I was a single mom for two years when my daughter was a toddler. Things were easier then as I lived in my parents basement and worked part-time as a dancer to make ends meet. This time, I have two kids - my daughter, 10 and my son, 5. And I am pregnant.
I separated from my son's father in November 2009 after a year and a half of being chronically ill and depending on him for survival. There came a day when I chose poverty over unhappiness, and I asked him to leave. In his heart, he'd already left, so it was just a matter of details after that.
The details of my poverty.
I asked him to support me for three months until I could get settled on social assistance. It was my only option at the time as I was too ill to work. Doctors were unable to help me. They couldn't figure out why I was sick, so they told me I needed counseling. Some were rude about it. Some were gentle and encouraging. I knew that my illness was not mental and continued to look for solutions. The doctors and my husband gave up on me. They assumed I was crazy and tried to ignore me as much as possible.
Two weeks after our separation, I visited the last doctor I ever wanted to see in my life. Another doctor who treated me like a hysterical woman. I was done with doctors.
Two days after that I broke my foot and had to go to the hospital. I limped for two blocks with my worried five year old son by my side, in excruciating pain to a place I hated. I felt quite alone that day.
The day after I broke my foot, I went on an "allergen-free" diet. The diet was just a whim to "create an environment of healing" as I'd rationalized it in my head. I had no idea it would free me from my hell and make me well. I was gluten intolerant and hadn't even known it. Within four days, I experienced a miraculous recovery unlike anything I'd ever heard of or read about before.
Thrilled with my new health, I stopped pursuing social assistance and started looking for a job. I couldn't work with a broken foot, though, so I didn't actually start working until the beginning of February - three months after my separation. My husband supported the children and I, as promised until February 1st. Then switched to an agreed upon child support. I was now on my own.
And I was making it! I quickly started two straight jobs for non-profit organizations working with street-based sex workers with concurrent disorders (mental health and addiction). On Friday nights, I worked as a private show dancer at a local strip club. Altogether, between these three, I got on my feet.
One of the jobs was a graveyard shift and I quickly realized that this early in my recovery from gluten intolerance, I could not stomach graveyard shifts. So I regretfully resigned from that one. The other straight job seemed like a dream come true until, on my fifth shift, one of the residents of the transition house I was working in assaulted me.
It was sudden, unprovoked, and caught on camera. I went on worker's compensation for whiplash and took a few weeks off to recover. When my neck and back were better, I still did not feel safe to return to that particular program where the woman who assaulted me still lived. So I was trained at another house where much fewer shifts were available, and continued to work as an exotic dancer in a non-contact club near my home.
For four months, I got by. It was "barely" sometimes. And I depended on the charity of others along the way. Two gentlemen I met online gave me money totaling $800 with no strings attached at a particularly low time. We struggled, the kids and I. And I had moments of despair, but my options were open and I continued to look for work.
In April, my husband came to me saying that he felt we could possibly reconcile and would I not try counseling with him. I admit that I've always found him hard to resist. So I left behind the other men in my life that I was "getting to know" and focused my attention on my son's daddy. About two weeks later, after years of using condoms, we had an accident. My husband paid for the morning after pill, and I put the experience behind me.
A week later, I could not fit into my corset. I thought the morning after pill was making me bloated and took some time off from dancing. The box said it could delay my period by up to three weeks. Four weeks later, I realized I was pregnant. And although I didn't need to, I purchased a pregnancy test for confirmation. I was pregnant.
Meanwhile, my husband and I were attending counseling but it didn't seem to be helping. Now unable to work as a dancer because of my full, round tummy which stuck out very early, and receiving very few shifts at my straight job, I was at my lowest financially, struggling to feed my children and pay my rent.
I am writing this blog to share my experiences with others. I am an outrageous mom, but I'm also an outraged mom.
I am outraged at the lack of support available to mom's and children in British Columbia, Canada in the year 2010. I am outraged at the state of health care in our province. I am outraged at how impossible it is to feed and shelter your kids in this day and age. And I'm outraged by how we are treated when we turn to the only options available to us - often sex work or crime - while we try to care for our children.
I also think there are a lot of great programs and services out there that need mentioning. I hope my blog educates, interests, and otherwise haunts you. May the feminist force be with you. ;)
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