Money.

It's 3am. Right now I'm so hot, I'm contemplating shaving my head. It's also November 17th. (#firstworldfloridaproblems)

Speaking of first world problems, I'd like to do something I rarely do. (I don't think I've ever done, at least here) and take a second to respond to a blog posty a friend of mine wrote.

This friend of mine is probably one of the smartest, most hard working people I know. She's usually trucking around with two jobs and school, mostly art classes, which I am convinced after being connected with numerous art kids over the years, take way more work and dedication than more traditional non-creative classes. She's in an amazing relationship, lives on her own, is doing what she loves, has a great cuuute dog and apartment and a social life.

Oh, and she's generally broke off her ass.

And then there's me. I have a job, after months of searching. I make just above minimum wage with tips. I pay all of my bills myself, minus the phone bill, which I split with mom, because that's how family plans work, and rent. I don't pay my own rent. I hate this. However, my mother has offered to pay it, because there's no way I could honestly afford it on my own.

Pam wrote a blog about how...well, it's almost impossible to be financially thriving within our generation as twenty-somethings, either finishing up in school or graduated with a degree. We're *surviving*, but not thriving. and there are a lot of kids, like me, who cannot claim their full financial independence. Some of them, like me, dream of being able to do as such. and others...others don't mind the mooching off their parents.

This is something I wish I could understand.

I almost killed myself trying to make it on my own. Literally. Losing my job last year almost killed me, in that I wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, was working my ass off trying to afford just the bare minimum of bills and rent...and couldn't do it. I slept in my car, just to avoid trying to move back in with my grandparents. I sold some of my stuff to pawn shops and the like, trying to be able to come up with some sort of cushion. During all of this, my depression worsens (how could it not, given these circumstances?) and...well, I end up doing something stupid and going to the psych ward. Which was a pretty hard decision to make, one that I could barely make because of my fear of trying to pay for it.

I thank God every day for Beck and Garrett basically forcing me to go. In looking back, I'm glad I did. Because while it was an awful experience, I needed it. It was the tipping point, and I needed to own the fact that I could not do this on my own. I needed help, on a multitude of planes.

So, why rehash all of this shit that you already know, gentle reader? To prove a point.

I ACTUALLY MADE THE ATTEMPT TO BE FINANCIALLY INDEPENDENT.

Had it not been for IAG closing with such short notice and thus putting life into a pretty shitastic tailspin, I'd probably still be in my little apartment, on my own, struggling but making it back in the Lou.

These kids that are mooching off their parents, still, at my age...I cannot wrap my head around it. For the first time in my working life, I'm letting my mom help me financially in a semi-major way with my rent. This comes after years of lending her money, helping to pay her bills, even when she was states away, of going without to make sure that she was ok. In the divorce, she got rid of a giant financial burden: Bob. For the first time in her life, she is with a partner who understands what it means to LIVE WITHIN YOUR MEANS, and that oh-so-simple concept that the bills get paid, and then the fun happens with whatever is left.

For the first time in a long time, she can actually afford to help me financially, and for the first time in a long time, I can actually afford to *let* her help me financially.

However, I refuse to let this be a forever kind of thing. Because, while I am grateful, every day, that she *understands* me well enough to know that I need some sort of independence and that while I love her, living with her would only make me feel worse about myself and my situation, I also hate the fact that I am a financial burden. She understood how awful living with my grandparents all that time was, not because of the actual living situation (because they're great, despite the little tiffs we had, which happen) but because I felt like such a huge burden on them.

Why do so many people my age not have that? That burden feeling? Why do they feel entitled to have their parents take care of them, still, at my age and beyond?

Which brings me back to shaving my head due to the heat.

Right now, Paul's unemployed, still. It's been almost a year and a half of him trying to find a job in his field. His unemployment benefits are about to run out, so...we're cutting back on a lot. Including air conditioning, which, if you've ever been to Florida, you know is pretty effin important. Hence, why it's 85 degrees in here, and I can't sleep because I'm melting, and I'm sitting here, ranting about financial independence at 4am. But you know what?

I may be melting, but hell, at least I'm living within my means.