Seventh grade. I came home to a sheet of yellow paper taped on the front door. "Eviction Notice," bolded and imprinted on the inside of my eyelids for years to come. Everyone walking by could see it and immediately recognize what the brightly hued slip meant. This was not the only time this happened in the next few years.
Growing up poor means not having friends over because you don't want them to see the things you don't have or the food that comes from the dollar store. It means that when you start to not like the things you wear anymore, you have to suck it up and keep wearing it because clothes shopping is saved for two times of the year: Christmas and Back to School. It means not being able to buy milk so dinner is macaroni and cheese made with water only.
Growing up poor means looking for a job the day you turn 14 and feeling like a failure because you don't get one until you're 16 (since no one trusts a newly turned teenager). It means pretending to be busy every time your friends go out on the weekend because you know your mom will give you money if you ask, but it also means she won't eat until she gets home after work. And sometimes, you ask, but you see her shaking hands and how tired she looks when she walks through the door so you try harder to remember. Being raised on no money means opening the front door to no power and cell phones shut off. And a lot of times, it means becoming an actress for a while. Acting like you didn't want the thing your eyes lingered on at the store. Getting dressed up and acting like everything is totally fine at family events.
The things you learn when you grow up with no money stay with you forever. I have yet to cure the anxiety that surrounds me about money and big expenditures. I still feel nauseous when I pay for something more than $50, and I can feel my palms get sweaty as I sign my name. I don't know if this will ever go away or if my anxiety will plague me for the rest of my life. I am not sure if my stress sweating at every swipe of my debit card will continue. But lately, I've began to think that it might not be too bad if it does.
I have an advantage. If I am frugal and scared to overspend, maybe I can budget better and be more strict about what I buy. If I am so used to being broke, maybe it means I won't blow the little amount of money that makes its way towards me. If I remember 13-year-old me being locked out and losing the place she spent most of her time, maybe I'll get my act together as an adult so any kids that I end up caring for won't have to deal with that.
Even though I have lost two homes in my life, some kids never get a home to lose, so I guess it could be worse. And maybe that's enough to get me through the next time I decide to look at my bank statement.
