One Paycheck Away: The Conversation Nobody Wants to Have
Updated: Oct 4
By QueenB.Divine
Notice this. How many of us are one paycheck away from everything going sideways? And I don't mean, “Damn, I can't order takeout this weekend.” I'm talking about real sideways. Rent doesn't get paid. The car payment bounces. You're looking at your bank account like staring at it harder might magically add a zero. You start wondering whether you need a roommate, whether you can borrow money, whether you're going to lose your apartment or, in the worst situation, where the hell you're going to sleep. That's a different kind of fear.
People throw around the phrase “living paycheck to paycheck” so casually that we've almost made it sound normal. But think about what it actually means. You can be working, responsible, paying your bills and doing everything you're supposedly meant to do, yet one missed paycheck can knock the legs out from underneath you. That's the part that bothers me. Sometimes people aren't irresponsible. Sometimes there simply isn't enough room between surviving and falling.
I know because I've been there. My husband and I have been evicted before. More than once, actually. Yeah, I said it. I'm not going to polish my history so it looks prettier on the internet. There were times during our journey together when money was tight, work wasn't consistent and we found ourselves facing something genuinely terrifying: Where are we going to live? And let me tell you, eviction isn't “kind of scary.” It's God-dang scary.
I remember one particular time when we were living around Pickering, Ontario. We were sharing a house with someone, giving them our portion of the household expenses and believing those bills were being handled. Apparently, they weren't. Eventually the eviction notice came, and suddenly somebody else's financial decisions had become part of our emergency. Work was inconsistent. My husband was doing snow removal, which is wonderful when Mother Nature cooperates, but unfortunately she doesn't accept requests for Tuesday morning snowstorms because your rent is due Friday.
We eventually got down to about three days before we had to leave. I was scared, angry and probably cycling through every emotion available to the human nervous system. I remember thinking, I deserve better than this. My husband finally suggested we go for a walk. Sometimes when there's nothing left to solve in that exact moment, walking is about the only thing you can afford to do. So off we went with our dog. And yes, naturally I was worried about the dog too. Humans can be strange that way. Your own life is falling apart and you're thinking, Oh my God, is the dog okay?
While we were walking and talking about what the hell we were going to do, a man approached us from the opposite direction. He was talking on the phone, reached toward us almost like he was giving me some weird low high-five, quickly told us to come to his house, rattled off an address and continued walking.
My husband looked at me.
I looked at him.
“Do you know that guy?”
Nope.
Did I understand what had just happened? Nope.
But I had something left that didn't cost anything: hope.
For some reason, I wondered whether this strange encounter might have something to do with what we were going through. Eventually my husband and I decided, What the hell, let's walk over there. We found the address, and the house turned out to be this gorgeous place near a golf course. We knocked. The man welcomed us inside, offered us coffee and eventually heard what we were dealing with.
Then he told us something I will never forget.
He had plenty of room, and we could stay.
Three days away from not knowing where we were going to live, and somehow a walk down the street changed the direction of our lives. We did stay there for quite some time, and there is a whole other story attached to that experience. Believe me, that's another blog all by itself.
But here's why I'm telling you this: not everybody gets that ending.
That's what stays with me.
When I walk around today and see houses, apartments, fruit trees, land, businesses, people working and all the abundance that exists around us, I sometimes wonder how somebody can be working one month and facing homelessness the next. I don't pretend to have a simple answer. Housing, wages, taxes, profits, government policy and personal circumstances are complicated. But I think we're allowed to ask questions. In fact, I think we should.
And while we're asking the big questions, we still have to survive the reality sitting in front of us today.
One thing hardship taught me is this: ask for help before the emergency becomes a catastrophe. Don't wait until the account literally says zero before admitting something isn't working. That doesn't mean somebody will always rescue you. They won't. But asking early gives you more options than asking when you've got twelve hours left.
Call somebody. Talk to your landlord. Look into community resources. Find out what assistance exists where you live. Learn your landlord-and-tenant rights. Talk to your bank or creditor before missing the payment rather than after several have piled up. Swallowing your pride for twenty minutes can sometimes buy you the breathing room you need to think clearly.
I also learned something incredibly boring that nobody wants printed on a motivational coffee mug: budgeting actually helps. 😂
I know. Groundbreaking.
But when you've lived close to the edge, knowing exactly where your money is going can reduce some of the fear. Not eliminate it. You can't budget your way out of every income problem, and you certainly can't spreadsheet money that doesn't exist. But knowing what's coming in, what's going out and what can temporarily change gives you information. And information gives you choices.
If all you can put aside is five dollars, start there. I'm not going to tell you five dollars will magically turn into financial freedom, because life doesn't work like a motivational Instagram reel. Five dollars is five dollars. But saving a small amount consistently can begin building the habit of keeping something for your future self.
If you're interested in investing, learn first. Stocks and crypto can rise and fall, so money needed for rent, groceries or emergencies shouldn't be treated like casino chips. Knowledge before excitement. Understand what you're buying and understand that no legitimate investment owes you a weekly profit.
And here's another thing hardship taught me: sometimes you've got to look inside yourself and ask, What can I do that somebody might actually pay me for?
That's where the side hustle comes in.
Maybe you cook something people love. Maybe you sew. Maybe you repair things. Maybe you write, paint, clean, organize, photograph, teach, garden, bake, design or know something useful that somebody else doesn't. It doesn't have to become the next billion-dollar company. Sometimes an extra hundred dollars is simply an extra hundred dollars—and when you're living close to the edge, that can matter.
That's actually part of how I look at Cellphellow, my own entrepreneurial project. It came from creativity, self-care and asking myself what I could build from an idea that belonged to me. It's more than trying to sell something. It's also a reminder to put the phone down once in a while, squeeze the pillow if life is driving you nuts, breathe and remember there is a human being underneath all that financial stress.
Because money stress does something to your mind.
When you're scared about housing, groceries or bills, everything starts feeling urgent. Your brain doesn't politely say, “Cheri, perhaps we should conduct a comprehensive review of our financial strategy.”
Hell no.
Your brain says:
WE'RE SCREWED.
😂
That's why self-care matters even when money is tight. Actually, that's when it may matter most. Go for the walk. Drink the water. Stretch. Sleep when you can. Talk to somebody. Eat as well as your circumstances allow. Get outside. Give your nervous system a few moments when it isn't calculating bills.
Self-care doesn't pay the rent. Let's be clear about that.
But a calmer mind may help you make better decisions about how you're going to pay it.
And maybe that's the biggest thing I've learned from being one paycheck away: don't confuse your financial situation with your worth as a human being. Losing a job doesn't make you worthless. Getting evicted doesn't erase your dignity. Asking for help doesn't mean you've failed. Having twenty dollars in your account doesn't mean you're worth twenty dollars.
I've had moments when life looked like it was collapsing and somehow another door appeared. I've also learned not to sit around waiting for mysterious strangers outside golf-course mansions to solve my problems. 😂 Hope matters, but so does action.
Ask questions. Know your rights. Make the phone call. Build the budget. Save something when you realistically can. Learn before investing. Explore the side hustle. Accept legitimate help when you need it. And above all, don't wait until everything has fallen apart before admitting you're scared.
If you're one paycheck away right now, I can't promise you everything will magically work out. I can tell you that I've stood frighteningly close to that edge myself, and my story didn't end there.
Yours doesn't have to either.
Take care of your money the best you can, but please take care of the human being trying to earn it too.
I'm QueenB.Divine, and I still believe this with everything I've learned along the way:
Self-love and self-care will get you there.
And if you've ever been one paycheck away from losing everything—or somehow found your way back after you did—share your story. Somebody reading it may be sitting exactly where you once sat, wondering if there's still a way forward.
Notice This… Keep Going
If money, habits or the emotional side of spending has been on your mind, continue with ARE YOU BROKE? from the QueenB.Divine digital-read series.
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