This is a very personal message for anyone who thinks people “on disability” are living the high life.
For 40 years, from the time I was 16 until I was 56, I paid into Social Security through FICA taxes, including the disability insurance program, with money withheld from every paycheck. The promise was simple: if the day came when a serious disability prevented me from continuing to work, that insurance would provide a measure of financial protection by replacing part of my lost income.
I never expected Social Security to provide my entire income or fund my entire retirement. I saved and invested for emergencies and for my future, just as people are encouraged to do. But I also paid for disability insurance through Social Security for four decades. When I eventually became disabled and could no longer work, receiving SSDI was not a handout. It was an earned insurance benefit from a system I had paid into throughout my working life.
Yet there is a tremendous gap between receiving SSDI and having enough money to live on. By the time I pay for Medicare, Part D prescription coverage, and my Medicare supplement, roughly half of my SSDI check is already gone. What remains is not even enough to cover my rent, much less food, utilities, transportation, medications, medical copays, and all the other ordinary expenses of living.
That is why it is so frustrating to hear people talk about SSDI as though disabled people are living comfortably at everyone else’s expense. Disability did not give me an easier life or a free ride. I lost my ability to earn the income I once earned, and the insurance I paid into for 40 years replaces only a fraction of it. Then a substantial portion of that benefit goes right back out the door just to maintain the health coverage I now need more than ever.
Yet there is a tremendous gap between receiving SSDI and having enough money to live on. By the time I pay for Medicare, Part D prescription coverage, and my Medicare supplement, roughly half of my SSDI check is already gone. My SSDI benefits are also subject to federal income tax.
When all is said and done, I have about $900 a month left for everything else: housing, utilities, transportation, food, medications, medical copays, and all the other ordinary expenses of living. Nine hundred dollars would not even cover the cost of renting a single room in someone else’s home in many places. I was fortunate enough to have the foresight and determination to buy a modest home when I was younger and still able to work, so I do not face that particular expense. But how many people could realistically support themselves on $900 a month?
And here is another frustrating part: eligibility for programs such as SNAP is generally based on income before I pay my Medicare premiums, Part D coverage, and Medicare supplement. Those are not frivolous expenses. They are what protect me from potentially devastating medical bills. Yet the money I must spend on health coverage does not simply disappear from the income calculation. On paper, it can look as though I have considerably more disposable income than I actually have. As a result, I do not qualify for SNAP or other forms of assistance that might otherwise help bridge the gap.
I am grateful that the disability insurance I paid into for 40 years was there when I needed it, but SSDI is hardly a financial windfall. I lost my ability to earn a full-time income at the same time that many of the expenses associated with being disabled increased. Receiving SSDI did not make disability financially advantageous. It provided a financial safety net when I could no longer support myself through work, but a safety net and financial security are two very different things.