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.

1. 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.

2. Because I own a business, some things in my life are company expenses and therefore tax deductible.

3. My microbusiness connects me to decent-ish, subsidized health insurance (which accesses me to doctors who don’t take Medicare or Medicaid).

4. It also allows me to set up and fund retirement accounts—with contributions that come off my income for said health insurance subsidy calculations.

5. 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.

2. Live low on the food chain.

1. 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.

2. 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.)

3. 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.

4. 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 and I can’t see what gear I’m in, but she’s hard to kill. Kinda like me.

5. Groceries are near impossible for me to get lower with 12 tolerable ingredients, but I do what I can to buy a few things in bulk or on sale online.

Hat from Army Surplus 18 years ago, hoodie from a gift card, vest on Ororo final sale clearance, $14 tights from Sierra Trading Post, and boots from my sister! Et viola, a fully functional triking ‘fit that screams, “pull your children away from me.”

3. Ask for help that actually helps.

1. 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.

2. 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.

3. 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 and my partner, floss, food, towels, some small luxuries (AND MY ENTIRE TRIKE!) come my way.

4. 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.)

5. 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 I've been wearing for three months straight.

4. Treat money like it’s malleable.

1. I aggressively negotiate bills from corporate healthcare and other megaconglomerates, often qualifying for forgiveness or discounts. Scripts here!

2. Leverage a high yield savings account even more. In addition to my future taxes, I keep a totaled car insurance payout in 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.)

3. 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.

4. 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.

5. 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.

1. 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).

2. If it costs more to shop at the closest grocery store, or buy the merino wool that doesn’t need as much laundering, 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.)

3. 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 Capital One Shopping. (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. I get decants of perfume, but I still buy fragrance. 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.

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Grab a deal on the survival tools I actually use:

• Get $100 when you open a new Ally account using this link. (Gives me $50, too.) Minimum deposit is $1k. This one’s my fave for the buckets feature!

• Get a $200 bonus (and then up to 3% cash back forever) on a no-fee card with American Express with this link. (I get $75.)

• 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.

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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.)

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Reader Amy says I need my coffee fund and gift registry back on the books, so here it is:

Thank you, Amy, for prompting me to put it back! 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!