I make $6.50 an hour. Am I poor?

Here's how I slipped from the middle class into near poverty, and what I'm doing about it.

As a single professional woman, for years I sat securely among the lower rungs of the middle class.

Now I've fallen off the ladder.

In a matter of months, I went from a comfortable life with decent pay and health insurance to a $6.50-an-hour job with no insurance, no furniture and just enough resources to keep the wolf from the door.

I no longer buy anything unless it's absolutely essential. I spend $40 at the supermarket and make it last for more than two weeks. I never turn down a free meal. I've learned to graciously accept money, furniture, elk meat and encouragement from worried friends.

I am no longer proud.

I have no romantic notions about being poor. I'm not nobler than others, and I'm not a victim. But I am one minor medical emergency away from welfare.

Simply put, I'm in survival mode.

Here's my story in a nutshell: I lost my job as a managing editor at a small newspaper in Montana after the ownership changed hands. Six months later, I moved to Pennsylvania to take a similar job. My living arrangements fell through, and as I searched for a rental that would accept my three dogs, I lived in a campground. When it became clear that I'd be a campground dweller for a while, my boss fired me, telling me my living situation was "bad for business." I sold off my household goods -- everything from a sofa to pots and pans -- and drove back to small-town Montana.

I still own a house here. And I have a network of loving friends.

Source:Hindustanis.org