$50 is how much it cost to get our marriage license 10 years ago. The license that held the legality to all my hopes and dreams. The paper that went along with the promises that we would love each other, support each other and see each other through the hard times. $50 to start the journey of having a home, a family and a bright financial future with someone always by my side. It would cost much more than $50 to get divorce but that is a whole other story.
$50 was the co-pay when I took my daughter to be evaluated by a developmental pediatrician. I knew that she was not progressing as she should and this was the first step to get answers and the help that she needed. When the diagnosis of Autism was given I was not shocked but I was shook. At the time I had no idea how that would shape our lives. The struggles she and I would endure in finding ways for her to cope with sensory issues, social issues, behavioral issues, sleep problems. The triumphs we would celebrate in her learning how to speak in full sentences, being invited to a Birthday party for the first time, moving into a higher level class, eating new foods, and making lasting relationships with family. It was a $50 well spent but a life changing $50 for sure.
After my divorce, $50 was how much it cost to fill my tank with gas and embark on our adventure moving from the Bay Area which I had called home all my life, to a little suburban town right outside of Sacramento. This town held promises of a better life. A family friendly town with low crime and high spirits. Little did I know at the time that in my new city “family” meant more than just one parent and a child and it would cost a small fortune to even have an apartment on one income. Sometimes I wish I could get that $50 back.
$50 is the average amount people ask for from me on a semi-regular basis. Grown men who only have to care for themselves (one of which doesn’t even work but has mommy pay all his bills) will come to me, a single mom, and ask for money. Money for them to get cigarettes, money for them to go to a bar etc. I don’t give them money anymore, instead they get a lecture and the offer that I will take the $50 they need and put it in a fund to save for their early funeral because their lifestyles are so unhealthy! Of course I don’t actually do that because they aren’t worth my $50!
$50 is how short I came up on an application for an apartment for my daughter and I. I make a decent income compared to others in the area, I get a little bit of child support from my daughters paternal grandmother and some additional money for her having Autism. Do we struggle every month? Absolutely. I have to think extra hard and plan where every dollar goes. But we have never gone hungry, and I have never missed or been late with a rent payment. So I applied for this apartment and show all of my income and I am $50 short of making 2.5 times the rent. I offered to go without Starbucks to save $50 a month but the leasing agent didn’t see my humor. I reached out to several city, county and state level council members and not one could offer me any advice. I could go on a political rant here about how other people who are less hard working get more from the Government but I will leave that alone. $50! $50 means they would rather my daughter and I be on the street! $50 means they can tell me that I don’t qualify to live there and give me an attitude that I am not good enough. This is the most frustrating $50 out of them all.
I really never gave much thought to an amount of money under a thousand dollars possibly changing your life. I am now here to tell you that just $50 can make all the difference in the world!