1.50, but in less than two weeks I got top writer status in parenting and mental health. Then the editors picked up one of my stories and gave me a bonus for two pieces.
As of yesterday, my May earnings are sitting around $685.
That’s almost rent money.
That’s hope.
The growing fear
Although my traffic remains better than it was before the featured story, unless another members-only piece of mine gets hot, next month’s check will be very, very small. Like… less than $50.
That’s scary, because I’m writing constantly. I’m putting my whole heart into my work.
I’m just not getting those claps I need on the member-only stories.
And I don’t think it’s because they’re no good. Since I’m getting great responses from people who identify with the issues I’m talking about.
I just don’t have that audience of members built up yet.
Yet.
The daily leap
At the end of the day, I am so tired of living a small life. I’m tired of never taking the risks to do what I love. That’s why I’m determined to keep writing and keep believing every day that this will grow into a bigger opportunity.
Every day I write on Medium is a leap of faith.
There are books I plan to write. More stories to be told. More people to help by starting conversations about issues that really matter.
When I write, I am greatly inspired by Mister Rogers. And he said:
“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”
So I'll keep writing, keep putting out messages I believe in, keep sharing my heart.
And I'll keep believing that my hard work will pay off and my audience will find me.
Who's with me?
