@Jill - wow, thank you for pointing out that one comment to me. I didn't see that, and it completely epitomizes my life now. I was just telling my husband last night that I don't know how much it will take before I realize I'm not that little homeless girl anymore.

Oh, wow. So now I'm crying. Thanks so much for posting this. You know, I know we didn't have money growing up, and some of those things really did ring true for me, but at the same time, some were so much worse than I ever experienced. I'm sad for those who did. I think my family owed a lot to the military when I was growing up. We may have not had much money, but at least there was always healthcare and schools and safe shelter on base.

And this, from a commenter
"Growing up poor is spending the rest of your life trying to escape (and never realizing that you have)."
Made me cry.

I busted my ass through college. I graduated early. I worked 30 hours a week while taking 18 hours a semester. I didn't go to college to join a sorority or have fun. I went so I could get the hell out, get a job, and make $$. Sometimes I look around at how far my husband (who also grew up without much) and I have come since we met nearly 9 years ago. I have to remind myself that we are living the damn American Dream. We have two highly functional vehicles, a single family home, and more than we ever filled our first one bedroom apartment in Chicago with 7 years ago, back when we used to take our change to the Coinstar machine and hope it would be enough to buy bread and cheese for sandwiches. Because even now I still get the dreadful feeling that it will never be enough. That we haven't made it yet.
.-= Jill @BabyRabies´s last blog ..How I gave birth to my second marathon =-.

adding to the list:

Being poor is having to walk 8 miles home from schoolat 10, because you didn't have enough money to take the bus (because you used it to buy food, since you hadn't eaten in a couple days)

Being poor is tryin to drink the baby formula paid for by WIC because there wasn't anything else in the house

Being poor is knowing where the church food lines are

being poor is wearing a stolen Halloween costume from KMart because your mom felt bad you didn't have anything

Being poor is when your mom sends you off to live somewhere else because she can't afford to feed and clothe you. (mine actually ran away for a fiew weeks in hoped someone would recue me, nobody came)

being poor is hoping you get hit by a car on the way home from school, at least then you'll get food and a bed for a couple days, and if you don't live, mom has one less person to care about (logical to a little kid).

I did escape. Barely, but I did. What makes me really angry though, is much of my family still lives that way, but by choice. They CAN do something to change it but they don't because its harder. I also never grew out of many 'poor person habits'. I wear my clothes until they fall apart, then feel guilty when I have to buy more. I'll buy the $2 dollar jacket thats WAYYYY to big from the thrift store, instead of the $4 jacket that fits, etc.

Thanks you guys. Seriously.

I agree with Heather; you did just fine.

I also can relate to that list... brings back many not so nice memories, and reminds me just how hard I will try to keep my kids from ever living through that shit.

Well said...but I thought you did just fine in the first place.

Or childhood experiences with poverty were not the same, but there were so many things on that list that I could identify with. So many things that reminded me of growing up. I was lucky. While we lived in a two bedroom subsidized apartment (there were 4 children by the time we moved out of it) with a thin carpet laid over a concrete floor, my mother was full of life and love and made things fun. She sheltered us from so much.

I remember sleeping in a closet or the bathtub for months because my mothers best friend had left her abusive husband and was staying with us. She had 4 kids too. I was maybe 10 at the time. Just starting to need a space of my own which was impossible to get with 10 people in a 2 bedroom.

I remember frying rice crispies in butter to have a warm meal. Or eating jam with saltines for dinner.

When I was 12, my mother went back to school, leaving me in charge of three small children at night. It was necessary. My father (all of our father, 4 kids, same deadbeat dad) was an alcoholic who didn't live with us.

She got a degree. Eventually, my father went sober. We all have a better life now. I have good relationships with both my parents.

I know that i am very very lucky. We all made it out.

Oh, and I have lily-white skin and a Mexican last name. It has, in fact, caused me problems in the past.

I understand, Thank you for sharing your experience and sharing John Scalzi's post.