It's not often anymore that I feel like sharing with the rest of the world what's going on in my life. It's even less often when it's not optimistic or happy. Then there are the moments where I realize that it's healthier to admit that my life isn't the postcard you see on my facebook profile, and that I really am your average 20-something who is struggling to make it in this world.
I knew, when I got a degree in music, that I was walking into a long span of money being tight. I knew that I'd never be allowed to whine or complain about my wages or job, because the moment I stepped up and said anything, someone would turn around and tell me how I should have majored in engineering or one of the sciences. It's worn on me for the last year and a half as I've transitioned into a working adult from the world of academia.
Well, I've learned a lot from being an adult so far. And you know? I've come to determine it's not about the fact that I'm a musician that makes me broke. When I get gigs, they are fantastic bonuses that go straight to savings, or can pay off a credit card, or put groceries on the tables for a couple months. No, it's not being a musician. It's just the point I am in my life and career that means being broke, for some reason. You see, I haven't started my career. I have a full-time job, and I practice (what feels like) all the time. But I can't say that I'm a professional musician, because that chapter of my life hasn't begun.
Meanwhile, the job that I have to keep a roof over my head and food on my table is only barely doing that. Without going into too much detail, I'm being underpaid for the position I'm in, and while my team has been fighting for all of us to get pay that actually supports the cost of living in this city, it's not a quick process. So instead of telling you with a huge smile on my face that I love my job, and have a great life, fantastic apartment, free transportation, etc., let me paint the picture that actually reflects reality.
I don't make what my housemates refer to as a "real adult wage" ($13/hour), and I have two roommates to be able to afford my two-bedroom apartment. I live in the midst of the loudest part of a college campus neighborhood because the rent is cheaper, even though it means sacrificing sleep. I have free transportation because there's no way in hell I can afford a car. I can't really get gigs (and don't put myself out there for them) because most of the time I can't get there by bus...or I can't in any reasonable amount of time. I haven't really bought anything "fun" in months, because any time I drop $20 on something, I end up unable to pay for groceries for a week or so. My medical benefits are great, except they don't cover a couple items (that really shouldn't affect the general population) such as splints to help my tendinitis in my wrists. I'm scrambling to find $200 to pay that bill. $35 for the copay for medication that helps me do my job doesn't seem like much to pay each month, until you factor that that's a week or so worth of groceries.
I'm going out of my mind, but I'm too stubborn and proud to ask for help. Also, because if I ask, I know that someone out there will tell me that I should have gotten a different degree. Or should pick up a second job. By the way, can't start working part-time at Starbucks (or something else that might fit around my full-time job) because that kills my practice time. Did I mention that I'm still trying to get that career off the ground?
I am surviving. I haven't given up hope. But I'm exhausted, and tired of fighting my paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle. Tired of finally having a small lump of cash saved up, only to have something happen, like a root canal, which wipes out everything.
I'm just tired.
“You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.” Shaun Hick
