…there are moments in everyone's life where we say exactly what we mean, with complete and utter clarity.
I feel I was fortunate enough to have one of those moments the other day, when the subject came up at work about how it's even possible to carry on…to continue 'hustling', with two jobs, working 50+ hour weeks…while managing a family, and somehow look toward the future.
I responded,
“…there's nothing we can do. I think that's clear. There's just…keep calm, carry on, and try not to look at the bars of the cage too hard.”
I got slack-jawed shock from my colleagues, one of them just kind of breathed my name in judgemental disbelief. …I guess these are things we don't say in public, oops.
…I guess the way I see it, a lot of…this… (let me just wave my hand vaguely around me, kind of like I'm gesturing at the whole world) …it's not something we can do anything about. Most of us — all of us, it feels like — are just waiting, day by day, hoping that one day, bit-by-bit, we'll be able to reach 'financial stability', whatever that even fucking means anymore.
My partner is a teacher, he makes about 3 grand a month, just over. But all that means is that he can afford a car and (after 10 years of saving) was finally able to afford the downpayment a mortgage. Now? He's in the exact same situation I am. He has equity in property, sure, he has a vehicle, sure. Does he make enough after mortgage and insurance and gas to put anything to the side? Nope.
Because the 'Cage of Capitalism' (Trademarked, as of now, don't you dare even think about it Quora) exists at all levels.
It's been said before, and it always bears saying again. We who are living under wage slavery are kept just poor enough that it's impossible for us to get ahead in any way, shape, or form, but also just wealthy enough that we can afford stupid comfort luxuries like manicures every now and again.
Oh, and we need those comfort luxuries, because without them, the bars of the cage are way too obvious.
I don't wonder in the slightest why addiction and credit card debt are two of the largest problems of my generation. We need something, anything, to block out the sight of the bars of our prison. You know what it feels like to me right now? It feels like about half of us come home after work and get blasted on wine or weed or worse, just so that we don't have to think about all of this for another day. Half of those that remain, it feels like, probably don't have a job to come home from. And half of those probably don't have a home to return to.
It's fucked.
…and what's even more fucked, is that sometimes I forget about it.
I got sent home from one of my three jobs today, because I had a fever, and they were worried it might be COVID. So I lost hours, had to go home, had to get a test.
But you know what? As I was walking home, the birds were singing, the sun was shining, and for that one solitary moment, the bars of the Cage of Capitalism seemed distant, blurry, and easy to ignore.
…and I'm not sure I like how easy it is to forget they are there.
———–EDIT:—————————————————————————
…for a bit of context. My saying this came after having two particularly fun conversations.
First,
I mentioned offhandedly to my mother that I had gotten to one of my jobs to find they had scheduled me for 40 hours. I'm already scheduled 24 hours at my other job, and I'm teaching about 8 hours this week at a third company. I was relaying to Mother how I had explained to the manager that that's not humanly possible, when she cut across me and said “Of course it is!” And before I could open my mouth, my stepfather calls from down the hall, “Yeah, sure. When we were your age, we were both working 60 hour weeks, no problem. And we were totally fine.” Then Mother instantly agreed with him, and went on to say “Now's the time to do it, while you're young, you know.”
…they both know I've got planter fasciitis in both feet, clinical depression and anxiety, and that I'm already working two jobs – and teaching – to make ends meet. And somehow their brain-dead solution is 'Yeah, why don't you just give up what little time you have for yourself and your partner and work yourself to death? That's obviously what you should do, I mean duh.' I just…I can't with the “Just pull your boot-straps up a little bit higher” mentality. I had been planning on asking my parents for some money to help dig me out of the credit card debt that I accrued in between jobs. But after that conversation, somehow, I couldn't quite get the question out. Wonder why.
Hell, the last time I hinted that I was in debt, all I got from my mother was a confused-sounding “Why?” I just looked at her kind of flabbergasted…a bunch of different thoughts fought for control of my mouth, and what made it out was “…I dunno…life?” So. We won't be having that conversation any time soon. I'm…cross-motivated about it, I guess you could say. So I can't go anywhere on it. Plus, in this case, it really does feel like her support is conditional upon my being independant economically.
…It reminds me of something Mark Reese once wrote about Feldenkraisian thinking on the subject of upbringing and interdependancy:
“Cross motivation” is the name Feldenkrais gives to the inner conflicts between our social motivations and our personal desires. Feldenkrais traces this problem to the dependencies of childhood. We learn as children to block our innermost feelings and impulses in order to maintain the security and approval our parents conditionally offer:
“The need for security is directly related to dependence. It is not surprising, therefore, to find dependence and craving for independence in the background of all human activity.”
…and second…
I manage a theatre company, that's one of the two jobs. We started a theatre collective. I've now had my third consecutive idea shot down, this idea would have taken all of 5 minutes to try out, but I can't try it out by myself. But, once again, we spent an hour stomping around a country hillside in the freezing cold trying out the other guy's idea, instead. In a project where there isn't supposed to be a director, and everybody is supposed to be on equal footing.
And the consensus, it seems, is that I 'just need to prove myself' to said other-guy, by showing him some really great work. …but I'm just as experienced, and acclaimed, as anybody else in the group. I've toured work internationally, I've worked with big festivals in big cities, I've owned a theatre collective, I've led in professional local shows that have been great money-makers. And
I'm just tired of, after 20-odd years in this, having to prove myself again. What do I have to fucking do to get some respect?
I'm so exhausted.