Worried about money

This might be a long post, so don't say I didn't warn you.

Ever since I can remember, I've been worried about money. Mostly, because my parents didn't have any and no one was really trying to help out. The guy that knocked up my mom didn't really give a sh*t enough to pay child support until the state forced him to - when I was 15. I don't know what to say much about the other siblings fathers. The last one is still with the family and whom I affectionately call "Dad". The middle one, well - let's just say that his family made up for his losses.

So, my mom escaped from a literally messy, abusive household. She told me tales about how my grandfather owned this-or-that and how she had one of those kid driving cars before they were popular and at Wal-Mart. To this day, she's managed to keep some of those treasures. One of which I am hiding safely for her.

So, you can guess that in 1975, there wasn't much in the way of "women's rights" or protection available to the midwest. Especially right smack in the buckle of the bible belt. They would have said, "Well, that's what you get for having children out of wedlock." They couldn't really see past their lace-decorated turtlenecks or blouse-fronts.

I feel like, now, I've learned a lot about money. I thought that it was only bequeathed to those who "knew it all" or had kind, generous hearts. WRONG! Snobby rich bastards with their thumbs up their butt have MILLIONS of dollars to play with... and have never stepped foot in a Wal-Mart, let alone a grocery store.

(no offense, GHWB... you are quite rich, though)

So, what does that have to say about my tiny little world of poverty that I've been in? Nothing. I've just been in this tiny little world. What do I know about being rich?! I've never been rich! All I know is what they say about people with money - how they never have to deal with doing their taxes every year... how they get to sit back and just choose what they want to see on Netflix without a single thought (if they have that... maybe they have satellite superbeams or something, I don't know)... how they once thought about helping out a starving child in Africa covered in flies with a runny nose all dried up on their face.

What I do know is that I've tried, for years, to be rich. I started off by making sure that I was successful in school. Because what do they say every year when they visit one of the poorest schools in the midwestern region? "Stay in school, don't do drugs, and you'll be a success. Just like me!!!"

So guess what my little naive a** did. Yep. I stayed in school. I quibbled over every grade lower than a B- (really a B, but who's counting now?!). I started being in afterschool programs because "the good colleges like well-rounded people." I sucked at sports - royally - so I took up band like any good nerd would. I hid my identity to people. I tried to not say that I was "from the projects" because then ladies would tighten up their purses like I was a little street urchin in a pageboy hat.

I was in soooo many summer programs that I can't even really count them right now. I was trying to be in girl scouts, but that costs money (and seeing that I'm gay now, that probably wouldn't have went over well). I did everything that I thought I could - for free - to establish myself with the wealthier society.

(Yes, this was my theme song... except I was never considered a sex symbol)

Pretty much... I was boring. There was nothing you could get me to do. I couldn't wait to look down my nose at all those a**holes who made my life a living hell with mocking the way I dressed, what I said, the way I said it, and all the other things that I thought would make me successful that they hated.

I got to college, not necessarily the one I wanted, but I figured that if I just "put my mind to it", I would be successful in no time. I had my resume done and primed with all type of organizations that I led, my GPA in college and high school, how well I did in whatever I was good at (mostly Math and Science) and I was just waiting for Southwestern Bell, IBM, Microsoft, or some company to just come knocking at my door with a well-dressed executive begging me to reconsider their offer.

Well, that... and the private jets... and the fabulous meeting rooms... and the private bathroom had to wait. Little did I know, you need money to even GET to those type of jobs. I mean, you're a poor street urchin and there's 1os of 1,000s of you in New York City that can blow you out of the water. At least a hundred alone in my competitor city of Chicago. I felt like crap.

(this is the foundation that I received a college scholarship through...
mine was from the St. Louis/Gateway branch...
it's about 9 minutes long)

So, you can see that through all my nerdiness, scholarship opportunities (I received several from different universities... only about 2 of them were full [pay for everything] scholarships), and just plain knowing how to stand up straight and speak clearly, I think I didn't really have the advantages that I needed to succeed. The one thing missing? State of mind. I had NOTHING to keep me from going into my hereditary depression (which shows itself at around the age of 20 once kids hit college).

I suffered enormous losses in memory. I was already missing class due to a possible diagnosis of endometriosis. I was prepared for the endormetriosis as my mother had it all throughout her high school career and missed classes, too. I wrote a note to each faculty member to explain the issue before classes even started (yes, I TOLD you I was a nerd and goody two-shoes).

I had a solidified relationship with a boy for about 5+ years. He was nice and protective. We went to the same school and I thought, "Psh, I can breeze through the classes here, get a good degree, then go to a graduate school and maybe think about getting my doctorate."

That was all about 10 years ago. Now, I'm sitting in a one-bedroom apartment.

(what I expected... and how I was... except replace the "platonic boyfriend" with a real one...
not much of a story now, is it?)

So, enough with the "Woah as me, my life didn't turn out the way that I expected" drama. My main point is this: I feel lied to. I feel hoodwinked, swindled, and run amuck. I wasted the best part of my years AND - not to mention - MY CHILDHOOD running after a dream that didn't really ever come true. Here I am, 35 (almost), expecting to be retired because I worked my a** off... and what I really am is just one paycheck away from being broke (well, I'm broke now, but you get the gist).

I'm just angry, confused, and tired of fighting over little pennies like a coop full of hens fighting over corn. I really just want to live my life, help others in need get to where I am, and then go about my business - not hurting anyone, not harming anyone.

I, essentially, feel like I failed. That I just went about this all wrong. I feel like I have to explain to people that I've been working non-stop every year since the age of 10 (really) to be successful and have not really taken a vacation or time off from it. I just keep going, hoping - dreaming, really - that one day, ALL of this work will pay off. And it never does. So I keep going. Driven by some imaginary dream that was instilled by a guy in a suit from IBM (I should have known better when I found out that they worked for the Nazis - no offense... just anger).

So, I put all my anger in words on this page - hoping that, one day, I'll be able to read back through them and have this, "OMG, I've been doing it wrong" moment.

(this was me, right after I lost my job at a huge law-firm that gave me things like Christmas bonuses and stuff... still waiting for that "moment", btw)

So, that's my story. A sorry, saggy sap just waiting for God, Buddha, someone to tap me on the shoulder and say, "Here... here ya go. You're ready now. This is what you've been asking for." Until then, I'll just hang around here until the universe tells me to go. Oh, and don't worry - I'm not one of those angry people who just sit around on their hineys and don't try to do anything to change their life. I'll keep trying, researching, experimenting with different things in the meanwhile. I'm sure that when my time comes, I'll hit it big.