The Sanest Thing I Ever Did

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   Sometimes, there’s nothing for it. Sometimes, you try andtry and try and then you try some more, but you can’t get past where you are.Sometimes, the struggle takes on a life of its own, colouring everything elsearound you, making it impossible to have a moment that is free and pure ofworry. Sometimes, it turns you into an modern-day Sisyphus, pushing the rock upthe hill over and over, only to have it roll down again. Sometimes, you get solost in the fight that you lose perspective, instead blindly moving through amorass of futility.
Sometimes, you have to surrender to reality.
Six months ago, I was one of the spokespeople for The HealthCouncil of Canada’s report about people who live with chronic illness and theirchallenges within the healthcare system. My story focused on the cost ofchronic illness – the money. Because having a chronic illness is expensive. Add a disability on top of that and it becomes major money.
We don't talk about the money. It's not polite to talk aboutmoney and it's certainly not polite to talk about having money trouble. And Istruggled a fair bit before I decided to be more open about it. On both the internet and television,no less. As part of the spokesperson experience, I was interviewed by Global Newsand at the end of that interview when the reporter asked me how I managed, Imade a smartass comment about being very grateful to Visa for all their help.
The problem with Visa is that they want their money back.The problem with having a chronic illness and a disability is that the expensesare never-ending and substantial. In the past nine years, I have spent somewherein the neighbourhood of $65,000 on the medications and equipment (wheelchair,automatic door opener, etc) that I need to live. Even with having a part-time job for the past four years,that's a lot more money going out than coming in.
Three years ago, I looked into declaring bankruptcy.Ultimately, I decided against it because I couldn't afford to not have mycredit cards. Credit was the only reason I could afford my meds, random wheelchairrepairs and the like. I took a look at my debt and I took a look at the factthat I had a job and was convinced I could deal with it, sure I could get ahead somehow.
I was completely deluded. I couldn't deal with it, I couldn't get ahead of it. Asthe medication costs continued, as my grocery bill grew because my body becameless cooperative in terms of what food it would tolerate and as my wheelchaircontinued to be a lemon that needs a ridiculous amount of repairs, the costskept rising and so did my debt load.
For a long time now, I have become nauseated every time Ipay my bills. For long time, I have managed to only pay the minimum payment onmy debt every month, essentially just the interest. And for a long time, I haverun out of money around the 18th of every month and needed to use credit to buygroceries.
This is not a recipe for paying off your debt. All this doesis increase it, gradually, inexorably, nauseatingly.
There is a saying attributed to a variety of people (includingFreud and Einstein) that the definition of insanity is doing the same thingover and over again and expecting a different result. Recently, I took a long,hard look at my life and realized I needed to face facts: to continue on thisroad came awfully close to meeting that definition.
And then I wrestled with the shame. Because you're supposedto honour your debt. It's how I've been raised and it's a deeply held value notonly within myself, but in our society. How do you get to the point where youcan admit to yourself - and others - that you need help?
A couple of years when I first looked into bankruptcy, Italked to a wonderful bankruptcy trustee who did much to take away the feelingsof shame. I also have a good friend or two who's going through it and seeingthem get back on top of their financial situation, meet their obligations andthrive made it easier to see the purpose of it. But still, it took months toget there. Intellectually, I could see the necessity, but emotionally, I stillhad trouble.
I tried talking to my creditors about lowering the interestrate so I'd be able to pay off some of the principal every month, instead of just the interest, but they came back with a half of a percentage point. Which would do nothing. And then I finally talked to a trustee and discovered therewere options. I could declare bankruptcy or I could do a consumer proposal. Inthe latter, you set out a budget and based on the numbers, propose to pay off acertain amount of your debt over five years. So I took a realistic look at mybudget, crossed my fingers that I would have a job for that time and sent itin.
On Friday, I got the news that my proposal has beenaccepted.
For the next five years, I will give a certain amount ofmoney to my trustee every month.  And I will be able to afford my groceries notjust in the first week of the month, but the last one, too.
And it turns out that there is no shame in it at all. Thereis only relief and the knowledge that this is the beginning of getting back incontrol. The start of freedom.