#in the time ive been seeing him ive had easily a dozen other social workers clinicians case workers and speciality therapists. ive been to

[pansyfemme]

just a heads up that enmeshment with your therapist is a sign that you need a different therapist. you go to these people to offload and heal, but if you're emotionally enmeshed and that's keeping you from bringing topics forward, that is no longer a healthy relationship nor a therapist that should be treating you.

just so you're aware. your therapist should not be an uncle figure you're afraid to talk about embarrassing stuff with, he's an impartial audience to help you heal. that emotional connection is now HINDERING you from healing.

honestly! me making one personal post! does not tell you the full story! while i defintly have an emotional connection with him- i have had other therapists in my life in and out the entire time. i seek help from other sources frequently! i said it was like talking to an uncle simply because of the fact he’s known me since i was a child, which makes talking about adult topics at times a little embarrasing because he knew me when i was 11!! he is not like an uncle to me in an other respect, i have a seperation. and i have openly discussed this with him and why im uncomfortable at times!! but we talk it out!! because its my therapist and me making one post doesnt mean you know everything!! geez!! also ive been embarrassed to talk about sex with every other therapist ive had!! not your call to make!!

[imericwat-blog]

(Cal)Fresh on the Dole (Part 1)

              I'm going to talk about something that every struggling writer has to consider almost on a daily basis, though it has nothing to do with what they're writing: money. Figuring out how to make ends meet could be a more solitary endeavor than writing. You can talk with your colleagues about the craft of writing and the mystery of publishing, but we're less willing to tell others how much we have (or don't have).

              As my sabbatical approached last year, I began to take a look at my budget more closely. I had been fortunate enough with a good job in the past dozen years that I didn't have to watch how I spent my money carefully. I was not raised to be a big spender, and I was making more than enough that I was able to save quite a bit even without trying. In going over my budget moving forward, there were still a few notches I could tighten on my belt. For instance, it was time to join the new century and cut the cord; besides, TV would be a time-sucker for me. I joined my parents' cell phone family plan and readjusted my auto insurance (since I wouldn't be driving as much).

              My biggest expense is my mortgage. That and the annual property tax translate to about $2,300 out the door every month. Next up is insurance - auto, health, life. Because I worked the three months in 2016 before I became unemployed, I made just enough income for the year to make me ineligible for the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare) subsidies in the remaining nine months. Combined, the various insurances are another $500 of monthly expense, in this case, for things that I hope I would never use. (Seriously, the insurance industry is basically legalized mafia.) Add in the utilities - gas, water, electricity, Internet - I've figured I need at least $35,000 a year just for existing.

              Ironically, the one thing that I knew would be the least impactful on my budget is the one line item that our government uses to determine poverty: food.[i]

              For most of the working poor, food is where they skim, and the main strategy of skimming is buying fast food or processed food. I need to skim, too, but I have more time to cook my own meals than before. I eat out less. Not only is it cheaper than fast food, it is also healthier and more pleasurable. The cost of sitting down for a dinner even at a casual restaurant - by the time you add the tax and gratuity - could easily be more than a week of grocery, even if I invest in the more expensive organic food.

              If I bought a $15 organic free-range chicken, I could easily make five or six meals out of it: I'd poach the breasts to make chicken salad, save the wings, legs and thighs for a stew or curry, and simmer the bones and everything else for chicken soup that I could either eat on its own with a lot of vegetables or use as a base for soup noodles. Chicken three-way.

              But eating is not only for sustenance; it's also a social activity. This is where it could get tricky. I'm trying to pinch pennies at a time when most of my friends are making more money than ever. Rightfully, they want to experience new leisure activities that they can now afford: fancier restaurants, wine tasting, weekend getaways, movies at Arclight with those assigned recliners rather than the dingy chairs with sticky floor at our neighborhood matinee.

              When it comes to eating out in a group, many of my friends are not good at making group decisions (or at least not as quick). I sometimes seize this opportunity to suggest a restaurant that's moderately priced. But I stay out of these conversations when it's a special occasion, like birthdays. These are the people who love and support me, and I'm not going to be that asshole to advice his friends to change the venue for their birthday dinner. Not going is not an option either. So I suck it up and build that into my budget.

              Once in a while, though, if someone wants to get together, instead of going out, I offer to make dinner for them. Cooking for three or even four people could be cheaper than paying for my own in a restaurant. Besides, we could catch up as long as we'd like without worrying whether we're occupying a table for too long.[ii] Some friends are good with returning the favor, so my hospitality nets me a free meal.

              My boyfriend David insists on paying whenever we go to a restaurant. Because I couldn't tolerate a lopsided relationship, I would insist on treating him once in a while. Even if the reciprocity takes place at a cheaper restaurant, the food is comparably good. I prefer to trade in tastes, and not in prices. Neither one of us is a huge fan of fine-dining and we both prefer food with more spices and depth. We don't pay for the ambience even on special occasions and are comfortable with any hole-in-the-wall. So ours is usually a cheap date. Mostly I would just cook for him, too.

              The beginning of 2017 marked the start of the last quarter of my sabbatical. I re-evaluated my budget to see if I could stretch it until the end of summer or later. I've taken on a small teaching load at a local college. Being an adjunct at a Cal State doesn't pay much, but it does cover my various insurances and utilities as well as an occasional movie, concert or baseball game. I had a couple of short-term gigs, which made me feel like a millennial. Having an extra paycheck once in a while reacquainted me with that feeling I had as a teenager toiling at a fast food restaurant when I held a check in my hand and knew exactly what this money was going to be used for. It's an odd sense of pride of just surviving that I've taken for granted most of my comfortable adult life.

              Still it is no fun watching my savings dwindle faster than a water table in a California drought. Money is still leaving the door quicker than coming in. While I've been blessed to be underemployed without losing sleep for the past nine months, I want to make sure I can continue to sleep well and not worry about anything besides character development and finding an agent.

              In January, I decided to apply for CalFresh (more commonly known by its outdated misnomer, "food stamps"). I don't know why I hadn't thought of this before. I've done enough community education and research about public benefits in my past jobs to know that I'd qualify for CalFresh.[iii] I also clocked enough field time trying to convince people in immigrant communities that there is no stigma in getting help from the government when you need it. So I wasn't ashamed to consider it for myself.

              While I didn't bring it up in every conversation, I had no qualms about letting people know I was applying for food stamps. There has been so much news about adjunct professors being the overeducated underclass.[iv] Apparently, adjunct faculty and Wal-Mart workers have one thing in common: we work our ass off but still need to turn to the government to make ends meet.

              My parents had divergent reactions to the news of their son seeking government help. My mom had been a nurse at a convalescent home and knew a lot of the in-and-outs of public assistance, at least for older adults. She is still called upon by aunts and uncles to accompany them to DPSS whenever something happens to their benefits. I think she appreciated my resourcefulness. My dad had a much different sense of the government's role. He's one of those people who don't understand how the middle and upper classes benefit from the government even though we don't call these benefits "public assistance." He asked whether it was time for me to find a job. To this, I replied, "I already have a job. In fact, I have multiple jobs. None of them pays enough." I also added that I'm only applying for what I'm eligible for. I didn't lie or exaggerate my needs on my application.

              To be fair, I'm not what most people think a CalFresh recipient looks like, and they're not off base. According to the California Department of Social Service website, the profile of a CalFresh household in 2014 was one with an average of 2.2 persons, with the average age of the head of household just under 40. Over two-thirds of these households were female-headed. Forty percent of all heads of households were Hispanic, and 30% white. If you include the children, it was 55% Hispanic and 20% white, indicating that Hispanic CalFresh recipients tended to be households with children. About one-third did not complete their high school education. And don't bag on undocumented or yet-to-be-naturalized immigrants: Over 93% of CalFresh recipients were citizens.[v]

              So I could see how a single gay Asian man in his mid-forties with a Master's degree could be construed as a unicorn in the system. On the other hand, that Master's degree I have is in American studies.

              The average CalFresh allotment was $304 per household. I don't think I would get even half of that since I don't have any dependents. But even $100 could mean I could loosen a notch a little on my budget belt. So, gathering all my meager paystubs and bills, I started my CalFresh application.

 To be continued...(Cal)Fresh on the Dole (Part 2): Adventures in the DPSS Office

[i] The formula for poverty rate was determined in the 1960s when food cost was about one-third of a household budget. Since the 1970s, our government and industries pushed food cost down amidst public outrage over inflation, but did so at the expense of consumer health. To this day, poverty rate - or how much it takes to have your basic needs met - is underestimated in this country because food cost is disproportionately emphasized.

[ii] Some restaurants - especially those relying on turnovers - start to lose money when you stay there too long. Servers definitely lose income because they rely on tips. Take it from a (former) waiter.

[iii] Even though you apply for CalFresh at the Department of Public and Social Services in LA or other "welfare departments" in other counties, the funding from CalFresh comes from the Department of Agriculture and it's meant to improve access to nutrition. It only considers income, and not assets, in determining eligibility, so homeowners like me could qualify. They don't want people to skim on food and become food-insecure because they have to devote most of their resources to other basic needs, like housing. CalFresh is not considered "cash aid" and people receiving them are not "public charge."

[iv] Coverage of adjunct professors being on the dole rose specially since 2014-15, when they began to organize for better pay and job stability. Just Google "adjunct professor public assistance" or "adjunct faculty poverty."

[v] http://www.calfresh.ca.gov/PG844.htm