> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://fessup.mymidnight.blog/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # The Price of Needing Help - URL: https://fessup.mymidnight.blog/the-price-of-needing-help/ - Published: 2026-07-05T12:39:51.000Z - Updated: 2026-10-07T16:11:02.000Z - Description: Some debits don't show up on a bill. - Author: Jerry Fess - Tags: financial stress, friendship, financial hardship, depression, mental health, anxiety, friends, Newsletter, #Migrated-1791389245739, #Import 2026-10-07 11:10 I think one of the cruelest things about financial hardship is that it doesn’t just empty your bank account. Sometimes it chips away at your dignity. Sometimes it steals your confidence. And sometimes it quietly changes relationships you thought would always be there. ![](https://cdn.mymidnight.blog/faafda66202d234463057972460c04f5/2026/10/1ac116ff-93ff-4970-bf88-1e3896adb9fd_1536x1024-jpeg.jpg) I’m pretty sure I’ve lost friends because of my financial struggles. Maybe they got tired of hearing that I couldn’t afford to go out. Maybe they got tired of hearing me say, “I just need to make it until next month.” Maybe they got tired of me asking for help. Or maybe none of that is true. Maybe life simply pulled us in different directions. The problem is, when you’re the one who’s struggling, your mind doesn’t give you the benefit of the doubt. Every unanswered text feels intentional. Every conversation that gets shorter feels like you’ve become too much. Every friendship that quietly fades leaves you wondering: *Was it the money... or was it me?* Don’t get me wrong. I have some truly incredible friends who have helped me through some of the darkest financial seasons of my life. They didn’t have to help me, but they did. Some stepped in more than once. Some never made me feel ashamed. Some simply listened when I didn’t know what else to do. They didn’t just help me financially. They helped me hold on to my dignity. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to express how grateful I am for that. A simple “thank you” has never felt big enough. When someone helps keep a roof over your head, helps you buy medication, or simply helps you survive another month, those two words feel painfully inadequate. I hope they know my gratitude runs much deeper than I’ve ever been able to put into words. Before I ever ask for help, I write the text message over and over. I delete it. Rewrite it. Read it again. I make sure it doesn’t sound manipulative. I make sure it doesn’t sound entitled. I make sure I’m explaining enough without sounding like I’m making excuses. Then I stare at the Send button. My heart pounds every single time because I know what it feels like to wonder if this is the message that changes everything. ![](https://cdn.mymidnight.blog/faafda66202d234463057972460c04f5/files//files/2026/10/695dd4c6-953d-41be-88b3-b766d10ff93e_406x170.avif) Sometimes shame makes me feel like someone people need to protect themselves from. Not because I believe that’s who I am, but because that’s what repeated need can do to your mind. You begin to wonder if people cringe when they see your name pop up on their phone or think, *“What does he need this time?”* Even if they never say it, your own mind fills in the silence. I hate that feeling. The truth is, if I hadn’t asked for help when I did, there would have been consequences far beyond embarrassment. I could have lost my housing, gone without medication, or missed important medical appointments. Sometimes asking wasn’t about making life easier. It was about preventing my life from falling apart. Looking back, I think one of my biggest mistakes was believing that if someone had helped me once, it meant it was okay to ask again. I never saw anyone as a bank account or a safety net. I saw people I trusted, people I loved, and people I felt safe enough to be honest with. But I also understand how repeated requests can change the dynamic of a friendship. Even if every need was real, there comes a point where someone may feel overwhelmed. They may start to wonder if the friendship has become one-sided. That was never my intention, but intentions don’t always change how another person experiences something. When you’re in survival mode, you’re trying to solve today’s crisis, not realizing you might be creating tomorrow’s heartache. If I’ve hurt people by asking too much, I’m truly sorry. I never wanted anyone to feel that my friendship was based on what they could do for me. It wasn’t. I valued their friendship long before I needed their help, and I still do. I also don’t want this to sound like I’m the victim. The people I’ve asked for help have their own bills, worries, and responsibilities. They’re allowed to have boundaries. They’re allowed to say no. They’re allowed to reach a point where they simply can’t help anymore. I don’t resent them for that. ![a piggy bank and coins](https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1656049471454-ff3c59812741?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&ixid=M3wzMDAzMzh8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw3fHxwaWdneSUyMGJhbmt8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzgzMjUzOTgyfDA&ixlib=rb-4.1.0&q=80&w=1080) Photo by [Katie Harp](https://unsplash.com/@kharp?ref=fessup.mymidnight.blog) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?ref=fessup.mymidnight.blog) What I do wish is that more people understood the reality of living on a fixed income. People often say, “Just make a budget.” I have one. The problem isn’t that I don’t know where my money goes; the problem is that there isn’t enough money to go where it needs to. Those are two very different problems. Every single dollar of my disability check already has a job before it ever reaches my bank account. Rent. Utilities. Insurance. Medication. Gas. Groceries. Phone. Internet. Copays. By the time those necessities are covered, there’s nothing left. Not because I spent it on vacations or an extravagant lifestyle, but because that’s what it costs just to exist. So when someone says, “You need to budget better,” I find myself wondering... Budget what? Am I supposed to call the electric company and ask if they’ll charge me less this month? Should I skip another doctor’s appointment and hope my health somehow improves on its own? Then there are the people who say, “If you can’t afford it, you shouldn’t be buying it.” I understand the logic. But buying what? My medication? Gas to get to my doctor’s appointments? Groceries? These aren’t luxuries. They’re the things that keep my life functioning. When you’re living on a fixed income, the choices usually aren’t between a need and a want. They’re between two needs. At some point, the conversation stops being about budgeting. It becomes, *What essential part of your life do you expect me to live without?* There is another part of living on a fixed income that I don’t talk about very often: grief. Not because I don’t have the newest toys, but because I know there are experiences I’ll probably never have. I’ll probably never drive a brand-new car and breathe in that unmistakable new-car smell. I’ll probably never buy the computer I’ve dreamed about for my art and music. ![slightly opened silver MacBook](https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1517336714731-489689fd1ca8?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&ixid=M3wzMDAzMzh8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwzfHxtYWNib29rJTIwcHJvfGVufDB8fHx8MTc4MzI1NDU2OHww&ixlib=rb-4.1.0&q=80&w=1080) Photo by [Dmitry Chernyshov](https://unsplash.com/@oneor0?ref=fessup.mymidnight.blog) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?ref=fessup.mymidnight.blog) I know those aren’t necessities. I know people have far bigger problems. But it’s still okay to admit that it hurts. When you know your income is unlikely to change, you stop asking, *Maybe someday?* You start asking, *Will I ever experience that in my lifetime?* That’s a different kind of sadness. It’s grieving possibilities. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s that two things can be true at the same time. I can be genuinely struggling, and someone else can be genuinely worn out from trying to help me. Neither one cancels out the other. I don’t believe anyone owes me anything, and I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m simply trying to explain what this life feels like from the inside because there are millions of people living on fixed incomes who quietly carry this same shame every day. If you’ve never lived it, I hope this helps you understand it. If you have, I hope you know you’re not alone. And to the people who helped me... thank you. Not just for the money. Thank you for believing me. Thank you for seeing me as more than my circumstances. Thank you for helping me keep a little hope alive when I was running dangerously low on it. Financial hardship has cost me more than I ever imagined. Not just financially, but emotionally and relationally. But it has also taught me something I’ll never forget. **My circumstances are not my worth.** The people who chose compassion over judgment reminded me of that. And for that, I’ll always be grateful. --- [Buy me a coffee](https://buymeacoffee.com/jerryfess?ref=fessup.mymidnight.blog) [Subscribe](#/portal/signup)