Why I hate the "occupy" protests.

Gather round the fire kids, while I tell you a true tale. It begins with a young 25 year old woman sitting on a park bench, wiping her tear-filled eyes. She had just come out of a bad breakup. She didn't have a job, and didn't have a place to call home. She had credit card debt, student loans, and an outstanding bill for emergency oral surgery performed during a time of no health insurance coverage. Her family was upset with her for the choices she had been making, and she had really messed up her most important friendship. She felt lost, broke, and a little hopeless.

6 1/2 years ago that was me, and I was in a bad place.

It was one of the most challenging times of my life, but I was able to pull out of it. In some sense I was lucky - my mom let me sleep on her living room floor during that rough patch, and she made sure I had food to eat. But it wasn't easy; the stipulation was that I needed to be looking for a job all day long with the goal being to get a job as soon as possible. I also had to sign up to work part-time for a temp agency so that I had a little bit of money coming in to keep my car payment, insurance, and cell phone current. I'm not going to lie - it sucked big time. My temp job consisted of cold calling companies trying to sell them crap, and I hated every minute of it.

After 6 weeks of sleeping on my mom's floor and job searching, I got a full-time job offer in the city. It wasn't amazing, but it was something. It paid $13.65 to start and included benefits. I had to move two hours south so I could start my new job. For housing I rented a room in a rooming house near the University. It was not a nice place - there were 14 people living in the house sharing 1 kitchen and 3 bathrooms. I had a 10 ft by 12 ft bedroom with a padlock on the door. That room was my own space, at the price of $300 a month. The first month I was there I slept on the hardwood floor while I waited for a friend to deliver me an old bed. A co-worker gave me an old TV. I had to hang sheets over my window since I learned (after moving in) that the house right next door was a halfway house for sex-offenders.

I lived there for 4 months, and then I was able to find 3 girls on craigs.list that were searching for a roommate nearby. It was an OK house, and my portion of the rent was $375 a month. Did I want to live alone in a nicer place? Sure, but I lived where I could afford. I rarely ate out, didn't own a smart phone, didn't wear designer clothes, or travel. I had an old laptop computer from college that broke during that time, and I couldn't afford to fix it or buy a new one; I was left checking my email at work, or the library, or on friend's computers. Nothing was "handed" to me and I had to work hard and live simply during that time. 6 months into my job, I was given a raise to $14.50 an hour, and another year and a half later I was promoted and given a much higher professional salary after I had proved my worth as an employee.

My life is better now and I no longer have to scrape to get by or constantly worry about money. I have my husband to thank for helping me and for providing for our family. He works hard so that we can have a pretty good life. But I know that life can change. Particularly recently when Mr.P was very sick, the thoughts of what would happen to us financially crossed my mind. I would never expect the government to step in and rescue me. Sure we have life insurance, but that would not make me rich. Realistically, if (God forbid) something were to happen to Mr.P, the life insurance would only be enough to keep us in our current lifestyle for 4 years. It's a sobering thought, but I also know that if we had to I would get a job and move us into a more affordable living situation, and I probably wouldn't drive a BMW anymore.

Entitlement has become so pervasive to our culture. It makes me sad and worried for my own children, and it makes me determined more than ever to bring them up so that they value a dollar and understand the process of working for what they have. These people throwing a fit in the occupy demonstrations seem to want so much, and with little effort put forth on their part. I've never agreed with the idea of protesting, I feel like it's a bunch of grown toddlers throwing tantrums out there. When did it become OK for people to behave this way?

The last line of the Star Spangled Banner sings "The land of the free, and the home of the brave!" My message to you protesters in the occupy demonstrations: The freedom this country has given you allows you to make choices. Use that freedom, and be brave, as you go out and chart your own destiny. Get a job, pay your student loans (I know I still am) and make choices that will move you upwards. Don't expect anyone to bail you out, and work hard for the things you want in life.