How times have changed

 Sometimes I sit back and think about how much the world has changed — and not always for the better.

When I was a little girl, things were just… different. I remember gas being 59 cents a gallon. Sometimes even 57. That sounds like a fantasy now, doesn’t it? These days, you’re lucky to find gas for under $3 — and that’s on a good day. It’s hard not to feel the sting of that when you’re living paycheck to paycheck.

Groceries were cheaper too. Back then, my mom didn’t work — she couldn’t. She was disabled, and the check she received was small. I think it was around $200 or $300 a month. But somehow, she stretched it to feed us. My adopted dad (my mom divorced him later) had to pay child support for me and my sisters — just $150 total for all three of us. It wasn’t much. But in the late '80s and early '90s, we made it work. Somehow, we always found a way.

Fast forward to today, and everything costs more — way more. My husband and I live in a house that was once a foreclosure. The company had bought it back, and we paid just $2,000 for it. I know, that sounds like a joke in today’s market. We did some work on it, made it livable, made it ours. Eventually, the value went up to around $50,000. By 2020, it was valued at $125,000. I was shocked. That number might look good on paper, but all I could think about was the increase in taxes and the pressure that came with it.

Thankfully, because my husband is disabled, we don’t have to pay property taxes right now here in Alabama. The house is in his name, and that gives us a little breathing room. But if anything were to happen to him — well, then it’s all on me. Every bit of it.

I work full-time at a school, and I don’t even think I make $30,000 a year. That’s the reality. So I work during the day, and then I Spark or DoorDash at night and on weekends just to keep us afloat. Just to make sure there’s food on the table and the lights stay on. And still, I struggle. Every month. Every week. Every day.

It’s exhausting.

Sometimes I wonder, when is it going to get better?
When will people like me — people who work hard, people who show up — finally get a break?
When will we stop having to sacrifice so much just to survive?

I’m not writing this for sympathy. I’m writing it because I know I’m not alone. I know there are countless others out there feeling the same squeeze, asking the same questions. Wondering when this endless uphill climb will finally level out.

I miss the days when life felt just a little bit easier. When the future didn’t feel so uncertain. I’m holding on — for my family, for myself, for the hope that maybe someday soon, we’ll all catch a break.

Until then, I’ll keep going. One day at a time.

~Billie-Jo