The roots

I've been trying to figure out the roots to why I fear poverty so much.
It's not benefits street or anything modern.
I wondered for a start if it was my great grandmother, who I spent alot of time with as a child. That was her dish.
'Waste not Want not'. Sums her up, or as my mother says, she was tight!
But it wasn't her.
And it wasn't my mum and dad. They always gave me the best they could, though the one toy from childhood that I still have is a ragdoll my mum made me.
So it wasn't them.
In my heart I know what it was. Late 1980's, early 90's. First husband. Interest rates were rising. He left the air force. He wouldn't get a job. Not couldn't, wouldn't. So we had to sell our house. It took 3 months and everything went to pay the mortgage, he tried to do up old cars to sell. We just made it.
Then we had to sleep in bunkbeds, in my old room with our 1 year old daughter. Then in a tiny caravan. We ate veg mainly as that was what I grew. Carrot curry. Seriously.
He still wouldn't find a job. The training he could have paid for by the raf so he could get a job he used staying with his friend in cornwall and surfing, he was supposed to be learning to make surf boards. So we lived on what I could earn. The most was £50 a week. And that included nappies. He wouldn't go on the dole. Because they'd find him work.
I remember sitting with my daughter on my lap, in her last nappy, my legs getting wet, knowing I couldn't afford another pack.
Thats where my fear of poverty comes from. That utter hopelessness of "what do I do, what CAN I do?"
I had to borrow money from my family. Thats what I did. They were there for me and always have been. Lucky.
But that feeling of, what can we eat, how can I make this go further...for my daughters first birthday i made her playdough and a ragdoll. She didn't know it was cheap. She had my old dolls crib and I made her bedding from old clothes. Remade.
We didn't stay together for long after he kept refusing to work. Refusing to support his family.
When we split up the only good thing he could say about me was....
"She made good soup"
So, my roots are in the past, but my fears are for the future. And it'll be ok, because, after all....I CAN make good soup!