Every day I wake up and find myself repeating the same stupid phrase to myself, “At least we’re not homeless.” It is a mantra that I use to pretend that I feel ok about our situation. It is one those stupid mind tricks that people use to try and convince themselves that the situation really isn’t that bad. It is no different from saying “things could always be worse.”
Well, I hate that fucking line. Stop telling me that things could always be worse. Sure they could. I could have a terminal disease. I could be injured in some sort of industrial accident and be paid the grand sum of $10,000 for the loss of an eye. Or I could be eaten by a wild animal.
Sure, things could be worse, but that doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t remove the sting of the current pain. It doesn’t make me feel any less worse. It doesn’t help to tell me that my situation isn’t my fault. I know that it is not really my fault. I know that I am not really responsible for my predicament.
But the thing is that no one is going to rescue me. The government isn’t going to bail me out. I don’t have any reason to expect that I am going to win the lottery, find the golden goose or magic beans. Sometimes shit happens and you laugh about it and sometimes you find that shit gets poured down your back. I don’t know about you, but I don’t find that be particularly funny.
What I do know is that even though I may not be responsible for my situation I am the only one who can get me out of it. And at the moment I haven’t got a clue as to how long it is going to take and truthfully little hope that things will not get worse.
So I stand here before you doing what I have been taught to do, be responsible, be accountable and take it like a man. And I keep repeating my little line, “at least we’re not homeless” but what no one hears me say are the two words I never mention out loud, “not yet.”