It used to be, long ago, that if only the guy I was living with could get a part-time job as a sandwich artist at Subway, we'd have enough money to pay the rent. If only. (He didn't, by the way. And we didn't. And we got kicked out.)

Then, it was if only the same guy could sell a car. Just SELL a car already. Then we can make rent. Then you can stop going to work day after day and not getting paid. Then we can keep this apartment. (He didn't, we didn't, we got kicked out. Again. Eventually I got rid of him.)

I got myself together and went back to school, and then if only I could get a job in the computer lab, I'd have enough pocket money to go out and get a beer. If I could get a part-time job waiting tables, I'd maybe be able to buy some cheese sticks, too. (I did, I did, I did, I did.)

Then I moved off-campus, and the money at the first restaurant dried up. If only I could get a job at the suburban high-dollar chain, I could make rent and not have to cash the patronizing $100 check my then-boyfriend had left for me "to buy books" before he dropped out of college and moved back to the east coast. I did, and there was plenty of money. Enough for rent and clothes and all the fun I wanted.

I left the job waiting tables when I moved for grad school. I was a grad assistant, but we got paid only so often, and the student loan money didn't go very far in pricey Boston. I paid almost as much for my share of the rent as our 3-bedroom apartment in Cleveland had cost. I hung on for awhile, but it became too much to manage. I needed another job. If only I could get a job temping, that would fill the gaps and pay the rent and maybe even buy actual food. I did, and it did.

I graduated, I was living with someone again. If only I could get an actual job in my field and quit the temping gig, I would be able to afford my student loan payments and a reasonable share of the rent. (He would probably still have to pay when we went out to eat, though.) I finally did, and it did, and I even bought a car.

Then we bought a house and were getting married and I was starting a new job and I got pregnant. And I lost the new job. But it was Ok, I would get another job after the wedding/after the baby was born/after the baby got to be 6/9/12 months old/maybe never. But I missed working. If only I could get the job working part-time for the health startup, it would contribute financially and give me something to keep my finger on the pulse of the working world. And I did and it did, till it eventually completely changed directions and eliminated almost all of its staff, me included.

And my husband stretched his wings and went for another job, it was a shaky proposition but it paid about $10k more than his previous job, so he went for it. And it was awful but he hung in there, and eventually they ran out of money and he was looking for a job. And I wasn't working and he wasn't working and it was scary, but only a little because the recruiters circled like vultures. If only he could get a job making another $15k a year, we would be so much better off. If only. And he did, and another $20k on top of that besides.

We sold our house and we bought another house and I was pregnant again and we had another baby. And now I couldn't go back to work, because the economy is awful and jobs in my field(s) don't pay enough to keep the kids in daycare. So I'm home and I'm freelancing when I can find the time and I'm setting a goal: If only I can make xyz (almost as much as my first full-time gig out of grad school), it would really help out. And it's totally doable, if a wee bit lofty. Things are tight, sometimes. My husband works to increase his income by another $20k. Or more. We call it a "struggle", and by the end of the month we're not going out to eat any more and I'm pulling food out of the freezer instead of buying fresh stuff at Whole Foods. We wish we could buy a new car and renovate the kitchen.

I wrote all of this because sometimes, I think it is easy to get caught up in the rhythm of the struggle, to say to yourself "I am someone who has had to struggle for everything I've gotten.". And that may be true--we all struggle. But sometimes if you're busy looking at the struggle, you miss the progress you've made along the way. And you might mistake yourself for a scared 19-year-old who just wishes her loser boyfriend could get hired at a fast-food joint so she'll still have a place to live, when really you're nothing like that person any more, not at all.