I work in one of those fields where real jobs have been converted to contract employment with zero benefits and zero security. When my own job went contract, I spent two years seeking other employment before I realized that the future was here and my only choice was to freelance.

My employer health plan was no longer available. The best private health insurance I could find cost four times my contribution to the health plan my contract status froze me out of, and the coverage was laughably bad. My wife and I debated going without insurance, but decided the risk was too great. A lucky choice—within a year I required surgery to save my life. I've recovered, but the poor coverage resulted in medical bills thousands higher than they would have been under my old health plan. I also missed work, which eradicated that buffer savings recommended by so many financial planners.

I made plenty of mistakes along the way, of course. Poor choices and a lack of knowledge about accounting put me serious arrears on both federal and state taxes. I learned a hard lesson about the value of paying an expert in that one.

Meanwhile, my contract kept shrinking. For a while, I was able to replace income with other contracts, but as the marketplace flooded with the formerly employed, opportunities dried up. My wife's field suffered similar shrinkage, to the point where her income went from a $40K net in 2000 to $3K in 2006. In 2007, faced with no prospects, she took a part time retail job stocking shelves. Because my income was somewhat better, we decided she could go back to school to retrain in a field where work might be available, her Master's degree and several professional accreditations being worth only the heat we might generate by burning the certificates.

One bright spot in all of this was our house. We live in a small but decent place in a walkable urban area. We almost tried to buy the house a few years back, but the peaking market and growing instability in our incomes gave us pause. We decided we were lucky to have a moderate rent in quiet neighborhood.

As our income fell, we shed luxuries. We went from two cars to one, and if not for the need to drive a significant distance several times a week we might have gone to none. We dropped cable, quit spending money on books and music and entertainment. Our income continued to shrink, but at least we were able to make the bills. No savings left, but my wife was three years from a new career if we could hold out.

The biggest problem was the private health insurance plan kept going up in price. When I explored other options, I learned that pre-existing conditions, specifically high blood pressure and that surgery, made me uninsurable. I could keep what I have, or go without.

Then last year happened. Contract work I had lined up for the fall and winter suddenly vanished. One client went out of business. Others cancelled projects. My resumes met with no response. No one was hiring.

Meanwhile, our landlord gave us a sudden choice: buy the house or face a massive rent increase. By statute, of course, the rent can only be increased a certain percent annually, but the choice was simple enough. If we couldn't buy the house, it was going to go on the market, and since he's owned it outright for thirty years, he could price low in a depressed market and still make out very well. The only way to keep it off the market was to accept the rent increase. There are legal avenues we might pursue to fight it, but that requires resources we no longer have.

In investigating places to move, we learned just how good we had it. It's looking like it will make more sense to suck up the rent increase than try to move. One thing we definitely do not have is first and last and a security deposit. But I do still have a few projects, and if we're careful with coupons we can still eat. My wife is doing well at school, and she has that minimum wage retail job.

Oh, wait. No she doesn't. Her position is being eliminated. And the health insurance premium just went up again. My wife and I gritted our teeth and decided we had to risk it. We cancelled the insurance and vowed to be careful.

Two weeks later, I found myself sprawled on my face, a disc ruptured in my back. Two side effects of that are, of course, the medical bills. Maybe that won't be too bad, since I'm saving so much in insurance premiums. But it doesn't matter anyway, because I was unable to work at all for a couple of weeks, and my two biggest remaining contracts had to be moved to other people. Right now I am barely able to walk, have no work, no insurance, and no prospects. I have internet for another three weeks, then that goes when I can't pay that bill. My wife is going to have to quit school and find whatever work there is, and when I get back on my feet I'll do the same. We'll find somewhere to live and do what we can. But that won't be much, because there's nothing left.

Or rather, there's plenty left to make sure the wealthy don't have to hurt too bad. Just not the rest of us. There seemed to be no real problem paying for yesterday's extravagant shindigs.

Lest it seem that I am asking for pity or sympathy, I'm not. Some of these things were beyond my control, but some are the result of my own poor decision-making. I also know I'm far from alone. Mine is just one, all-too-common story.