I’m 32, a mom to two young kids, and I feel completely stuck.
I work as a dog groomer in an Ohio town and bring in just under $23,000 a year. We get by thanks to government assistance — SNAP, Medicaid, and a housing voucher. I know some people look down on that, but I honestly don’t know what I’d do without it. It’s the only reason I can afford rent and groceries right now.
Lately, I’ve been told that I should try to earn more or find a better job — but if I do that, I lose the help. And the truth is, the extra money wouldn’t come close to replacing what we’d be losing. Just the jump in rent alone would put me underwater. It doesn’t feel like a step forward. It feels like a trap.
I’m not trying to build some big life. I’m not aiming to run my own business or chase some big dream. I just want to make sure my kids have a roof over their heads and food on the table. That’s it. I’m exhausted all the time, and the idea of taking on another job — just to end up in a worse spot financially — makes me feel even more defeated.
I guess I’m writing because I feel like people don’t understand this. I don’t want to stay on public assistance forever, but I also don’t want to gamble with the little stability we have. Am I wrong for just wanting to hold on to what’s keeping us afloat, even if it means I don’t “get ahead”?
First, I want you to hear me loud and clear: you are not lazy. You are not broken. You are not weak. You are a mom doing everything in your power to hold the world together for your kids. And in a system that makes it damn near impossible to breathe when you’re poor, you’re still showing up. That takes guts. That takes courage. And I respect the hell out of that.
But I also need to tell you this: you’re not stuck — you’re scared.
And I don’t say that to shame you. I say it because fear wears all kinds of disguises: exhaustion, practicality, resentment, even gratitude. But at its core, fear is what’s keeping you from reaching for something better. Because you’ve already been to the edge. You know what it feels like to go without. And the idea of risking the tiny bit of stability you have? It’s paralyzing.
But here’s the truth: clinging to a safety net for too long eventually becomes its own kind of trap.
You said something important — that you’re not chasing big dreams, you just want a roof and food and peace. That’s beautiful. That’s noble. But sister, you can have that and not be dependent on a system that was never designed to help you thrive — only survive.
I’m not saying go out tomorrow and blow up your life. I’m saying make a plan. A slow, steady plan. One where you take back control a little at a time. Maybe that’s picking up a few more hours here and there. Maybe it’s learning a skill that pays a little more. Maybe it’s sitting down with someone to help you map out what it would really cost to step off the assistance — and what you’d need in place before you do.
But whatever you do, don’t settle for barely surviving.
You’ve got two little ones watching you. They don’t need a mom who plays it safe forever — they need a mom who believes in her own strength enough to bet on herself. Even if it’s scary. Even if it’s slow. Even if the system tells you you’re lucky just to have what you’ve got.
You are capable of more. You are worthy of more. And you are not alone.
You’ve got this.