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Welcome to everyone’s favorite game: What Pissed Niki Off Today? Apparently, it’s this. Again. Surprise? Meh.

I’m currently outside this morning, walking my dog, and dictating this into my phone like the friendly neighborhood weirdo that I am. Like the rest of you, I’ve been inundated on social media and in the news with talk about the possible interruption of EBT/SNAP. That means millions of people could go hungry: the elderly, children, the disabled, people working their butts off just to afford to exist and feed their families.

I pay taxes like everybody else, and I’m happy for my money to help feed people who need it. Please — take it. You know why? Because I’ve been there.

I’ve used social services. I’ve used SNAP here in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I’ve used our local food network, SCCAP. I’ve donated. I’ve even volunteered, teaching women how to read and helping them with their GED exams. That was my way of giving back to a system that helped me.

When I moved to Gettysburg, I was escaping an abusive relationship—a marriage I never should have been in, honestly. I left everything. I knew I’d be in a rough spot financially, but I had to save my life. I wasn’t ready to die, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to let that vile specimen of a human decide my fate. So I left Baltimore and landed in Gettysburg. I was lucky. I had help from my mom, but she couldn’t do everything. I applied for SNAP-what some call EBT-in Pennsylvania. It was an arduous journey, but I was determined to make it through.

So I left Baltimore and landed in Gettysburg. I was lucky. I had help from my mom, but she couldn’t do everything. I applied for SNAP — what some call EBT — in Pennsylvania.

There were applications, meetings, and more paperwork than you’d believe. They checked my bank accounts (including PayPal), job records, and food and medicine expenses. Every change in my income or job had to be reported immediately. If I went above the allowed amount, the benefits were gone. No grace period.

I remember the first time I walked into a grocery store with my little plastic green-and-blue ACCESS card. Back then, you had to tell the cashier you were using SNAP. And over the time I had it, I remember the looks—the comments, the conversations. It wasn’t using the card that was embarrassing; it was how people reacted. If you’ve ever been on food stamps, you know the look: pity, judgment, condescension. But what they didn’t see was the relief and gratitude I felt every time I swiped that card, knowing it was helping me put food on the table.

I like to think the benefits I paid for in Maryland helped someone else, and I’m glad for that. Now, I don’t need it—I’ve gotten back on my feet. But that took time, and along the way, my body fell apart. New diagnoses, new challenges. Now I build my business around my needs — physical, mental, and emotional.

I’m still on Medicaid, which I pay into with my taxes, and it lets me get therapy so I can keep healing from trauma.

I wouldn’t have made it without these programs. The only shame I ever felt came from other people, never from using the help I needed.

So when this administration threatens to cut off SNAP benefits, especially around the holidays, it feels cruel. And cruelty is the point. They want us hungry, tired, beaten down, too exhausted to fight back or help each other. But I know, from experience, that these programs matter. And I’ll keep talking about it, because I know that sharing our personal stories is a powerful tool in influencing public opinion. Someone else out there needs to hear it, and I’m here to share my story.

And let’s be real: the people who get weird about SNAP are often the ones who say, “I’m fine paying for it, but…” But what? But you want to police who’s “worthy” of eating? The facts are clear: less than 1% of recipients commit fraud, and when it does occur, it’s quickly identified. The system is already invasive — every account, every dollar, every job checked and double-checked. You don’t just coast by; you’re in a constant state of proving your need, over and over again.

Most folks using SNAP are working. Or they’re disabled, elderly, kids, expectant moms, caretakers. Foster parents use SNAP to help feed the children in their care. “Lazy” people who don’t want to work? That’s a myth. If you’re able, at least here in PA, you’re sent through job training and constant check-ins. If you can’t work, you fight a mountain of paperwork to prove it — and the moment your situation changes, so do your benefits.

And those who rant about “illegal aliens” or “drug users” using SNAP — let’s clear that up, too. First, no human is illegal, especially not on stolen land. Undocumented people can’t get benefits — they pay into a system they can’t even use. And in places that tried drug testing (hello, Florida), they spent more money on the tests than was “saved” — and found less than 1% actually failed. All that, just to add another layer of shame.

And even if a person is struggling with addiction, don’t they deserve to eat? Who gets to decide who is worthy of food? Putting moral conditions on survival is, frankly, weird. In PA if you make $70,000 a year, about 1.5% from your taxes goes into the federal budget for food assistance programs. That’s it. Is your comfort worth more than someone else’s life?

This isn’t a debate about “deserving.” It’s about humanity. It’s about the right to exist, to recover, to get back up again. I’m grateful for the help I got. I’ll never be ashamed. And if talking about it helps one more person get fed, or feel less alone, or say “yes” to the help they need — then I’ll keep talking.

If you’re pissed off too, good. Maybe that anger can feed a little compassion, or spark a little action. We need more of both.

Take care of each other. There’s enough food — and enough kindness — to go around.