The Poorer White Man
So, today I have been confronted with being what I categorize as The Poorer White Woman. Now, this came about because of one visit to see a Benefits Coordinator, Mary Garland, at AllHealth. I told her I had the SSI and SSDI issue being worked on. She did inform me that my lawyer for SSDI who told me I wasn't eligible is wrong and a bad lawyer and is sending me to see someone else. Go Mary! I suspected this was the case as I have had an uncomfortable feeling with the firm I selected from day one. I am going to re-apply.
Anyway, with that under control, she asked, "What else can I do for you." I told her, "Everything you've got." She rubbed her hands together and started typing and dialing like a maniac. She set me up with, in addition to my Medicaid, dental, vision (I get free glasses), Veyo is a service that will reimburse me for all travel associated with my medical/behavioral health visits or even drive me back and forth if I need it. I told her that I was going to go down to Health & Human Services to straighten out my Food Stamp card that stopped working and said "contact card administrator". I was so depressed when that happened that I haven't gotten it fixed. She asked me, point blank, "Killienne, are you eating?" I confessed that I had been skipping days of eating and had lost 5.5 lbs in two weeks. I was fat anyway so I didn't mind. We just don't have the money for much in the way of food so...? What I didn't say was that a large part of my ot eating was depression.
She gave me a bunch of information on food banks. I hadn't considered the option because I come from a world where you trade money/credit for food. I could go somewhere and they would GIVE me food? I went to one food bank after we talked and it was a scrawny room with random food in it like crushed tomatoes in a can, tomato soup, turnips, apples, bread and such. I ended up with two reusable bags loosely containing food. But, I noticed she had highlighted a different bank in my town that would have hours the following day. So, I twisted Rod's arm and made him go with me because as a second participant that qualified we could get twice as much.
It turns out that the place was practically in the backyard of our neighborhood at a church on the hill. Evangelicals. We pulled out the two bags from the day before, now empty and ventured into the maze that was this massive HUGE Monstrous building. You could house a k-12 school in that place. And there was more of the building underground than above ground. So, by sheer luck, we ended up not at the funeral service being held and found our way into the sub-basement where they had the food bank. WTF!?
They took a bunch of info and I had to prove residency, then they assigned helpers to assist me in getting my rations (they regulate how much of what you get) and a grocery buggy. I had 4 people waiting on me hand and foot because they noticed I was kind of a cripple in the arms. We started with pasta and as we moved along not only did they fill the two bags so full you couldn't carry them as well as the one they gave me with their logo on it. When it overflowed at the meat locker, we ended up putting a box in the bottom of the cart and just kept filling. Now some of the stuff was "take all you like", including the pastry and bread tables that were covered in Gourmet Panera Bread.
Well, we made a mistake. Rod finished his paperwork first and they sent him on ahead so I didn't know what he picked out. So we doubled up on a LOT of stuff. Bread for days, so much stuff! At one point at the "take all you want" snack bin I kind of started to freak out because I was so overwhelmed. Where am I going to put all this stuff? Is our freezer big enough? OMG, this is so much food! I shouldn't take this! I can't eat it in a month! I don't deserve this!! I started to have an anxiety attack and almost ran out to get air. At one point. I picked one packet of fruit chews out of the snack bin and smiled, thinking "Oh, I am going to eat this for lunch." That is how much I eat. I guess the girls helping me saw a moment of happiness on my face and started grabbing NutterButters, Scooby Grahms, you name it by the handful and loaded up another couple bags that they had pulled out since we ran out of space. That was when I kinda started feeling seriously weird. So, they loaded us both up, pushed our carts to the car and took the carts back in with a nice wave and a free bible. A nice one. Hardback! A book is never a waste.
Rod and I sat in the car, filled with food, packed to the trunk lid and the whole back seat full. We had to take a minute as it sank in that Tal, waving as he took the cart back in said, "See you in two weeks!" We were both dazed and overwhelmed. I returned home and Char helped us unload. I realized we had way too much bread and no way to freeze it. So I packed up the lettuce I had bought too much of earlier in the week that I promised to Mom and one of the two bags of celery we had and a monstrous, perfect looking and very heavy loaf of sesame bread over to Mom. She agreed to let me use some of her freezer space if I couldn't fit it in mine. I even ended up taking 2 french loaves, a pack of chips and a big bag of everything bagels to my nifty neighbor. We chatted. He hasn't had a job (contractor type guy) in 3 months. I told him about the food bank and will take him with me next time.
I got home and realized I had friends or rather new acquaintances with whom I commiserate over being disabled who are struggling like I was struggling with hunger, depression over the situation and a lack of benefits. These are the people who trade a day's labor for rent and food and have no idea what is available to them. They are poorer than their similar counterparts who weren't "too privileged" to get welfare, SSI, food stamps, and Medicaid. They suffer, instead, because they think that is for someone else though they pay into the system that is there for them - someone without their "advantage." I had a friend tell me that there was no food in the house, the state messed up his welfare check and it would be two weeks until he had money and wouldn't make rent because of it.
I went back and forth with him and told him all the things that are there at his disposal. And no, you don't need a pass to go to a food bank. And he fought me with excuses not to take those benefits with nonsense about "I don't know how to get an appointment with H&HS." They take walk-ins. "I have to fix my Medicaid problem before I can do anything." No, you don't. I gave him a ration of shit about his excuses and told him there is no shame in reaching out when you are down especially when these food banks are anxious to help you. This is what gives them joy! Take your Medicaid, which you can get set up in person on a walk-in appointment and connect with your local behavioral health center. You will get help for depression. They will help you get your resume together and help you get placed in a job right for you. They are there to put you back together and make you strong, independent and nourished.
So, this is the Poorer White Man or Woman. Too proud and too unexposed to these things to know they have help and options. I was the Poorer White Woman until yesterday, I refuse to be her any more.