Author: Jolene

January is National Poverty Awareness Month in the United States. There is a great need to shed light on what true poverty looks like in our country and the lasting impact it has on children. These negative impacts stay with a child into adulthood and have a ripple effect on our communities. The unawareness many have is likely just a result of socioeconomic segregation and a lack of exposure to the problem, but I do fear most people believe someone else’s poverty is not their concern, though it impacts our entire country. The lasting impact of childhood poverty into adulthood is not something you can just get over and move on from as easy as some may believe. Also, it is important to remember children are at no fault of their circumstances. The goal of this post is to simply encourage others to be more aware of the prevalence of poverty in our communities and encourage others to be willing to help their fellow neighbors. Even a simple act of kindness to improve the lives of those struggling can have a transformative impact on a child and their family.

I want to share my experience with childhood poverty to depict what is really happening and how it has affected me throughout my life. As mentioned previously, some of the things I will discuss are hard for me to open up about. I have spent a lot of time learning how to grow from being embarrassed and ashamed, to accepting it is what made me a strong and resilient adult, though I still struggle with the negative effects on a daily basis.

My Experience:

As a child, I don’t remember a time when my family was comfortable and had all our needs met. My father, who our family always called Pappy, was never able to maintain a fulltime job due to lasting physical and psychological disabilities from his service as a marine in the Vietnam War. Due to this, my family relied on government assistance, but it was never enough to meet our basic needs and there was a cycle of reliance of government assistance that is hard to break free from. Pappy would attempt to work odd jobs within his abilities to supplement our income, but it never seemed to be enough.

I recall the places we lived in were not acceptable or safe living environments for anyone. For much of my childhood, we lived in a small rural town in Kentucky. We lived in the town’s trailer park, which was infamous for it’s poor living conditions. Eventually, we moved to the outskirts of the county to an even smaller town and to an even worse living situation. Both places were eventually condemned and torn down. When we lived in the trailer park, I was still too young to fully understand my family’s situation and that as I grew older, I became aware that we were different than most other families.

The house we lived in during my young adolescent years was a very old farmhouse that we rented from a local landowner. It was on a quiet, secluded road surrounded by farmland and barns. There was a tin roof-covered porch that always made the most relaxing noise on a light, rainy day. Unfortunately, those were the only positives of the house, as it should have been condemned when we lived there, and I am astonished children were ever allowed to live in the conditions we endured.

The floors of the house had settled right on the ground without a traditional foundation and there was always dirt coming up through the boards on the uneven floor. I remember if I walked around barefoot, the bottoms of my feet would be caked in mud, dirt, and sticky residue and I would have to walk carefully to prevent any splinters from the old, cracked boards.

Unreliable Access to Clean Water or Electricity:

The house didn’t have traditional public water, so we relied on an underground cistern that we would have to fill up via a delivery of water. This was very expensive, and we often couldn’t afford to get a water delivery. Pappy ended up routing the rainwater from the roof to the cistern via old, rusted gutters. To get the cistern to pump the water into the house, we relied on an electric pump which was useless when we didn’t have electricity because my parents couldn’t pay the bill. This unfortunately was more common than not. During these times, we would use a 5-gallon bucket on a piece of rope to haul the water from the cistern. It was very common to find dead bugs, mice, and debris in the water which we would use to bath with…cook with…brush our teeth..and drink.

The house didn’t have a furnace. The winters were always so very cold. Even if we did have electricity, the water pump and pipes would freeze because there was no insulation. If we had the money, we would rely on one sole kerosene heater in our living room for warmth. When the days were really cold, we would all sleep in the living room to be around our only heat source. If we had no electricity, or if the electric water pump was frozen, we would use our 5-gallon bucket to haul water up, warm it in a large soup pot on top of the kerosene heater, and take sponge baths standing in the old iron claw bathtub while watching the puffs of our frozen breath float through the cold bathroom air.

The roof and walls leaked; the worst leak was right above my bed. Pappy tried to repair the leaks with the resources we had, but eventually he covered the hole in the ceiling above my bed with a sheet of plastic which would catch the water. I often stared at the puddle of water collecting in the plastic above my head while I was falling asleep at night.

The Birth of Social Anxiety and Perseverance:

The house had few real windows. Most of the windows were covered with plastic that Pappy nailed up as a barrier to the outside. I never wanted my friends to drop me off right in front of my house; I would often tell them to drop me off at the start of our road, which was also my school bus stop, and I would walk the rest of the way. I never had any friends over because I was so embarrassed. One time, a friend’s parent insisted on taking me the full way home. The next day on the school bus, I was bullied and made fun of living in a house with plastic as windows. I’ve never forgotten the feeling of shame, embarrassment, and anger for being different in that moment. This was the start of a distinct shift in how my school peers treated me and when I really remember starting to withdrawal from social situations and experiencing social anxiety. It is also when I started really focusing on my academics and planning to change my future. I would spend so much time studying. When the electricity was shut off, I would study at the kitchen table with a lit candle or a flashlight until the batteries would die. Any effort I could put in, I just knew it would eventually pay off.

The house was also filthy. I don’t think my parents ever wanted to live this way, but once a person is so beaten down by life and nothing ever worked out for the better, all motivation and effort slips away. I often wonder how things may have been different if they would of had people around helping to encourage and motivate them to continue pushing forward. Unfortunately, many of their acquaintances were also in very similar situations and were stuck in a continuous cycle of struggle.

There was a bug infestation that haunts me to this day. I can still hear the hurried scattering of hundreds of roaches running to hide when the light to a room would flip on at night. I would find roaches in my bookbag at school and be so worried someone would see it. I would wake up frequently with bugs crawling on me at night. The distinct smell of kerosene heater fumes, bug feces, and musty mold permeated my clothes… and my memories to this day.

This was the start of my borderline OCD tendencies around a clean home as an adult. If my environment is messy and organized, my anxiety worsens. If my environment is clean and tidy, I am calm and relaxed.

Transportation was always an issue. We lived a 45-minute drive to the closest grocery store. This was always an issue as we often had no transportation. Even when we had the resources to get groceries when the food stamps would come in at the start of the month, we often had a hard time getting to the store. A lack of transportation also created a barrier to quality healthcare or the ability to participate in any school events. An important point often lost, is that one needs transportation to get to any food pantries or organizations that are willing to help families in need.

Food Insecurity:

The most impactful experience, far beyond any of the above-mentioned issues, was that of hunger and food insecurity. I cannot express the impact of the feeling of hunger, after days of not eating, has on a person. No child should ever have to experience anxiety over where their next meal is going to come from. The only guaranteed meal I ever had was the free meal program at school. It cannot be understated how important and valuable these programs are and how important it is these programs remain a part of schools.

• You cannot learn on a Monday morning when your last meal was school lunch on the previous Friday.
• You cannot learn when the feeling of hunger is all you can focus on.
• You cannot participate and socialize in school activities when you have a headache and fatigue from malnutrition.

These days, schools are starting to provide meals during extended breaks, which is an amazingly wonderful thing that should be continued and protected at all costs for the benefit of children facing food insecurity.

I vividly remember times when all we would have at home in our pantry were seasonings and flour. I remember Pappy would make gravy out of flour and water and we sipped on it like a soup to have something in our stomachs. Pappy would try his best and you could see the pain in his eyes when he could not provide for his family. He would do everything in his abilities, and this included the most painful and embarrassing memories of my childhood.

The Sign:

During times when we struggled the most, my father would stand at the side of a road holding a sign asking for donations to feed his wife and three children. This would happen right near our house and all our friends and neighbors would be witness to our struggles. I would beg Pappy not to go hold the sign because I was so embarrassed and ashamed. I would get so angry. I would get made fun of. I would have moments where I thought I hated Pappy for doing this. At that time, I couldn’t see or understand how my father would set aside his pride and do everything in his power to obtain food for his children…

Please check back soon for part 2 on how poverty has impacted my life.

Please comment below and share your own experiences of tough times and how you persevered.

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