I’ve been trying to disconnect from hustle culture, the need for a side hustle, the need to turn everything into a commodity. I’m finally at a point where I am mostly financially comfortable – I’m 44 ffs – but finally able to pay rent and bills and the kids’ extracurriculars and my extracurriculars and medical needs (I pay for private physio for example, use taxis to get up the hill to work, etc), without worrying too much about when payday is. I don’t panic when groceries are being done but payday is a couple of days later and trust me, in this economy I know I am fucking blessed.
I’ve spent most of my life in or around poverty. Growing I lived in this weird half and half where mum didn’t have money to replace the toaster or the dining table, and only ever gave me £2.50 to supplement my free school meals (50p extra a day). I would steal 2ps from her money jar and feel bad about it, and then replace it with money I stole from my dad’s money jar; which was a massive plastic Newcastle Brown bottle he mostly put £2 coins into when he quit smoking and then kept doing so even after he started smoking again.
During the holidays, it was different. I spent it with my dad and grandparents. Both my grandparents had three pensions each (military, private work pensions and their state pension). My dad hadn’t worked since he was in his 20s due to his epilepsy – he lived at home, paid no rent or bills (except for a £2 BT phone stamp if anyone remembers something so ancient). He got disability living allowance, housing benefits and carer’s allowance (cause his mum was “caring” for him) and paid no child support. So he had money to splash around. Money that always came with strings attached. We got very good at telling between dad being drunk enough to give us hell and dad being drunk enough to give us money. My dad didn’t want us to take advantage of our nan who was always half a bottle of sherry in regardless of the time and gramps would give us money in secret whenever he won a bit on the Irish Lottery.
As a student, into my 20s, I was working and still skint until I went into therapy and then moved back to Wales. Since I got married, we’ve been okay, we ate a lot of rice and beans for a couple of years, it’s felt like we’ve teetered on going under a few times. But the rent has always been paid even if not all the bills have been. It’s one of the things my mum always told me – always pay the rent. The food can run out and the electricity can be turned off but at leats you’ll still have a roof over your head. Given that she grew up in worse poverty than me, it was one of the few things I definitely listened to her about.
But now, now I’m in this position where I have a little money left over at the end of the month. I have savings. When the music teacher suggested Flower can move up the a lever harp and I could rent one, I didn’t immediately panic at the cost (I cried a couple of years ago, when I realised I could actually afford for her to have lessons as I had been sure I wouldn’t be able to afford it). I’m getting my teeth fixed (well, one fixed and two removed). The kids have it easy in comparison (well, I suspect they’re both neurodivergent and Tabby had cancer and is hard of hearing).
But you can see why it’s hard to decouple myself from side hustle culture because I’ve been in survival mode for decades now and I’ve tried to monetise every hobby to varying degrees of success in varying degrees of desperation.
And I’m trying not to do that. I still have my shop, because I do like making badges and bookmarks and stickers and other bits and bobs. I enjoy a bit of extra cash to buy stuff that I don’t need, like more pens. I’m trying to write more, fanfic, original fic, blog posts, rambling into the void in case anyone might be interested (like this). I started bullet journaling last month – not planning, I can’t plan, but I can record. I have a couple of journals – an art one, a day to day one and a geeky one. I like printing pictures of our adventures and making pages for the kids. I used to do it, years ago when I still lived in Leicester and I have missed it.
And I’ve tried a Solo RPG – I posted my play-through for the The Last Tea Shop last week and I’ve got a few on the list to try. I’ve also been toying with creating my own Solo RPG. I’ve been doodling, drawing, reading, got some watercolours (I used to do a lot of watercolours in art therapy and sessions with Mind). I’ve been trying to just enjoy the time I am not at work.
I’m even trying not to obsess over my sleep. I’m even considering some sort of activity like yoga or Pilates. I’ve been learning to drive so that it opens up some more possibilities for me because doing anything when you’re reliant on the bus or your wife is tough; more so when you live on the edge of nowhere Wales.
I’ve been trying to find some peace with working a boring 9 to 5 and just living rather than surviving and I’m working on it slowly, bit by bit. It’s not easy, with my health (mental and physical) and my trauma. I’m not really at a place where I can increase my anti-depressants and only one increase away from topping off my anxiety/sleeping tablets. I have nowhere else to go with it, and I’ve done counselling, done therapy, exhausted the NHS of all the options.
(I am aware I could go back into therapy or counselling and I considered it briefly when my youngest was having chemo for her cancer but ultimately, I just don’t think it’s what I need).
So, here’s where I stand, trying to return to creativity for creating, even if it’s just for me.
Especially if it’s just for me.
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