My husband suggested that we live under the Australian poverty line. The word ‘poverty’ doesn’t ring right to me since we have a house, cars, dogs, lots of electronic stuff (albeit outdated), and postgraduate education. People like us don’t live in poverty; we just struggle financially.
Bills and expenses are looming like a cumulonimbus cloud, and we now have a dangerous budget hole.
I’ve been paid for the training, driving and home work I did the last couple of weeks and got slightly more than expected because I’m under the Australian tax threshold (wow… I don’t think we have such a threshold in my home country… anyway, that is a pretty bad sign).
Most went straight into the mortgage account, and more will follow the bills, but right now I’ve got a bit of breathing room. I could fill my car with petrol without worries. It might even get an oil change. I could fill the fridge and stock up on dog food. I could keep my appointment with a specialist. I can buy woollen underwear and a blanket to combat the cold weather. I’ve gotten so used to the $0 situation that I wasn’t aware how stressful it was all the time. I didn’t realise that scarcity is like a relentless battle, and money is peace.