We Have $24.10 Left

Matt and I got paid on the 8th.

We sat down and did what responsible adults are supposed to do. We paid all the bills that were due. We paid off some debt. We put gas in both vehicles. We went grocery shopping.

You know… all the exciting grown-up things nobody dreams about when they’re a kid.

And after doing all of that, we now have a whopping $24.10 to last until our next paychecks on the 22nd.

Twenty-four dollars and ten cents.

For two people who spend most of their waking hours at work.

I’m sorry, but there is something fundamentally wrong with that.

I don’t know exactly what has to change in this world, but something does.

Because somewhere along the way, “working hard” stopped meaning you could actually get ahead. Now it feels like working hard just means you get the privilege of barely keeping your head above water.

We aren’t living some extravagant lifestyle. We aren’t taking luxury vacations every month. We aren’t buying fancy cars or spending money like it grows on trees.

We’re paying bills.

Buying some groceries.

Putting gas in the tank.

Trying to pay off debt.

Trying to be responsible.

Trying to do all the things we’re told adults are supposed to do.

And somehow, after all that, we’re left counting dollars and cents until payday.

The part that gets me isn’t even the money itself.

It’s the feeling.

The feeling that life is passing by while we’re busy surviving it.

Wake up.

Go to work.

Come home exhausted.

Go to sleep.

Repeat.

Week after week.

Month after month.

Year after year.

I feel like I’m missing out on life just to keep the lights on and food on the table.

And honestly?

I’m tired.

Not just physically tired.

Soul tired.

The kind of tired that comes from constantly carrying responsibilities and never quite getting a chance to breathe.

The kind of tired that comes from doing everything right and still wondering why it feels so hard.

I know we’re not alone in this. I know there are countless families doing the exact same thing right now—working their tails off and wondering where the paycheck disappeared to.

That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Today, I’m grateful that our bills are paid. I’m grateful we have food in the house. I’m grateful we chipped away at debt.

But I’m also sad.

Because life should be more than surviving from paycheck to paycheck.

Life should include living, too.

And let’s talk about that grocery shopping trip for a minute.

We didn’t even buy everything we needed.

Not wanted.

Needed.

There were things that got put back on the shelf because the total was climbing too fast. Things that made the list but didn’t make it into the cart. Things that we’ll just “make do without” until the next paycheck.

That’s the part that really stings.

When two adults are working their lives away and still have to stand in a grocery store doing mental gymnastics over whether they can afford shampoo, paper towels, laundry detergent, or ingredients for a few extra meals.

When you find yourself saying, “We’ll get that next time,” knowing full well that next time there will be another bill, another expense, another reason it has to wait.

I don’t know when buying the basics became a luxury, but here we are.

Working hard should mean being able to buy the things your household needs without feeling your stomach drop every time you look at the total on the register.

And then there’s the thing that breaks my heart the most.

My daughter is going to be a senior.

A SENIOR.

How did that even happen?

I swear she was just starting kindergarten five minutes ago, and now we’re talking about graduation, college, and the next chapter of her life.

And all I want is to take my family on a vacation before she graduates.

Just once.

Nothing extravagant. Nothing Instagram-worthy. I don’t need a luxury resort or a private beach. I just want us to make some memories together before she’s grown and gone.

I want a family trip where we’re not worried about work schedules, bills, deadlines, or who’s picking up an extra shift.

I want a few days where we can just be a family.

But somehow that feels like a ridiculous dream.

When did a simple family vacation become something only the financially elite can afford?

At this point, I’m starting to evaluate my options.

Should I start selling drugs?

Feet pics?

Perhaps there’s a lucrative market for exhausted middle-aged women who can tell you exactly which grocery items are cheapest per ounce while simultaneously having a mental breakdown in the cereal aisle.

I’m kidding.

Mostly.

But the fact that the joke doesn’t seem completely absurd anymore is probably part of the problem.

I don’t want luxury.

I don’t want riches.

I just want enough breathing room to make memories with my kid before she’s off building a life of her own.

At the end of the day, I’m not asking for a million dollars.

I’m not asking for a mansion.

I’m not asking for luxury cars, designer handbags, or a vacation home on the beach.

I don’t need to be rich.

I just want to be able to breathe.

I want to take a day off without calculating what bill is going to be late because of it.

I want to go on a family vacation before my daughter graduates without wondering if we’ll be eating ramen noodles for the next three months to recover financially.

I want to buy all of the groceries on my list instead of deciding which necessities can wait until next payday.

I want to be sick without worrying about missing work.

I want to rest without feeling guilty.

I want to live without constantly feeling one unexpected expense away from disaster.

Because that’s the part nobody talks about.

It’s not that we’re chasing wealth.

We’re chasing security.

We’re chasing the ability to enjoy a moment without mentally calculating the cost of it.

We’re chasing a life where taking a day off doesn’t threaten the roof over our heads.

A life where making memories with our family isn’t considered a luxury.

A life where working hard actually allows you to live.

Maybe that’s asking for too much in today’s world.

But I don’t think it should be.

I think that’s what all this hard work was supposed to buy us in the first place