My Mental Health Depends on the Money I Make

My worth has become synonymous with my earnings

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My mortgage payment was due in two days, and I didn’t have the money. I was going to start the New Year by losing my home.

The fear had been rising all month. It was distant and peripheral at first, but it crept closer with each food shop or present I bought, sucking air through my teeth at the audacity of the prices. Each day of work missed for illness or festivities worsened the dread until it was an all-consuming despair.

It felt like I was lacking. Although my writing is my main source of income, I also place so much of my identity on being a writer. Because my income is based on the quality and quantity of my work, my self-worth became measured by the numbers on my bank statement, and I wasn’t worth enough.

The glut of Christmas intensified my feeling of failure. I couldn’t contribute to the merriment, the gifts, or the feasting because I knew my mortgage was about to default.

I couldn’t lose my home, not just for my sake, but for the family we were building.

Beginning a new life

My partner Abi and her daughter planned to move in with me in March this year. We met while I was walking the coast of Great Britain for a…