Give Up or Die

 Give Up or Die: Two Years Later, I’m Still Falling Through the Cracks

To be, or not to be.

Shakespeare asked the question centuries ago.

Today, I have my own version:

Give up or die.

I wish I were being dramatic.

I’m not.

Two years ago, I wrote about why women in their early 60s are falling through the cracks. I wrote about ageism, housing, inadequate social assistance, rising costs and the gap between being too young for some senior benefits and too old to be treated as a desirable worker.

I thought I was writing about a problem.

Now I am living inside it.

And I am scared.

I am still a few months away from receiving my full pension. I have shelter until the end of this month.

After that?

I could truly be homeless.

For the first time in my life.

That sentence is difficult to write.

I have spent my life working, creating, cleaning, caring, making things, adapting and trying to figure out how to survive. I have worked in photography and digital imaging. I have created content. I have cleaned houses. I have pet-sat and dog-walked. I have made art.

I am still trying.

But trying doesn't necessarily mean you can pay the rent.

I Need Help — But Asking for Help Has Become Another Job

I know what people will say.

“Go on welfare.”

Yes.

I could try.

But anyone who has gone through these systems knows that asking for assistance can feel like applying to prove that you are poor enough, desperate enough and worthy enough to receive a few hundred or a thousand dollars.

There are forms.

Questions.

Documentation.

More questions.

Personal information.

Explanations.

Judgments.

And the constant feeling that you are being asked to demonstrate just how badly you are struggling before someone decides whether you deserve help.

Meanwhile, the amount of assistance available often doesn't come close to covering the cost of actual housing.

We should be able to say this plainly:

A system that provides too little money to afford a safe place to live is not solving homelessness.

And nobody should have to accept an unsafe, degrading living environment simply because they are poor.

People should not be forced into housing where rats would struggle to live.

I Made Paintings Because I Need to Make Money

So I did what I know how to do.

I made art.

A lot of it.

I have been painting and building collections because I love making art, but also because I need to sell something.

I need money.

I know that sounds desperate.

It is desperate.

I'm not going to dress it up as some inspirational story about following your dreams.

I am trying to sell my paintings because I need somewhere to live.

I also tried selling my things at a market at Bard on the Beach. I chose the cheapest table I could afford because that was what I could manage.

I barely sold anything.

And yesterday I received a rejection letter from Dressew.

Another door closed.

I clean once a week, too.

And I am grateful for the work.

But my body reminds me afterward that I am not 30 anymore.

I clean.

I come home.

And I hurt.

Then I get up and try again.

This Is What Falling Through the Cracks Looks Like

It doesn't always look like someone sitting on a sidewalk with a shopping cart.

Sometimes it looks like a woman with a camera.

Sometimes it looks like an artist carrying paintings.

Sometimes it looks like someone who has worked her entire life but doesn't have enough money saved to bridge a few months.

Sometimes it looks like someone who is still functioning, still creating, still cleaning, still applying, still asking questions—

right up until the moment there is nowhere left to go.

That is the dangerous part.

People assume that if you are still functioning, you must be okay.

I'm not okay.

I'm trying.

There is a difference.

And Then There Is the Bureaucracy

I just wrote another post about forms, government systems and what happens when people are forced to spend their lives navigating bureaucracy instead of actually living them.

At some point, I have to wonder:

Are these systems designed to help people, or are they designed to make people give up?

Because when someone is exhausted, grieving, aging, sick, overwhelmed or simply broke, every additional form becomes another obstacle.

Every rejection becomes another weight.

Every delay becomes another month without rent.

And every bureaucratic demand says, in effect:

Prove it again.

Prove that you're poor.

Prove that you're desperate.

Prove that you need housing.

Prove that you tried.

Prove that you looked for work.

Prove that you're eligible.

Prove that you deserve help.

How many times can a person be asked to prove they are struggling before the system finally believes them?

I Don't Want Charity. I Want a Bridge.

I don't want someone to feel sorry for me.

I want a bridge.

A bridge between working age and retirement.

A bridge between being independent and needing help.

A bridge between having a temporary roof and becoming homeless.

A bridge that recognizes that life doesn't suddenly become affordable because you reach a particular birthday.

There are thousands of people in this situation.

And many of them are invisible because they are still trying desperately to keep everything together.

Until they can't.

And I'm Thinking About Small Businesses Too

I have been watching what is happening to small businesses and online sellers with the new tariff environment, and my heart goes out to them.

Small businesses already operate on thin margins.

Then you add tariffs, shipping costs, platform fees, advertising costs and everything else—and suddenly the person who thought they were building a little business is fighting simply to stay afloat.

I'm actually glad I don't sell my paintings primarily online.

For me, it would add another layer of costs and uncertainty.

Instead, I'm trying to take my art into the real world.

Markets.

Pop-ups.

People.

Conversations.

Maybe someone will see a painting and fall in love with it.

Maybe someone will understand that buying a painting isn't just buying a piece of art.

Maybe they're helping an artist stay housed.

Two Years Later, I'm Asking Again

Two years ago, I asked why women in their early 60s are falling through the cracks.

Now I'm asking a harder question:

What happens when one of those women is me?

What happens when she is only a few months away from her pension but cannot survive until then?

What happens when she has nowhere to go?

What happens when she has tried working?

What happens when she has tried selling things?

What happens when she has made art?

What happens when she has filled out forms?

What happens when she has applied and been rejected?

What happens when she keeps trying anyway?

At what point does society stop telling her to “try harder” and start asking why the bridge isn't there?

I am scared.

I am desperate.

And I am still trying.

I don't want to give up.

I don't want to become homeless.

I don't want to spend the next chapter of my life proving that I am poor enough to deserve a place to sleep.

I want to work.

I want to paint.

I want to sell my paintings.

I want to live somewhere safe.

I want to reach retirement without falling apart first.

So here I am, two years later, asking the question again.

Not as an abstract policy issue.

Not as somebody else's story.

My story.

Give up or die?

Surely, in a country as wealthy as Canada, we can come up with a third choice:

Help people bridge the gap.

Before they fall.

Before they become homeless.

Before the paperwork becomes more powerful than the human being standing in front of it.

Before “temporary hardship” becomes a permanent life.

I am still here.

I am still painting.

I am still trying.

But I shouldn't have to be this scared.

10 Reflective Questions

Government: What happens to someone who is only months away from their pension but cannot afford to survive until then?

Government: Why does asking for assistance sometimes feel like an interrogation instead of a lifeline?

Government: How can a benefit be considered adequate if it cannot actually secure safe housing?

Government: Why are people required to prove their desperation repeatedly before receiving help?

Friends: If someone you know says, “I am scared I will be homeless next month,” would you know what to do?

Neighbours: How many people in your neighbourhood are quietly struggling behind closed doors?

Friends: Do we recognize the difference between someone who has given up and someone who is exhausted from trying?

Neighbours: If an older woman has worked her whole life and is suddenly facing homelessness, would you assume she simply didn't try hard enough?

Everyone: At what point does personal responsibility become a convenient excuse for a system that has failed?

All of us: What would you want someone to do for you if you were only a few months away from safety—but couldn't survive those months alone?

#GiveUpOrDie

#HousingCrisis

#SeniorPoverty

#WomenOver60

#Homelessness

#AffordableHousing

#GovernmentAccountability

#SocialAssistance