Shawn's Chronic Illness, Injury, And Mental Health Recovery

My name is Shawn Engel. I'm a mental health advocate, an anti-capitalist protestor, and really need your help.

Here’s how I became impoverished ➡️

In 2022, I began to experience the crippling symptoms of a chronic illness. These included seeing stars, dizziness, and nausea, which affected my performance EVERYWHERE.

This was the same year I exited the verbal and emotional abuse cycle of my family and started to heal my lifelong people-pleasing, impulse, and self-hate issues.

I still had my business coaching business, and after its best earning year in 2020, my client base slowly declined due to the pandemic and my clients' financial limitations.

I grossed about 10k that year and had about 15k in an investment account. So going into 2023, I had 25k to protect me. I need 42,000 a year to survive.

2023 came, and my client base disappeared, so I decided to switch gears online to something more aligned with where I was. I was told countless times that where your energy goes, energy flows. But building a new business takes time to develop trust, and during this time, my symptoms were getting worse. I was becoming frantic. I found myself in survival mode.

Towards the end of 2023, when my money was running out, I thought I’d gotten to the bottom of my symptoms when I scheduled a nasal surgery. Up until this point, I was turning down paid appearances because I could barely stand. I applied for government aid, which I didn’t qualify for, and then I turned to my audience for donations.

My surgery healed, and I was still feeling shitty. At this point, I had to find another doctor covered by my insurance, and that doctor was a $50 Uber ride away with no public transport options. This is $100 round trip. But through this, I found out I have asthma, and with a daily inhaler, I started to feel more like myself.

With this newfound energy, I was able to hustle up a few more clients and side gigs to make ends meet, but it is paycheck to paycheck.

2024 comes, and I’m looking for jobs. Realizing that the job market is not very lucrative and that my credentials really aren’t matching up to what employers want, I realize this is going to take a while. I get a royalties check from my books with a few grand in it, and that keeps me afloat until I find something. I’m finally healthy enough to work again.

Then in July, I find a job! Except it wasn’t a job. It was a scam that drained the rest of my money in the bank. See, scammers take advantage of desperate people, so when I desperately signed on for this job, they mailed fraudulent checks for me to cash—and being so desperate, I didn’t see the red flags.

I call one of my last two family members I’m still connected to for help, assistance, advice, anything, and I was immediately shut down and turned away.

The next day, I get a letter saying I’m being sued by my credit card company because I haven’t been able to make payments.

So I try and scrape up funds to get a lawyer to file for bankruptcy. This absolves my debt, and I can start rebuilding. And I need to do that ASAP, so I get a serving job to make ends meet.

Then I broke my leg.

Because I just got the job, I didn’t qualify for disability insurance. So for eight weeks while I was non-weight bearing with no one to help me, I relied on food stamps and delivery services to care for myself.

Because of my inability to leave my home, I wasn’t able to see my doctor when he wanted, so he would only give me one refill of my medication at a time (my inhaler and Zoloft) until he just stopped completely.

This puts immense pressure on me because if I’m not physically or mentally well, I cannot take care of myself. I have zero support.

Now that I’m healthy enough again to pick up shifts, we’ve entered the dead season of the service industry. There are no shifts to pick up, and mine gives me $600 a month.

Because I literally do not make enough to survive, every price hike feels like a stab wound. Today I was charged $3 for my PATH fare instead of $2.75. That may seem insignificant, but that extra $0.25 pushes me into the negative.

I do not have family support. For me, speaking with my parents again to get enough money to get by is the same as dealing with a loan shark. My family’s motto is “never a lender nor a borrower be.” And when asking for help, I’m met with “I don’t want this to be a pattern.”

I don’t either. I hate how it’s shameful to ask for financial assistance, as if it has to do with your character. As if I am a bad, lazy asshole who should have prepared better. This is what late-stage capitalism looks like. The haves, and the have-nots.

I beg of you, if you have someone in your life that is facing financial hardship, don’t make it tougher on them with blame and shame. Hold space for the fact that they were dealt shit circumstances and that it could happen to anyone.

I don’t want to feel like a burden. I’d love to have just a little bit of compassion while I navigate the trauma these last two years have left me with, all while trying to financially support myself with what I can while looking for more. If I am unwell, I can’t do this; I will be homeless.