I must be like the Hulk, then.

Last week I had to email the swim coach to tell him that we can’t afford to have Number 3 and 4 swim on the swim team.

I basically begged for some flexibility.

I explained to him that our situation is so bad that rather than buy a new washing machine because ours completely died last week, I am trying to scrape up enough money so that Number 3 and 4 can swim.

It was embarrassing.

Bordering on humiliating.

I repeated this over and over:

We are in a very rough spot financially right now.

How we got here is a long story, and one that I’d eventually like to share.

Until then, this is how my dad put it:

“Things just never go your way.”

We can’t seem to catch a break.

It’s one thing after another.

One major thing after another.

You know, like your fucking washing machine dying.

Financial worries can suck the life out of you.

Combine that with the shit that has gone down in this country in the past few months and what you see when you turn on the news…

hurricanes,

sociopaths,

liars,

cheaters,

terrorists,

and you might lose all hope.

But I’ve been trying to look at things with some optimism.

Some, if you can make it through this, then you can make it through anything attitude.

Some, if you build it, he will come.

Some Journey inspired,

Don’t stop believing.

So the coach emailed me back, and he told me that he would work something out with me, and that I could talk to him when I brought Number 3 and 4 to practice.

Then yesterday I went to the Y.

The coach was standing at the front desk.

I was hoping he’d say we could make a payment plan.

Something like 3 or 4 payments spread out over the course of the summer instead of  just one big lump sum payment.

Well, he told me that he would do that.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

But he wasn’t done.

Then he said he would waive the processing fees.

I felt a small lump rise up in my throat.

We had caught a little break.

But he still wasn’t done…

Then he said he was only going to charge us 50% of the program fees.

I was confused.

Wait…

Program fees…

What are program fees?

Like that $25 registration fee?

So, like a clueless idiot, I said,

“Um, what are the program fees?”

And he said,

“Well, they’re in the Black group. So it’s $415 for each of them.”

“Yeah?” I said.

And he said,

“So you only have to pay half of that.”

My eyes nearly fell out of my head.

I didn’t stop believing.

But I did start bawling.

Like BAWLING.

I don’t know how old the coach is.

Probably mid to late twenties.

I’m pretty sure I scared the crap out of him.

What the fuck was he going to do with this crazy, hysterical lady, crying her eyes out in the middle of the lobby at the Y?

He may have contemplated letting them swim for free if I would just pull my shit together and stop crying.

People were staring at me.

Employees.

Members.

But I didn’t care.

Something went our way.

So if you are in a bind,

if you feel hopeless,

if you are scared/embarrassed/ashamed/whatever…

Cut that crap out.

Get over it, and tell someone.

Ask for help.

First of all, it’s kind of a relief.

But secondly, I think you’ll be surprised.

Sure.

There are some real assholes out there.

But there are some really good people out there too.

Really.

Good.

People.

A lot of them, actually.

And some of them work at the Y.

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