The most embarrassing thing poverty taught me is how to act normal when I can’t afford to participate
I had a coworker ask me today why I’m “so hard to make plans with,” and it stuck in my head all the way home. I’m not trying to be mysterious or antisocial. I just don’t know how to say, “I can’t do anything that costs money, and I’m tired of explaining it in a way that makes the room go quiet.”
People think hanging out can be free, and sometimes it can, but a lot of “free” plans still have hidden costs. Getting there costs bus fare. Staying out means I might need to buy food because I planned my meals too tightly. Going for a walk turns into grabbing coffee. Watching a movie at someone’s place turns into “let’s order something.” Even sitting at a bar and drinking water feels like I’m taking up space I didn’t earn. So I’ve gotten good at being vague. “Maybe next time.” “I’m wiped.” “I already have something.” Half the time the something is laundry in the sink and rice waiting at home.
The worst part is that I don’t think my friends are bad people. They’re not pressuring me on purpose. They just live in a world where a casual ten or fifteen dollars is background noise, and for me it is the difference between getting through the week smoothly or doing math with my pantry. I miss feeling easy to be around. I miss saying yes without running a tiny crisis meeting in my head first.
I’m not asking for handouts or anything. I just needed to put this somewhere people might get it. Being broke doesn’t only limit what you can buy. It slowly edits your personality untill you look flaky, distant, or boring when really you’re just trying not to overdraft over nachos.