5 unexpected ways I make enough money to survive while ridiculously ill
Honestly? Resourcefulness and privilege. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.
How do chronically ill people survive when they’re too sick to earn? And disability “benefits”…aren’t?
I don’t know. I just know how *I* do. How do you?
Before I tell all, let me fully admit: this is a list of privilege, lucky breaks, chance, ability, creativity, and scrappiness. In that order.
My take? If you have ANYTHING that can help you through sickness, for the love of Pepto-Bismol, LET IT HELP YOU.
This sounds simple. It’s not. I myself resisted pretty much anything that could have actually helped because I didn’t want to “seem cheap” or “demand too much” or “ask for handouts” or “take what isn’t mine” or whatever.
I want to give past me a righteous wedgie. All she did was put herself and her loved ones through a meat-grinder of self-precious martyrdom. For what? Optics? Let’s not.
Trust me: people will ALWAYS find something to snark about you, if they’re snarky.
Quit worrying about it. It’s already happening.
On the other hand, those who really love and care about you will continue to do so. Period.
Alright, onto the survival skills.
If this list looks exhausting…in many ways, IT IS.
And in many ways, it just becomes habit over time. Start anywhere.
How I make enough money to get by as a chronically ill human in constant pain:
1. Run my own microbusiness.
My services have a healthy price tag per hour. My client results justify it. Last year, I made an okay-ish salary working less than quarter-time.
Because I own a business, some things in my life are company expenses and therefore tax deductible.
My microbusiness connects me to decent-ish, subsidized health insurance (which accesses me to doctors who don’t take Medicare or Medicaid).
It also allows me to set up and fund retirement accounts—with contributions that come off my income for said health insurance subsidy calculations.
I have to save money for business taxes and company expenses…no reason they can’t go into a high yield savings account and make a little interest while I do. This link gives you $100 to put into my favorite one (and I tried a few.)
2. Live low on the food chain.
I live in tenement housing where rent is half what it should be. Boiler heat, water, and gas is included (and unlimited). Pros and cons here.
Most of my belongings and a lot of my clothes came out of our building’s free pile. (I also consign things out of the free pile if no one grabs them.)
In our building, we watch out for one another. One example of many: I take notes and flowers to a sweet lady who has lived in our building since the 70s (!). She schemed to get me the ONE close parking spot for our 40 person building. Less walking from my car=more agency to work.
I drive my Nana’s turn-of-the-century Buick. She’s a tank. Cost me a $1, thanks to my Dad. Smells like a sewer anytime the temp hits above freezing , but she’s hard to kill. Kinda like me.

3. Ask for help that actually helps.
I have (out-of-state) family support. It took years to rally. That's another post. But it comes in many forms, all of which make life more sustainable.
I support my community how I can, and they support me back. My best friend just covered a month of therapy, for which I am extremely grateful…and I’ve also been available for unlicensed “voice note therapy” when she needs.
I put out what I need (or want!) into a gift registry and mostly thanks to one incredibly sweet aunt but also some very sweet friends, floss, food, towels, sheets, some small luxuries (AND MY ENTIRE TRIKE!) come my way.
Family members send me money. I could survive in the surviviest sense on what I make alone, but this gives me some agency to save a little, get dental cleanings, afford supplements, and things like that. (Goal: level up into an auntie.)
If there's a gifting occasion coming up and people ask what I would like, I answer truthfully (and usually with something super boring but useful). My sister sponsored a pair of winter boots. My friend Sally just sent me a year’s supply of water filters.
4. Treat money like it’s malleable.
I aggressively negotiate bills from corporate healthcare and other megaconglomerates, often qualifying for forgiveness or discounts. Scripts here!
Leverage a high yield savings account. Unfair we can be paid for having money, but also unfair I can’t have cake, so moving on. (I tried several and like this one best.)
Work those cash back credit cards. I get 6% back on groceries here, 6% back on online purchases at a Bank of America card, Alaska Air Miles on the credit card I use to cover medical bills, and 2% back on my Citi whatever card.
Do I want privacy or money? Honestly, money. I just got a $67 check from Rakuten ($50 referral link). Apparently I’ve saved nearly $1k on Capital One Shopping, which just runs in the background and drops discount codes in for me. I don’t even shop that much (most of it was from business purchases.)
I ask for discounts wherever I possibly can, especially on non-insurance covered medical care. I also look for scholarships and financial aid on anything I need. If I don’t see it, I ask if it could exist. I’m honest about my financial picture. Sometimes, I qualify.
If my insurance says it isn’t covered, I fight. Fax machines are involved. It’s not for the faint of heart, but it can be tens of thousands of dollars saved.
I made my Meatscon Pay-What-You-Want. That meant sickies who needed it free got it free. And sickies who could afford to throw down a few bucks could, too. (Thank you to everyone who downloaded it, shared it, and covered coffees!)
5. Spend money to save energy for more lucrative work.
My mom pays for a laundry service. It is the single best investment we have made in my health, including treatments at some of the leading medical centers. If I had to do my own laundry, there's no way I could work at all (it would require hauling loads up and down three stories and out to a laundromat).
If it costs more to shop at the closest grocery store or order DoorDash so you don’t have to cook BUT THAT HELPS YOU WORK AND MAKE MORE, then consider the tradeoffs. (Also: ask for a discount.)
There are apps I subscribe to, consultants I hire, and ergonomic comfy desk thingies I pay for to make work WORK. If it saves me some agency and I can make a bit more paying for it, worth the profit.
What do you do to make the unworkable work for you?
Things I don’t do to survive as a sickie:
Bilk my friends, family, partner, or government. There is a world of difference between being honest about your needs and gracefully accepting what is given…and twisting the truth and mooching. (FWIW? You’re not mooching.)
Coupon clip. Instead, I let the corporate overlords keep track of me and grab discount codes from sites like Rakuten ($50 referral link) or Capital One Shopping ($80 for both of us). (Privacy? Nahhhhh.)
Hide my financial struggle. I was raised talking about money is rude. But that’s pretty much only ever shot me in the fallen-arches foot. It doesn’t serve me or anyone else to pretend life with ongoing medical care is affordable.
Cut every scrap of purchasable joy out of my life a la Dave Ramsey. I get the cheapest, tiniest drink at the coffeeshop, but I still get it. And tip a dollar. Constant pain plus endless “food poisoning” plus too many other symptoms to list is a slog. I refuse to deny myself a few little treats to distract me from the awfulness.
Compromise my health to work…sort of. This is a work in progress. I still get too excited about projects, overdo it, and give myself a migraine. I’ve come a long way—I do my damndest to turn meetings into emails, pace out work, respect my limits, and make work work for my illness—and I’m working on streamlining even more.
Look. Capitalism turns into a truly tough gig when you can’t work like you used to. It gets tougher when the “budget hacks” (cook your own food! walk to work! DIY!) are for people enough to like…cook, walk, and DIY. And when there’s an avalanche of medical bills…it can be super tempting to just rob a dog salon.
(Trust me. I’ve considered it. Vetoed because prison won’t have low-histamine chicken.)
But…sickies are the toughest, most resilient folks I know. (Even if we’re goddamn tired of being so.) Still. PERSIST. Share these tricks, tell us yours, and keep the crip community living as well as possible. Truly, the best revenge.
Have some free cash, from survival tools I actually use:
• Get $5 plus shopping bonuses from Acorns…where I’ve accidentally made ~$2k in less than a year somehow?? Just do the lowest cheesiest tier at ~$3/mo to maintain the account, which usually more than pays for itself. I do get a fluctuating amount of money if enough people sign up at once (rare but happened once, please do it today if you want it to maybe happen again!)
• Get up to a $300 bonus (and then 6% back on groceries, which are spendyaf rn) with no fee for the first year on this card with American Express. (I get $75.)
• Get ANOTHER $300 with a Capital One checking account. IDK, it’s a zero-fee checking account that I mostly opened to score $300 but nice backup? (I get $50.)
• Get $100 when you open a new Ally high-yield (~3.3%!) savings account. No minimum deposit! You don’t even have to fund it hard. But if you do, it’s the easiest money you’ll ever make. No fees. (I’m linking my sister’s referral bc I’ve earned all I can on mine, and she’s also a sickie who could use the bonus rn.)
• Score a $100 REI gift card just for buying something not at REI. (A surprising amount of outdoor adventure gear works awesome for crip exploits.)
• Make $80 (and earn me $80) just for installing Capital One’s discount code finder. I’m always surprised just how powerful it is, and it regularly saves me $20-30 on big purchases. If you’re a paragon of privacy, skip; I personally don’t mind targeted ads.
• Rake in $50 (and earn me $50) for using Rakuten (more codes and cash back). Again, privacy gets sold. But do we have much anyway? I’ll take the money.
• Help yourself to $10 at Instacart (and toss me $10). It’s clutch in a pinch and I’m 80% happy with it (and they’re good about refunds when I’m not). My top tip: actually tip.
If you don’t need these links, please share them with someone who does—it helps support me and this free missive!
Not cash, but…
• Take $60 off a Liberty Trike like mine with this link (I think it gives me $60, too?) For the cheapest deal, get the “Classic” (aka, old, aka, mine) model or a refurb.
• Take 25% off Lost Range CBD (I get $10) here. Deep in the agony cave, I ordered their Gold Buckle Muscle Rub and GLORY HALLELUJAH first three hours of real pain reduction in like 30 years. Not kidding. It’s basically expensive Tiger Balm, and the science is out on CBD, but it smells SO much better and I think that’s part of the feeling of, oh, I’m not on a torture rack anymore, I’m at a nice spa. Put it on your sickie wish list!
I wasn’t gonna mention the Meatscon again but…couldn’t resist. Getcha one!
Fill it out. And have a slightly better handle on your own personal ever-changing hellscape! (In all seriousness…it truly helps my nearest and dearest to know “where” I am on the suffer-scope.)
Reader Amy says I need my coffee fund and gift registry back on the books, so here it is—especially since I’m a February birthday!:
I’ll always welcome a coffee at Venmo kira-stoops, any payment on the Meatscon, and my gift registry is here.
Til next time, sickettes!



I think it's worth it to point out that troops don't necessarily know how to rally at first. Frankly, I don't think sickies (let me know if that's not the right word. It's the one I use in my life) know what to even ask for at first. So the troops are going to struggle to learn.
Supporting a sick person can be a huge question mark at first. You can know that they have food issues, but it can be a bunch of unknowns. A well-considered gifted food might just leave your favorite sickie praying to the gods of mercy while hanging onto the floor for dear life. You can come over to clean and it seems fine, but they end up with a migraine a few hours after you leave. Was it the cleaning, was it just gunna happen? You go on the Super Easy hike and it's fun, but... they get worse a few days later. Early failures require a lot of fortitude to push through. Totally demoralizing for the troops to fight and not win.
Looking back, a rally in year one was bravado fueled by a misplaced belief that we could so dramatically overdo it that it alone would be the cure, and strategy spawned from comically wrong misinformation born of bad science (but we didn't know that yet.) A rally in year ten is done by veterans who are informed and resolute, people who know that the effort today might trigger illness tomorrow, but it's still appreciated a few weeks from now, and that's a win. But it takes a long time to learn. And veteran troops know that the illness will morph too, they know that the strategy remains but the tactics have to shift. They know that learning that is also a win! But that is a tall hill to climb.
It doesn't necessarily take years to rally the troops. But it does take years for them to form a legion of knowledgeable help. You can't really start too soon.
This is one of the most honest takes on surviving chronic illness I’ve read in a long time. The mix of scrappiness, transparency, and refusal to romanticize struggle feels grounding.. There’s something powerful about treating money as a tool rather than a moral test.. Thank you for naming the privilege, the grit, and the reality without pretending it’s pretty..