They say this is the season of giving, but looking at my kitchen table, it feels more like the season of taking away. I used to be the one who donated a few cans to the food drive at my daughter’s school. This year, I was the one standing in line at the pantry, hoping they wouldn’t run out of boxes before I got to the front.The news keeps talking about how “inflation is cooling,” but tell that to the price tag on a simple turkey or a carton of eggs. It feels like a cruel joke. We just went through a government shutdown that paused our heating aid and messed up our SNAP benefits right when we needed them most. I read somewhere that 38% of Americans are worried about affording the holidays for the first time this year. Well, I’m not part of that 38%—I’ve been worried for years. But this year feels heavier.
My hours at the warehouse haven’t been cut, but my paycheck just dissolves. Utilities are up 12% from last year, and with the recent winter storms, I have to choose between a warm house and a full fridge. We made a choice this Christmas: no big gifts. I told my kids that Santa is “downsizing.” It broke my heart to see them try to be brave about it.
The worst part isn’t the hunger pangs; it’s the indignity. It’s the Iowa state government deciding to restrict what food we can buy with our benefits, as if being poor means we don’t deserve the dignity of choice. It’s seeing the wealthy celebrate record stock market highs while we count pennies for pasta. Tonight, we will eat, but the table feels empty. Not because we lack family, but because we lack the security to enjoy it. We are surviving, but we certainly aren’t living.
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