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Not long into my last relationship, my ex lent me a tenner. It was unsolicited, but I had no money, so I guess there was good reason.

I donated half of it to a Calais refugee relief charity. I didnt really consider how that would go down, and I still don’t really know how it did, but in retrospect that was probably not a standard move.

A few days after I donated, I received word that the supplies I had contributed my new boyfriend’s money to had been stolen. I didn’t donate the rest, but I hovered over the idea for a while.

I notice that the closer I get to destitution, the more willing I am to give my money away. Eager, even. It seems more ridiculous, in those moments, that I should have the fundamental luxuries I have and others should not. Being ‘close to the edge’ as this culture judges it seems to open my eyes to just how far away from the edge I really am, and I have to recalibrate.

I am not close to destitution now. I am modestly comfortable. My finances are the best they’ve been in…well, probably my entire adult life. But I guess the unfolding coronavirus drama has once again reminded me of how very far away from the edge I currently am.

I have direct debits set up to donate 3% of my income to various causes. That’s enough to let me feel okay, but the goal is 10%.

I wonder how it will feel to give that much. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

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