Unpopular Opinion: It's OK To Leave When The Money Runs Out

My savings will last another 12 years. So why can't I die then? How a funky Pap smear result has put my desire to end life when I go broke into perspective.

Hello Creatives,

When we last spoke, it was the horniest day of the year! I would love to hear how that turned out for you. Also, I want to thank you beyond for sending in submissions so quickly after I asked for them just those few days ago. The early writer gets the assignment in this case, because I accepted a great It Happened To Me in record time. Amy sent it at 11:34 AM on Tuesday as I was walking to a gyno appointment. (Side question: why are there promotions for GLP-1 drugs, Botox and Juvéderm in a gynecology office? Does every doctor now need to run a side business in weight loss and face freezing?)

I read Amy’s story on my way, stopping at crosswalks for the most riveting parts – rather than my usual jaywalking, which I have been ticketed and had to pay a fine for but still do. By 12:04, I had confirmed with Amy that I would be publishing the piece and I cannot wait for you to read it here in the next couple of days.

One more item on my highly important personal agenda before we get into this much-more-interesting Unpopular Opinion (also sent to me at Jane@AnotherJanePrattThing.com - try it!). It’s a little dilemma that came up this morning, if you are inclined to help me out with it:

What would you do if someone you had known for many many years, work with currently and consider yourself to have a loving and supportive personal relationship with also, accidentally sent you a text meant for someone else saying about you “Look at how crazy she is!?” with some emojis after to emphasize my true extreme battiness.

I do know that I am not like and operate differently than a lot of other people. I know that we all text things that are not ultimately that meaningful to us - or that we “inadvertently” send a truthful text to the wrong person to get our point across (I will never forget when my friend’s kids’ babysitter texted my friend’s husband “accidentally” to say about the husband, “You can tell he has a huge cock.” She said she meant to text that to her friend. Do we think she was going for a raise or what?) I also know that the text this morning hurt my feelings - and that’s even though I think crazy is a compliment.

Anyway, what would you do in my position? Note that if you give me comebacks, I will use them and be as funny or serious as you think this situation warrants. So don’t hold back. Or if you think I should just ignore it, let me know that too.

And more important, I’m interested to know where you all stand on Alex’s takes in her piece today. Because it is based on the concept of taking her own life, I want to say strongly not to read it if you don’t feel equipped to and that if anyone you know, including you, is having thoughts of suicide or is in a mental health or other crisis, please call, text, or chat with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741. The help I have gotten from hotlines has saved my life (I get into that in my memoir) and they are there to do that for you too.

I sure do love you a lot. And I’ll talk to you more in that comment section that’s like home.

Love always, Jane

At a communications workshop I attended with the Director of the Human Rights Commission in Suva, Fiji in 2024. As the strategic communications advisor for USAID’s Democracy Delivers Initiative, I spent a month in Suva supporting the Pacific Islands Missions.

By Alex Poppe

I know I’m not the only one.

​I am 58, and I lost my job as a USAID contractor during the DOGE cuts eight months ago. Because I was a contractor employed by a third party, I did not receive severance pay. At the same time, the international development sector was eviscerated as federal contracts were cancelled, implementing partners were not paid, and appropriated funding was rescinded. As of September 2025, almost 240,000 jobs have been lost worldwide, many of which were filled by Americans, some of whom are now returning home.

“I weigh moving to a country that costs less, offers affordable health care, and celebrates women who embrace aging.”

Between intermittent gig jobs such as writing genre fiction to train generative AI models or packing boxes for a book publisher for $15 an hour, I drain my savings to keep myself afloat. I toss and turn at night, fearing I will never find meaningful employment again. I have never been married, and I don’t have children, property, a pension, or a 401K. For 30 years of my working life, I made very little money as an actor/waitress (15 years) turned English as a Foreign Language (EFL) teacher (10 years) abroad and contributed to social security accordingly. As old age looms on the horizon, all I can think is, “How f*%@ed am I?”

That’s me doing field reporting in La Guajira, Colombia for the Preemptive Love Coalition in 2022. We brought in potable water for the Wayuu community there.

​There are women-only co-housing communities such as The Bird’s Nest in the US, New Ground in the UK, and the Babayagas’ House in France, set up so women with slim savings can avoid nursing homes and have a sense of community in their later years, but they’re not my vibe. I am a young 58, who still hopes to find romance and partnership with a man. I like going to rock concerts and bars, sticky with live music. I love book launches, political activism, and storytelling. I feel most alive playing with other creatives, making shit.

“Is it ok to kill yourself when your money runs out?”

I weigh being under-employed, which curbs my extracurriculars, and struggling to make ends meet in the US, against moving to another country that costs less, offers affordable health care, and celebrates women who embrace aging with confidence and style.

Me in a white tank with bloody baby feet poking our of my stomach at a Halloween party in Iraq. My costume is Republican Health Care 2016 (this was right before the election. The photo is not for everyone.)

In Seville, Spain, I’ve sipped wine with young, middle-age, and older folks in neighborhood bodegas and danced in bares flamencos until birds tweeted jazz. In cities such as Mexico City, Medellin, or Buenos Aires, I could apply for a residency visa and start a writer’s group, act in a play, or learn how to salsa—simply live for pleasure—until my money ran out. Or, I could set myself in Europe and hop between the EU and Turkey, the Balkans, or the Caucasus [Please note how CORRECTLY that word is spelled! -Jane] to manage Europe’s 90 per 180 visa restriction. Barring a major medical emergency or a stock market collapse, my savings might last for another ten or 12 years. I’d be about 70, but then what? Religion and laws aside, is it okay to kill yourself when your money runs out?