I used to have a house. I used to go on vacations. I used to shop at department stores, get my hair done and even enjoy pedicures. Now, I don't. I'm a member of the American "Used-to-Haves."
Now, I'm renting an apartment and I'm desperately awaiting a check so I can pay the rent. Yet, I'm lucky to have an apartment that includes utilities. Despite my college degree from a prestigious college, and solid employment track record, I can't get a job. It's been so long since my corporate days, I now feel unemployable.
My age doesn't help. But I'm as healthy as a thoroughbred, I appear quite young and would gladly accept a basic salary. I'm a bargain! But no. I'm freelancing for $15 an hour these days, but I used to earn $100 an hour. In fact, all the freelance hourly rates have been driven down to $15-30 an hour. To make ends meet, I also work as an aide ($13.75 an hour) and run a small local company. And my annual earnings are under $20,000.
I'm lucky to be in Massachusetts, where my health care is paid for, and fortunate to be of sound health and mind. But on days when I feel hopeless, I can envision myself 20 years from now, living in hardscrabble poverty. Female friends my age who are in similar financial circumstances are terrified of the future. If we can't get decent paying jobs today, there's little hope of getting a corporate job with benefits in the future. And during the past few years as we've struggled, we went through all of our savings, 401(k)s and anything left in the bottoms of our pocketbooks. So we can see ourselves as old, pathetic bent-over women, living in bus shelters, our ragged belongings in supermarket carts.
For the "Used-to-Haves," every day is a struggle to hold onto hope. Everywhere we look is a reminder of what we used to have.