Stepping into the Crack (Debbie’s Story Continued)
It’s easy to read Debbie’s story and a) doubt its truth by suspecting she is lying or exaggerating; b) chalk it up to ignorance and stupidity. (Sadly, there are a lot of people out there who even after being told what to do and how to help themselves choose self-sabotage instead); c) write her off as hopeless, a victim of a series of ill-informed, bad decisions which have snowballed one after the next; d) give quick-fix advice, hoping your kernel of wisdom will be the magic pill to solve all her ills; and/or e) walk away.
I know because I at least temporarily did all of these things. None of those scenarios about Debbie are true, nor were any of the actions enough to help. The reality is, the more you know about Debbie, the harder it is to rationalize her problems away.
As Debbie’s story continued to unfold, I both verified it and secured her agreement to share it. During this process, I was often impressed and ashamed. Impressed by her ability to persist when I have often given up over far, far less; ashamed by how visibly and courageously a woman of humble means had lived her convictions while I, of considerably more resources, had usually hidden behind mine.
To understand my reaction it helps to know more about Debbie. I invite you to step further into the crack with me that is currently her life, as told in her own words:
“I know it’s hard to believe so many things. I twice gave to the (Obama) campaign myself back before my husband was laid off in January. When my husband was working, we were not upper middle class nor was we middle class according to movement standards. I guess one would say we were at the edge of lower middle class—borderline poverty—because between my husband and I we earned around $45,000 a year. But it paid our bills and enabled us to at least have a taste of the American dream, and we sure didn’t have to worry about the basic human needs being cut off.
