Money Blues Senryu

 

Money by Mackenzie Marco on Unsplash

my chronic problem

can be summed up in four words:

a lack of money.

notes

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2023-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-3

Write a problem poem.

It's a problem many of us have.

Lack of funds.

I added text art and effects to the base image using Pixlr. You are welcome to share the resulting Senryu/Haiga, but please credit Cara Hartley/Ornery Owl if you do. A link back to this blog would also be a nice touch.

I feel like I've been singing the Money Blues my entire life. My family was very poor when I was a young child. I have spoken before of my loathing for boiled soybeans, a high-protein food with all the delightful flavor of plastic and dirt. I like toasted soybeans, particularly with a little salt or perhaps some soy sauce. I like edamame. I like soy jerky, which is expensive, so I don't eat it very often. Boiled soybeans are nasty. Eating my shoe would be about as pleasurable.

Once my father graduated from college, my parents were solidly in the middle class. They were terrible with money. Combining the bad habits I learned from them with my own impulsivity issues was a straight-up disaster. I'm still paying for mistakes I made thirty to forty years ago. If you think debts get written off after seven years allowing you the chance to start fresh, you're wrong. 

Currently, all my credit cards are maxed out. I do make my monthly minimum payments and I've become pretty damn good at making them on time if I do say so myself. I'm also paying off a small loan. Between that and the bills, I haven't got squat left over, not that SSDI allows me to have more than $2000 in savings anyway. Fuck that shit. 

However, as if my current bills weren't enough, I now have an old credit card that I defaulted on after I got fired from my job as a homecare nurse singing the dissonant tune of $900 in my direction. I can ask about getting an extension on my current loan, but I doubt they'll give me one because my debt-to-income ratio is way too high. I suppose it might be worth a shot because I haven't missed a single payment and always make them on time, but I won't hold my breath.

Anyway, one thing I've learned is beating myself up doesn't help. I'll just keep working to dig myself out of my current hole and try not to get into any others.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

~Ornery Owl Has Sung the Money Blues~

Image by Alexa from Pixabay

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFyGuuJJfKU

OctPoWriMo 2015: Day 21: Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed

If I admit I'm feeling overwhelmed

Others turn away

Or tell me to keep smiling anyway

When I feel overwhelmed

I'd like to walk into a swamp

Let the brackish water engulf me

Let myself submerge beneath the muck

Too many obligations bury me beneath their weight

Slam into me like a flood following a deluge

Inundate my life

I can find nothing of sympathy anywhere

When I am overwhelmed, I become quite sure

That no-one cares a hill of beans for me

~Cie~

Notes:

Things these days are ridiculous. The common person can never get ahead. Many of us die buried under a mountain of debt and dead dreams, though not for lack of trying.

My health insurance costs $400 a month. This is actually the cheapest way to go. The other options involve insanely high deductibles. My deductible is $250 a year.

My son's student loans are about to go into default and I am helping him as he is not currently employed. He has issues with depression, anxiety and agoraphobia and is on the high functioning end of the autism spectrum. Finding work is difficult for him. 

I have more car repairs coming.

I'm still paying for my own schooling per my contract, although I haven't been able to take any classes in a year.

I already work full time. I don't know how I could handle a second job along with my outside obligations.

I make well above minimum wage. I don't know how people who make minimum wage survive.

It's simply wrong that people have to strive to see nothing come from it.

My suicide ideation increases exponentially when I become this overwhelmed. Note that I said suicide ideation, not planning. Most of the methods I fantasize about using to off myself are ridiculous and impractical. 

If I went to the ER every time I experienced suicide ideation, I'd have to live there. Then I'd owe them money. Besides, I hate that place. It isn't very welcoming or comfortable.

I like my job. I love my family, although I seem to be a bad fit with them. They neither seem to like nor understand nor care about me. I love the things I dream up when I'm writing. I wish I could live in that world. 

I hate my life.

Please don't tell me not to be "negative." This is my place to let it all hang out. If one doesn't let negativity out, it eats them up from within. 

~Cie~

Afterthought:

Things have improved since the time I wrote this. I still have overwhelming money problems, but I don't feel as taken for granted. It is more important than people realize to feel as if you are somehow valued.

OctPoWriMo 2015: Day 3: Time Suck

Time Suck

I begin to feel

Like I'm not even real

Because I have so many obligations 

Obligations that exhaust me

Obligations that consume me

Obligations that doom me

Or at least gloom me

As the water drains around me

As the weariness surrounds me

I feel my life begin to flow

From a wound that seems to grow

As I attract more and more

Time vampires with insatiable needs

Which only I can feed

What happened to my dreams?

My hopeful, youthful schemes

More and more of them fade away

With every passing day

I watch them wash down the drain

As I wonder how I even remain

How did I get here

And can it end any way

Besides being carried out feet first

Bled to death by too many obligations

Too little money

And too many time vampires

Who want to consume every minute of mine

~Cie~

Notes:

The suggestion from OctPoWriMo was to create a shape poem using the word and sentence prompts. Well, this is the shape of chaos!

Actually, I didn't create a shape poem at all. I didn't even see that part of the prompt or I probably would have driven myself crazy trying to create a shape poem to satisfy the OCD part of my psyche. I literally have OCD, I'm not making a joke at the expense of those who live with the condition. As a person living with the condition, however, I reserve the right to joke about my particular manifestation thereof.

I've been extremely sleep deprived this week. This poem is an expression of that, as well as an expression of the frustration of never having enough money. I make 41,000 dollars a year, which may sound adequate, but it's not. I'm always having to fall behind on one thing to catch up on another. 

I have a very high interest rate mortgage plus lot rent. Here is a warning never to buy a new mobile home. If you are going to buy a mobile home, buy an older one and pay for it all at once. Never get a mortgage on a mobile home. If I had known now what I know then...well, I might have had to do it anyway. I was in a bad situation and needed to get out, and my credit wasn't good enough to qualify for a loan on anything but a mobile home.

I have two old cars that I have to keep running. I have student loans that I'm still paying off from nursing school to get my LPN license. I'm still in school to try and get my RN license, but costs for testing are prohibitive. I just finished paying off a bunch of medical bills and finally caught up on my utility bill. Then there's groceries and gas. It never ends.

I have a very intelligent son who is on the high functioning end of the autism spectrum. He is 25 years old and has never been able to get a job or finish his bachelor's degree because of depression and anxiety issues. I believe in him, and I believe one day he will triumph. My mother, however, constantly lectures and berates him, and I end up caught in the middle. My relationship with my son is good. My relationship with my mother is strained. My son can't stand my mother. My mother demands to know why my son isn't better yet when he's been in counseling for so long. And on and on it goes.

I was so sleep deprived this past week that I had a couple of what might be described as minor psychotic episodes, where I woke up doing bizarre things that made sense to me when I woke up but later had no explanation at all. I didn't sleepwalk, which I sometimes do when I'm very tired. I was still in bed, but engaged in strange actions, i.e. trying to pick the wall apart or tear the covers apart or picking at my skin. These sorts of things only happen when I'm severely sleep deprived, and they scare me.

Through all this, in spite of the fact that my mother thinks that my creative pursuits are foolish and the fact that I long ago realized that I would never be a success in the arts, I continue creating or at least being involved in creative efforts by supporting others. I will not give this up. It will be part of this entire lifetime, and I intend for it to continue to be part of any subsequent lives. It is who I am, and I will not allow anyone to take that from me.

~Cie~ 

NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 16: Terzanelle: Broke and Broken

She looks a bit like me. Lucky her.

Broke and Broken

Here's a story that makes me cry

I don't know prosperity at all

To me, the idea's a lie

When I'm scheduled I answer the call

I work hard to earn my pay

Spring and winter, summer and fall

I'm lucky I've a place to stay

I'd not get another if I lost it

My credit is so bad these days

Things don't look good from where I sit

I worry about my future life

Will there be anyplace I can even fit

I've rarely known anything but strife

I'm just a broke and broken soul

And yet I'm told to be excited about life

Life's just a march to the hole

Into which my broke body will lie

I want back the hopes and dreams that life stole

But I can't even afford tears to cry

~Blooming Psycho~

The Prompt:

And now for our (as always, optional) prompt! Today, I challenge you to write in the form known as the terzanelle. A hybrid of the villanelle and terza rima, terzanelles consist of five three-line stanzas and a concluding quatrain. Lines and rhymes are chained throughout the poem, so that the middle line of each triplet is repeated as the last line of the following triplet (or, for the last triplet, in the concluding quatrain). The pattern goes like this:

ABA
bCB
cDC
dED
eFE
fAFA or fFAA.

You can use any meter or line length, though you may want to try to have all of your lines in the same meter! (And you can always fall back on that old favorite, iambic pentameter).

OctPoWriMo 2014: Day 23

Image Source

Now and Next

Another chapter begins

Within this aging skin

Turn the page

Feel weariness, not rage

And then there was

Less and less to hope for every day

But I had to keep hope alive anyway

I begin again

When this life is at an end

And then there was

No respite from the fight

I begin again tonight

Now it is time to write

Set some small spark alight

No boldness left, only desperation

In a life without respite or vacation

~The Cheese~

Boldly going where all too many are going in this day and age: on an endless cycle with less than nothing to show for it

Cheesy's Notes:

It's my blog and I'll bitch if I want to.

Howdy. I am the creator of Team Netherworld, which is home to several creative blogs including the one you are currently reading. I've got a rant in my pants, and I'm going to undo the top button and let it out!

So many times I see people apologizing for writing things that are dark and/or raw. This is a source of frustration to me, not because I'm angry at the person for feeling like they need to apologize, but because our society does this to people.

My situation is not particularly good, in fact, it's pretty well straight up bad. I am not the only one who can freely say this in this day and time. If it's this bad for me, imagine how bad it is for the millions attempting to live on minimum wage when I make more than double minimum wage and am still unable to stay afloat.

I have not eaten since yesterday. Granted, I have past issues with eating disorders, but that isn't what's going on in this case. I haven't eaten because I'm rationing my food. I'm rationing my food because I need, for one thing, to pay for my prescription for thyroid medicine. I also need to pay my wireless bill ($45 a month for a shared plan for my son and I, and these are our only phones) and my Internet bill.

I do not use the Internet only for "frivolous" things like playing on my blogs or occasionally watching Netflix. (I got rid of satellite TV years ago--it was costing me $45 a month and the service sucked anyway.) I am also taking online classes in an attempt to eventually obtain my R.N. license. Yay or something.

At my income level ($18/hour) I do not qualify for any sort of public assistance because I make too much money. However, most every cent I make goes for paying my mortgage + lot rent on the mobile home where I live, which does not have a working heater or shower, and I can't afford to have either one repaired. I shower at work and use a couple space heaters in the winter.

About this time, out come the "justs."

"Just move out of there into an apartment."

A two bedroom apartment in this area is not significantly less expensive than what I currently pay for mortgage and lot rent, number one. I'm not talking "luxury apartment." The going rate for a standard two bedroom is $1000 a month. One bedrooms are around $850.

Second, my credit is shot. I maxed my credit cards, mostly on car repair and vet bills. Without at least fair credit, there is no way I can qualify to move into an apartment. Besides, I'd either have to keep paying the mortgage/lot rent until someone else bought the place (and mobile homes are a rabid, snarling, hairy ass bitch to sell) or I'd have to allow it to go into foreclosue, which would tank my credit even further, so I might as well continue to live in the thing.

Yes, I have cats. Five of them. All of them are rescues that I got years ago. I won't take in any more because I can't afford to have their companionship although I do care about them. Nor will I get rid of the ones I currently have. They trust me and depend on me. They don't deserve to be traumatized by being rehomed so late in life--and I don't deserve to be traumatized by having to give them up. Anyone who thinks I do doesn't have a heart, plain and simple. These critters are my family.

My other family member is my son, who has problems finding a job, not because he is "lazy" or "unmotivated," but because he lives with severe depression and anxiety issues which sideline him.

My son has his own apartment, which his father sends him money to pay for. He prefers living on his own, and I back him on this.

Both of us live with mental illness. I have type 2 bipolar disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. I struggle with hoarding items, not animals. At this stage I'm able to deal with throwing things out somewhat, but I'm often too tired to try when I come home from work.

I've tried to find a second job. Nobody wants to fresh hire someone who's nearly 50, even in areas in which I have experience.

I'm not revealing any of this to try and make anyone feel sorry for me. I'm revealing it to hopefully make people think about the fact that I am far from alone in my state of existence. There are millions like me, and I don't see it getting better. I'm fortunate to have a job and someplace to live, even if it's far from optimal. 

It is very difficult to make it on one full time income and that should not be the case. Something is very, very wrong here. I make far more money than I ever have, and I am bringing home far less to show for it. Back when I was making $11 an hour, I was able to make ends meet. I used to be able to go out to dinner weekly. Now I can't even afford McDonald's. In other words, even though I make significantly more money, it buys me significantly less.

Also, I would like people to consider one other thing. Rather than telling people to "cheer up" or belittling them for expressing dark and/or angry feelings, perhaps it is best to take into account that maybe said person has reason for what they are expressing. Writing should free us, not force us to try and be a little ray of sunshine even when we feel like we are wandering through a dark, moonless night with no lantern.

~The Cheese Hath Spoken~