A substantial portion of our family’s livelihood is derived from federal sources, as both my husband and I are beneficiaries of military retirement pensions, while he continues to serve as a federal civilian employee. The security of our retirement checks remains untouched by the ongoing government shutdown; however, his regular salary, a significant component of our monthly budget, has been suspended. Now, with more than a month—specifically thirty-seven days—without his paycheck, I find myself experiencing a surreal mix of disbelief and cautious determination.
Although our retirement funds and my own employment earnings are enough to sustain our essential expenses, the sudden loss of one income stream has compelled us to reevaluate and fine-tune the way we spend money. Earlier this year, anticipating potential financial instability stirred by discussions of cryptocurrency trends like DOGE and possible cuts in government employment, I had already begun reducing our grocery expenditures. This foresight has proven helpful, but the situation demanded deeper adjustments. My overarching goal has been to create a wider financial cushion—one that not only safeguards our immediate needs but also alleviates the undercurrent of anxiety that accompanies this financial uncertainty.
The first and most tangible measure we implemented was trimming our array of subscription services. Gone are the recurring charges for digital newspapers, streaming platforms, and assorted meal-kit deliveries. I retained only a few that offer clear, practical benefits—for instance, Walmart+, which conveniently provides free access to Paramount+ and reduced fuel prices. The immediate impact of canceling monthly plans is far more noticeable than that of annual subscriptions, though I have also reviewed and discontinued several yearly payments. I admit that if this situation extends longer, I may be caught off guard by a renewal fee I failed to notice—but such surprises are now part of our vigilant financial monitoring.
We have also temporarily halted spending on personal care services, a change that, while minor in the grand scheme, represents a mental shift toward restraint. Haircuts, manicures, and dry cleaning have stopped for the time being. Admittedly, our appearance might become a little less polished, yet I’ve found creative ways to cope—such as covering my gray roots with touch-up spray or, on better days, convincing myself that it simply doesn’t matter. When I realized I was out of body wash, I reached for a beautifully wrapped bar of soap I had received as a holiday gift, reminding myself that small luxuries can be repurposed when necessity calls. It’s not that we have reached a state of deprivation—we can still afford soap—but rather that I have entered a mode of deliberate frugality. I am scrutinizing each purchase, questioning whether it truly serves a purpose, and in some small way, this scrutiny makes me feel empowered—even though I recognize that much of this situation lies beyond my control.
Another critical measure has been placing a firm moratorium on discretionary shopping. We have always been moderate spenders, but now we are tracking every expense down to the smallest Amazon purchase. This heightened awareness has changed the way we approach consumption entirely. Predictably, adversity rarely comes alone: during the third week of the shutdown, one of our household appliances broke. My husband, ever resourceful, managed to repair it himself, though the $200 replacement part still stung. To offset that cost, I curtailed other purchases for the month, which helped balance our overall spending.
We have also taken advantage of a temporary relief program in our state that offers free school breakfasts and lunches to families affected by the shutdown. Under normal circumstances we wouldn’t qualify, but this provision has eased our grocery burden by an estimated twenty-five dollars per week—the amount we would typically allocate for our children’s packed lunches. Initially, I hesitated to apply, but the uncertainty of how long this crisis might persist persuaded me that prudence must sometimes outweigh pride.
Meal planning has become an even greater priority for us. Earlier this year, I began focusing on minimizing food waste and improving organization, an effort that now feels invaluable. I involve my teenagers in the process so they understand our priorities without feeling unfairly burdened. Together, we make thoughtful decisions about treats and impulsive purchases. I’ve learned to rely more on less expensive cuts of meat and to use what we already have in our pantry and freezer. For years, I’ve made a habit of stocking up during sales, and now that foresight allows us to rely on existing supplies with minimal stress.
Despite scaling back in numerous areas, some elements of our family life remain intentionally preserved. Our children’s extracurricular activities continue, as both are dedicated athletes whose sports commitments require regular investment in equipment, coaching, and tournament fees. These programs are not merely recreational; they build discipline and teamwork, shaping skills that will influence their approach to college athletics and beyond. In the same spirit, we chose not to cancel our prepaid winter vacation. The cruise was fully paid for before signs of the shutdown surfaced, and although I sometimes wish the funds were back in our account for added security, we have decided to embrace this trip as an opportunity to rest and reconnect as a family. We have agreed to keep our onboard spending minimal, focusing on the restorative aspects of shared time rather than material indulgence.
Furthermore, we’ve made good use of the collection of gift cards we had unintentionally accumulated over time. They provide a simple way to enjoy an occasional meal out—a small luxury that softens the austerity of our current lifestyle. It was never our intention to save these gift cards for a moment like this, but their availability feels serendipitous, offering us a touch of comfort when most nonessential spending has been curtailed.
Throughout all these efforts, we remain firmly committed to avoiding new debt. We are acutely aware that many families in similar positions do not share our safety net of savings and good credit. The sacrifices we’re making—like postponing beauty treatments or choosing a whole chicken instead of pre-cut meat—are undeniably privileged concerns in comparison to what others are facing. Still, this experience underscores how financial strain can ripple through lives regardless of preparation. Our aim is to navigate this shutdown without accumulating credit card balances we’ll later struggle to pay off or depleting the savings we’ve worked so hard to build. Having emergency reserves is a blessing, yet relying on them unnecessarily would erode the sense of stability we’ve strived to achieve.
In truth, these frugal habits—deleting unused paid apps, repurposing forgotten toiletries from the back of the cupboard, and rediscovering the satisfaction of resourcefulness—are choices I could have made long before the shutdown. But now, they have taken on renewed significance. Each cautious step, each deliberate decision to conserve, reinforces a fragile sense of control in an uncontrollable situation. By leaning into these small yet mindful adjustments, I am doing my utmost to preserve our financial security and, perhaps even more importantly, my peace of mind.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/my-husband-is-not-getting-paid-during-the-government-shutdown-2025-11
