December News

The month of December is upon us, and the bills are getting paid, which is the first source of good news.
The second is my dad's on his way back to PA after months in Detroit. I will get to see him on Thursday, I believe. I'm anxious about it.
Next good news, mom, dad and Nate are coming here, due to arrive after midnight on December 25th! What a Christmas surprise for the kids, awakening to Santa's loot and Nana. Oh, the joy of it all.
Additionally, we volunteered yesterday and today at the Presbyterian church in Sparta, packing food for the hungry with PeopleHelp. It was quite an experience, both humbling and awe-inspiring. The kids were with us Sunday evening, we went back alone this afternoon and did a bit more.
Then, we went to the Blessed Kateri church and got our Christmas gifts from them. They sponsored us, and the gifts were lovely. The kids got some very nice things, and the presents they got John and I were just what we asked for.
Going back a bit, Joshua's play was Friday and was a tremendous success. He did wonderfully. Kathleen was there, and some volunteers from IHN, mostly just to see their own kids.
Kathy took the kids out on Sunday to shop for gifts for John and I. I remarked to John that evening as they wrapped their surprises, I didn't hear them bicker or shout once in nearly an hour, and they were all three in a room together. Truly a gift, there.
Saturday was my Christmas party given by Shop Rite, or Ronetco, rather, for employees with kids. It was at the very posh Perona Farms. It was quite an affair, and the kids received nice gifts, sat on Santa's sleigh with him for a photo and we had a delicious breakfast. There was face painting and sand art, a train and characters of all sorts, like Dora, Scooby and Marvin the Martian. There was a DJ, complete with four alien dancers, and a full wait staff seeing to all our needs.
In closing, I've been filled with appreciation for the family this week, with gratitude for the grace and mercy of God, with love and with light. With a sense of competence and with a feeling that it's all going to be good.

Make Committments. Have Dreams.

I've made a new commitment. I do the dishes. Every night before bed, no matter how tired, how late it is. No matter how many there are, or aren't. I do the dishes. I haven't tried to hold anyone else to this standard. I haven't spoken it aloud. I just quietly do the dishes every day. When I feel I need it, I ask for help. Sometimes I ask someone else to do them. But every day I make sure they get done. I have yet to sweep the floor. With all the moving something is constantly getting dragged through here, so it seems irrelevant. The laundry is piled up. Not majorly, but a little bit. But the sink is clear and wiped out daily. Amen.
I find myself dressed in a favorite style this afternoon, hair freshly washed and dried and wearing the scarf I made and love. The sky is clear and it's brisk. I park my car across the street from the post office and put a quarter in the meter. I use the crosswalk, even though it means walking a few extra yards. I walk with my shoulders back, my head up and a smile on my face, and I think to myself as I do that I am a shining example of God's work. A joy to behold, I imagine the people in their cars looking at me with happiness, as my good mood must be infectious. Today is a good day.
I got a call today saying that someone had donated a turkey dinner and all the trimmings to our family, and a Christmas tree and all the decorations for it as well. I picked it up, and as I was leaving the director of IHN came out to my Jeep and said that the board had read my thank you letter and was so impressed by it that they wanted to enclose it in their holiday letter. Of course, I said yes, so she asked me to come in and sign it. Not an anonymous letter, it will actually be what I wanted it to be, which is a thank you to anyone who supports this program. I am thrilled. This preceded the trip to the post office, so it explains my good mood, but only in part. I have been sent a messenger.
I believe that if we are open to it, we can converse with God. This means different things to each of us. And it differs from situation to situation. So I think God has been sending me angels and now a message. I hear you. I can do your bidding and do it with a smile. Thank you God, thank you God. Every thing is perfect. Every lesson, just the one I need. We have more than enough of everything. Love, good health, empathy, comraderie, work, money, health, shelter, food, knowledge, purpose, friends, comforts, warmth, everything. And clarity. I see so much more every day. Every single thing I need to see is being revealed to me.
Thank you God, for giving me the strength and the will to commit myself to doing better, being better. Thank you for the ability to dream despite all circumstances. Thank you for grace.

Thank You

This is a letter I'm sending out to IHN today, and asking it be forwarded to all the churches, either by e-mail or snail mail.

To the entire staff at IHN, and to the countless volunteers, seen and unseen, who support this organization,

Thank you.
Thank you for the things you did to help us get where we are today. Today my family woke up in our home. I can't tell you exactly how it felt. 'Amazing' doesn't scratch the surface of the myriad of emotions we feel; 'joy' isn't providing the depth.
Thank you for everything you did to support us, to uplift us, to give us strength.
Thank you for every prayer, every thought, every wish.
Thank you for giving us solid ground, so that we could stand on our own.
Thank you for giving up your own comfortable bed, for giving up your comfort zone, for giving of yourself.
Thank you for teaching the world, one step at a time, that we are all responsible for one another, without conditions.
Thank you for the gifts, material and otherwise, that made us feel less like refugees and more like guests.
Thank you for sticking up for us when we couldn't do it for ourselves, for making sure we felt safe and had the things we needed to maintain our dignity.
Thank you for seeing us through the frustration and fear that caused us to lash out, to get angry or withdraw.
Thank you for understanding us when we barely understood ourselves.
Thank you for not tying strings to your empathy, your compassion, or your love.
Thank you for helping us find God when we may have otherwise lost our way.
Thank you for being there when we needed you the most, and for making it seem like no big deal, when really, it was monumental.
Thank you for providing us with a safe haven, a place where we didn't have to keep our kids under us at all times for fear of what might happen if we didn't, for so much more than the word 'shelter' implies.
Thank you for the meals that brought us nourishment and a sense of community.
Thank you for the counsel, for letting us be vulnerable, for talking with us, not at us.
Thank you for the hugs, the smiles, the talks long into the night.
Thank you for being friends in a place where we thought we hadn't any.
Thank you for going the extra mile, for doing the things most people only think they should do, and for doing it selflessly.

Although we may not remember every name or face we encountered, we will never in our lives forget that God showed his face to us in each one of you this fall. We have been given a glimpse of the God that we were created in the image of, and we are forever changed because of it.
With much love and heartfelt thanks,
Jennifer Randazzo and family

Work First Meeting

Today was the big day, the showdown with the worker who has been harassing us for weeks, threatening to sanction us. We left as soon as possible, dropping the kids off at school at 7:30 for breakfast and hitting the road immediately. I didn't go the way I should have, and driving was difficult in a downpour during morning rush. We made it there just in the nick of time, and when we finally saw the woman I was disarmed by how VERY pleasant she was. It was insane. We had had such a hard time with her by email and phone. She gave us all the info we needed and I was happy to discover that if I complete the program, which amounts to a full year of funds in the form of cash and food stamps now, dwindling as I work more and earn more, and then work for four consecutive months after, I will be eligible for a $4000 grant for school. It can't be used to pay off school debt, but on future schooling. It seems very likely that I will be able to finish at least a two year degree mostly free of cost to me, if not completely. I'm thrilled about that. I need to get moving on it.
The funny thing is the worker actually seemed to be discouraging me from going to school at first. She said she thought it was, and I quote, 'noble of me to want to try it' but that I had to be very careful not to lose my focus, which was working so that I could keep my benefits. Then she tested me. She was a compulsive talker and at the mathematical section of the test she was so blown away watching me test that she couldn't keep from talking to me while I was testing, telling me she couldn't believe how fast I was completing the test. I was doing two and three column multiplication and division without scrap paper at times, and I don't think she'd ever seen something like that before. I scored perfectly, 100%, which she said she had never seen anyone do before, let alone in that time. The test only went up to a ninth grade proficiency, so I wasn't doing rocket science or nuclear physics, just basic math. It helped that I had just tested for a Chase Personal Banker position, which consisted of many fairly difficult math problems, and I feel I did very well on that test, so I was already warmed up and feeling sharp. Rar.
So at any rate, the work first is taken care of for a while. I don't think we'll hear from her again for a while, and she says as long as I keep faxing her my pay stubs, she'll keep sending me checks for transportation expenses, six bucks a day. I have a check for $72 coming already. I like that!
I did get a hold of another apartment today and it sounds promising, but by the time Carrie came in today to discuss the grant I had to leave for work. I'm going to try to get her tomorrow, and then see the new apartment on Thursday at three o'clock. I hope we get some calls back from some more of these people. I'd like more choices than two.
The situation in the shelter has degenerated quickly. We have gotten two new families, one a young woman named Sarah and a baby that I have yet to see. She says the baby is with her aunt. Then there is a family with a two year old boy. Today the four adults other than John and I spent all day sitting at the kitchen table, bullshitting and talking. I ate standing up, because we aren't allowed to eat anywhere else but the kitchen, and no one offered to move. Then after the girls came home from school, the conversation turned to shop lifting, and how to do it, and how it's gotten more and more difficult to steal, and such. I went into Carrie's office, whose door they were sitting outside of, talking loudly, and pointed out that I didn't find it appropriate conversation for my kids to be hearing. I should have mentioned that the kids usually do their homework and have a snack there, but there was no room for them today. After she told them to change the subject, they all went outside to smoke. It's time to get out of here, regardless of how small the place is we go to, or how much it costs me to keep it up. I can't stay here much longer. It's gotten to be an unsavory atmosphere, which I had anticipated, and have been grateful hasn't been the case all along.

Faith, Hope and Love

I had a bad day yesterday and decided I had to get out of here, no matter what. I decided to go look at apartments and flats. I told the case worker at IHN that I was going to do it, and she seemed very negative about it. She asked me if I'd done the paperwork, meaning figured out how much money I need and put it up against what I'm making. I said no, that I was just going to look, but that I intended to get out of here. She still seemed apprehensive at best. The program director came in then and said that there was new grant money coming in on Tuesday the 27th, and that we were to be eligible for it. She can offer to pay a portion of our rent. I can really move out of here now. I've already saved $1000.00 and have three different sources of funding for the security deposit. This would actually be a fourth.
I'm so hopeful and excited. I probably should be afraid something may fall through, so that it doesn't hurt as much if it does, but I can't do it. It's just not in my nature to be guarded. And I really believe it's going to happen soon. I don't even care what kind of place it is, as long as it is my own place and I can sleep in my own bed again. I hope to have a bunch more news soon. Tuesday is also the day we go to Social Services and have a showdown with my worker. I plan to have nothing but good news that day. Now I just have to find a second job...

I Shouldn't Have Even Turned The Computer ONNNN....

And yet, I just got off work, and I'm wound up. And sleeping on that crappy bed I can only stay asleep for a few hours anyway. It's kind of like when the only available food is junk, and you're so hungry you decline to eat it, knowing it will only make you want real food even more. When you need nourishment, you don't want to eat McDonald's. You want Shepherd's Pie or Meatloaf the way mom makes it, with spinach inside and slices of cheese...
That is exactly how I feel about sleeping right now. I need to sleep in. No 'until', just I N. As long as I want. In my own bed. In my skin, and clean sheets, and nothing else. You cannot possibly understand this need until you've lived for months in a shelter, sleeping on an air mattress. A twin, at 5'8" weighing in at 230 lbs. I have a crick in my back, right between my shoulder blades, that I swear will never go away. Yoga and a hot pack don't even make a dent. And don't get me started on the constant moving of shit, the hustling back and forth, back and forth, back and forth from one place to another with all our earthly posessions. It's making me redefine 'necessity'.
I ain't complaining. I have food, shelter and an address that allowed me to enroll my kids in school, in a teriffic district, I might add. I have a job. In a short time I've saved nearly a thousand dollars.
What's keeping me here is that I can't keep up with monthly expenses. John's still to sick to work. Indefinitely. However, we don't seem to be getting disability. Certainly not in the form of pay, but not even a consideration from Social Services. They sent him a form, to be filled out by his doctor, and said if he didn't get it filled out, they'd sanction us. Cut off our benefits, in other words. We got it filled out and sent it in, but they still seem about to sanction us. They insist we drive an hour into another county in New Jersey to be evaluated. I have a job, he has a medical pardon from working, but they still require our attendance to their three ring circus. So on the 27th, we go. What's on the line is the $552 in cash they give us monthly to support 5 people- this was when we had zero income, and our less than seven hundred dollars in food stamps. So instead of just cutting into the benefits because I'm working, they may take them away altogether because he's SICK. He's sick. There's the joke. We're living below most peoples' standards by a long shot, but we're still taking too much.
But there's a bright side to every situation. Today it's that I didn't get locked out of the shelter. Monday night when I came home, I was locked out. When I asked the volunteers why they didn't wait up or leave a door unlocked they couldn't say anything coherent. Well, we weren't sure what time you'd come in... So after your long day and a drive to a place you'd only been once before in the daylight, we locked you out and went happily to bed. Oh God, if you're there, it's me Schatz. Please let John come out of his medication-induced coma and hear the phone, because it's freezing out here and I don't want to have to kick the door until I wake up the kids. And WHAT IS THAT NOISE?? The whole time I'm trying not to panic about being locked out there is something loudly rustling about in the woods behind me. I had just seen my first black bear the day before, running as fast as my car.
So this night, my husband put his ass in a sling and unlocked a door he shouldn't have to be sure they didn't lock me out again... And there was a man waiting up for me on a tiny, white, wicker loveseat in the basement. I actually felt bad until he told me the door was locked and he'd have heard me knock and opened it for me. Sheesh. This is the safest place I've ever been, and yet they are completely obsessed with locking the doors. Bleh.
We have stayed at:
Sparta United Methodist 9/1-9/6
Frankford Plains United Methodist 9/6-9/13
Newton United Methodist 9/13-9/20
Branchville United Methodist 9/20-9/27
Sparta United Methodist 9/27-10/04
Sparta Presbyterian 10/04-10/18
St. Mary's Episcopalean 10/11-10/18
Sussex Presbyterian 10/18-10/25
And the thing that I'm looking forward to the most is that we're back at Sparta United Methodist for two weeks straight in the beginning of November. I love those people. They say the first cut is the deepest, so maybe that's why. Maybe because the night we came into the shelter they broke bread with us, treating us like we were their esteemed guest, not homeless people. The conversations were interesting, enlightening, uplifting. They talked about how there were some among the volunteers who had lost their jobs, taken in their children, seen friends lose homes. They made sure we knew that they SAW us. They loved us when we couldn't even accept ourselves. They made sure we were on the road to success by affirming it. By praying and counseling and sharing of themselves. There have been kind people at every church. It's not the same as the seeing, the knowing. Some churches have provided us with shelter and food, but have made sure we know that there are rules to make sure we don't get too comfortable and forget that this isn't our home, and some churches are downright rude, coming into our rooms and badgering us about things. God's servants often have baggage of their own; people in this program come in all types, all mindsets, all levels of functionality. And people come and go. When we got here it was Laurie and her four year old son Alexx. Then there was Dele, David age 9 and Mary age 6, who were telling different stories all the time about where they had come from, how they ended up here. They didn't stay too long, maybe 10 days. Sarah had Mary in her class, and was immeasurably relieved when she moved to another county. Sad, that my child felt so threatened by this girl. But she did. She said she yelled at her all the time. It was near enough to the truth that we had started keeping the kids in their room, or staying with them at all times. Since then we have Diane, who is 55 and repeatedly tells the same story, the erasing of her life by her asshole husband who ran off with another woman. Mostly I stay silent, but occasionally I lose my cool and tell her there are choices for all of us in life, and we aren't forced to be victims. Today a new family arrived. A woman, a man and a two year old boy. I don't even know their names yet, I've been at work, gratefully, all night. I work most of the next week, too. I'm thankful to not have to be here while they settle in. It's an awkward process, and can be painful. I'm just grateful she isn't the woman who said, 'beep beep' to me today in lieu of 'excuse me'. She was trying to get out the kitchen door, and I was in her way. I thought she was the new woman, and that unnerved me. This one may be worse, or may be better. It all remains to be seen.
Every day a van picks us up at 7 a.m., with the exception of Saturday, when we stay at the church all day, and Sunday, which is moving day. At one o'clock the van comes with a trailer if there are a lot of us, and they move us to 'the next church'. On weekdays we get bussed back to the 'day center', which is the nonprofit office where there is a living room with a small t.v. but no couches, only straightback chairs, and a kitchen with a toaster oven and microwave, but no stove. There's one weird bathroom. We all have to get showered in one day, nine of us. I understand this place can house up to fourteen. I wonder how? The van only holds 10 of us. They restrict our useage of our cars. There have been many churches where we couldn't see the logic of it, but we weren't allowed to bring our cars. That was when John had a panic attack coupled with depression so crushing that the staff of IHN decided he needed to go to the hospital, where he agreed to be admitted. I don't think they've told us we couldn't have our cars again since then. It helps that I got a job, but I sometimes still get disapproving looks from Patti, whom I've come to love very much over these 8 weeks.
So now, having purged all this, I'm tired enough to sleep on rocks if I had to, and I will go happily to my air mattress and sheets that reek of bleach. Happily. It seems like a miracle that I can say that with no sarcasm. I am happy here. I believe God is working miracles in us right now. I have come to believe in miracles again because of Interfaith Hospitality Network. I caught myself wondering the other day if there really was a Santa Clause. Yes, I believe there is...

Jobs Jobs Jobs

All of a sudden, it seems like there are jobs cropping up everywhere. Today I am applying for these three:
Postal Carrier
H & R Block Tax Preparer
Bank Teller (with Chase Bank)
So far I have finished the USPS one, and it's after an hour and a half of gnashing my teeth. Good grief! It was not user friendly. So now it's laundry time, and then there will be the application for the other two jobs. Bleh. Then what? It's in the 70's today! After snow that stayed on the ground for a day last week... This is some nutty weather.

Wednesday

I'm overrun with song lyrics this morning. Well, the frost is on the pumpkin, and the hay is in the barn, bridges are for burning, so don't you let that yearning pass you by....
I had to scrape the windows this morning and the weather report says 50's all week, dipping down to upper 40's in Northern Jersey. Geez, winter comes quick. I missed fall, I think.
And then, it's Wednesday. This is the way we wash our clothes, wash our clothes, wash our clothes, so early Wednesday morning. It's half price on twenty pound washers at Sonic Suds, which means I can do a family of five's laundry for under $15 but I have to be here early and be prepared to jockey for washers.
It's a good day. I'm all done washing and have about half an hour of dry and fold ahead of me and it's only 8:30 a.m. Yee ha. I'm kickin' ass and takin' names, blogging and enjoying the rush of that first good cup of tea, even though I'm at the tail end of it. By the time I get it all folded and bagged and dragged into the car I will be tuckered out enough to nap with any luck. I did the dumb thing of drinking a Monster Java at work last night on my break at 8:15, so at one a.m. I was still surfing the web instead of my ocean of dreams.
I'm feeling more and more like a writer as I get older. I hope someday I can actually call this my profession, because I really love it. I genuinely enjoy writing. Now if I can just get paid to do it.
It's Wednesday. It should be the beginning of my work week, but because I got called in last night, I'm now looking down the barrel of closing yesterday, today and tomorrow, followed by opening Friday and Saturday. I am not opening Sunday as I have the last two. I've asked politely not to be scheduled to open on Sundays. We'll see. I'm optimistic as it all begins. I find that work is a healthy, welcome distraction.
I have been fixated on the word precipice. Last night what I realized was what I'm trying to convey is the Fool in the Tarot deck. I can strongly identify with that fool in me. I am on a precipice, a threshold. I am not sure what lies ahead, but I know it has to be different from the past to make all this tribulation valid.

LOVE BIG

I got called in to work today. As soon as I said yes, I thought why did I do that?? But I said yes, so I went. What a really great night! We talked all night about books, music, 'firsts', as in first concert, first car, first accident in said car, etc. It was so nice to not be here with my frustration wrapped around me like a scarf. I feel like it's literally strangling me sometimes. I spent the whole day with my husband. I don't think we said two words to one another that weren't necessary. He seems perfectly capable of laughing and making small talk with other people, he's only too depressed for everything when I'm around. I need a professional who is well trained to deal with depression to talk to. I don't know how to break out of this cycle where I am the one he seems to need to show how depressed he is. And as a consequence, I feel like he's just lazy. He is perfectly capable when it suits him, and totally helpless when it's something I usually do but can't or won't do and he has to pick up the slack. And the refusal to work!! He is talking about how he can't work and he needs time to recuperate from being sick, but he hasn't worked more than twenty hours a week in nearly two years. How much longer is this supposed to go on before I loose my mind from the stress? And then who will pick up my slack? And what I'm really asking myself here is what happens if it doesn't get better? I am committed to this marriage, but I feel at times like he's trying to drive me off so that he'll have more reason to feel sorry for himself. I feel very trapped at times, like I'm playing out a kite that just keeps using more and more line, until I can't even see the damn thing anymore, all I have is the end of the line and I just keep pulling it, trying to hang on to it. And I ask myself, 'For what?' What is the purpose of the struggle? If I genuinely believed he wanted to get better it would be one thing, but at times I think he REALLY doesn't want to. I feel like I'm chasing my tail a lot. What is the essential set of ingredients that make a healthy relationship? When does a marriage stop being a marriage and start being a pity party? I know I'm still sick. I know I confuse love with many things, including but not limited to pity, sex, comfort, and just not leaving. Not leaving someone isn't loving them. SO WHAT IS???
It's funny in a strange way when I think about how we were raised in very similar environments, but came out so completely different because of one type of behavior our mothers exhibited. His taught him helplessness, and mine was infallible. His was only capable of doing 'mom things' like cleaning and sewing, and I wonder how well she did that stuff. I know she resented it. And my mom is like Macgyver. She can do anything, she'll just bitch the whole time about how she shouldn't have to do it, and how she wouldn't have to if the people who should be doing it weren't so lazy/stupid/incompetent, ET CETERA.
Anyway, I digress. I was supposed to be writing about how much I love my life. I do. I do I do I DO. It's almost inconceivable, that at this point in time, living the way I am that I would feel so good but I do. It's absolutely bizarre, but I feel very secure and totally at peace with the surroundings and the situation I'm in. I've met the most remarkable people and seen and done things I never imagined I would. Tomorrow I'm going to prepare the material for my 'speech'. I've been asked to speak to the teens who will be sleeping outdoors in a Box City to help them understand homelessness. I'm STOKED. lol
I love my friends, too. I'm so grateful for everyone in my life, the new and the old. I've made some amazing new acquaintances, a few of which will turn into friends, I'm sure of it. And of course, the oldies but goodies, the people who have seen me through it before and always love me despite my flaws and shortcomings. Having those kind of good people have helped me believe that I have an intrinsic value, a worth that isn't based in currency, career, activity or physical form. It's truly my soul that makes me so valued and loved, even with it's human nature laid bare and my worst defect of character. Thank you God for each of them, and they all know who they are.
Recently read: Mr. Timothy (in the middle of it now) by Louis Bayard. Previously Black and Blue by Anna Quindlen and Backroads by Tawni O'Dell, both on Oprah's book list. Old, but good. Tragic and painful, but revealing. I intend to read a Dean Koontz book next, if it holds my attention. We'll see about that.

These Dreams of You

The night before last I slept fitfully, at best. I awoke over and over again as the night wore on. Every time I woke, it was with the feeling that I had lost the only thing in the universe that mattered. I wasn't sure what it was, or how I had acquired it, but that I had lost it. I felt panicky, desperate, frantic. I needed to find it, but I didn't even know what it WAS. And then I'd wake up enough to realize that I had been dreaming, just a dream. But as I sat there in the dark I could not shake the feeling that it wasn't 'just a dream', that it was the most real thing that had ever happened to me. Did I blog about the fish dream? I'll have to go back and check. The dream dictionary says, of dreaming of fish:
The water represents the deepest level of unconsciousness, and fish ideas darting through, and in the dream I was trying to lift the (idea) fish out of the water and hand it to someone on the bank. It leapt back into the river with me.
What was this idea, pulled from the depths of my unconsciousness, that escaped me, or didn't get handed to the right person? What am I trying to tell myself?
In this dream of loss, I felt the thing I'd lost had cost me much, and the dream dictionary I use says that often money represents spiritual knowledge.
I'm seeking you, God. I feel like I've counted to 1,087,387,944, which is how many seconds old I am. Ready or not, here I come.

I've Been Itching to Write Since Last Night

I've been itching to write since last night, and now that it's here for the typing, I'm drawing a blank. All I can think about is playing FarmVille on fb. Ugh. This modern age is good and frustrating, all at once. I need to have less distractions at times, other times, I want to be distracted. Sheesh. My dreams have been strange and prophetic lately. I don't know what to make of it, but I dreamed of my friend Joe in Washington state. In the dream he had a plastic shopping bag full of items. He was rummaging through it, looking for I don't know what, but one of the items was a gun. I kept nagging him to give it to me, give it to me, it's going to go off. Finally he did, and I unloaded it.
The following day I told John about it. I looked it up in a dream dictionary. Freud is obsessed with the penis, so of course the interpretation was that I was seeking to demasculinize him. Is that even a word? So John's interpretation of that was that I was trying to prevent him from procreating. I disagree. I think Joe would make a great father.
The day after that, Joe posts on facebook that he's going to the gun range with some friends to play with guns. Holy cows. Then he says he may buy a gun. I say what kind? I tell him about the dreams and we marvel over synchronicity. The gun is a Taurus. That's my sign. There's that thing again. He's on the far west coast and I'm not too far from the eastern seaboard. Still, somehow connected. I love Joe Joe. He's a life long friend, no matter distance, years, whatever. I like that.
I figured out the problem, by the way. It's the sound of people droning on in the background, complaining and rehashing the same issues over and over again. Oy. I find that it clouds my thought processes and I'm so thankful for noise cancelling headphones! And Janis Joplin, Carly Simon and Tracy Chapman. I have a nice Chix Mix going here. I need some Indigo Girls.... I'm going after it. Have a great day, world.

Normal Is Only a Setting on the Washer.

Man, if that's not the truth, I don't know what is. What a load of boloney we've all been fed for years. So anyway, today we met with a group called Circles. They were discussing getting jobs. The resume, the interview, what to say, what NOT to say, et cetera. Enlightening in a couple of areas, but mostly stuff I already knew. (i. e. don't say I had problems with my supervisor when asked why you quit your last job. EVEN IF IT'S TRUE!!) lol
So it was interesting and the church it met in is even more interesting. There's a cemetery all around the back end of it. As in, no exaggeration, there are tombstones less than ten feet from doorways and at one point a handicap ramp goes nearly over top of a headstone! WOW!! Please don't let anyone build anything over my final resting place. Better yet, scatter my ashes in a river. Zoinks.
Anyway, that's my excitement for the day. I hope it stays this peaceful and quiet.
Namaste.

NAMI

Last night John and the kids and I went to a meeting of the National Alliance on Mental Illness. I heard a man named Ira Minot speak. It was a remarkable story, touching and inspiring. We talked at length about ourselves there, as well. The kids went with us and were good as gold. I am so grateful for them.
John talked about his mental illness, and me about mine. I talked about ACA and how I intend to start a group here. I think many of these people would like to attend. I think I've found a wealth of resources.
Mental illness has taken on a new face in my mind in the last few years. I realize now that many of the people I thought were sane, solid pillars of society just aren't, and vice versa. People I once would have labeled nuts I see are clearly operating with insight and integrity. They're just speaking their truth.
Life it good, as always. I love the way things come to me, seemingly through an interoffice mail system that supports the universe. It's good to feel like you're in the loop. Ha ha.

Susan

I met a social worker named Susan a few weeks back, and had the pleasure of having dinner with her again last night. I have a raging case of PMS, so dinner wasn't actually the pleasurable part. Her children, my children and another family's children, plus the chatter of the three couples was just too much for me. PMS for me translates into, in addition to the extreme bitchiness we all know and love, near migrane grade headaches. I was irritated beyond my ability to socialize. I was doing my best. But then, later in the evening as she said goodbye, we started to talk. Hours later, as we stood saying the final, different, 'real' goodbye, after her kids had thanked me for keeping her talking, we talked about yesterday's blog. The tiredness, and my ability to see that if I had let it have the best of me, like I have so many times in the past, I would only have set John back in his climb out of the hole that has swallowed him, and I, consequently, would have felt like shit about it. She looked a little amazed and said that I was right, that I had said it just right, and that I was smart. Then she said, 'You should have been a social worker.'
Lost in my own thoughts lately of what I can do with my life, now that I recognize that it is indeed my life, I smiled a wry smile and said, 'I should have done a lot of things.' She apologized profusely, saying that she hadn't meant to blah blah blah, just like a social worker, and I laughed and tried to explain that it wasn't taken that way, and that I've just spent a lot of time recently trying to determine what I would be good at, could do lifelong, use to support my family and be proud of all at the same time.
Sometimes I think back to a class I had with Mrs. Lusa in junior high. Some kind of social studies class where we had to act out a courtroom scene based on this set of circumstances and facts. I was the attorney and in the midst of an argument the person I was arguing against, a boy named Matt, I think, with dirty dishwater blond hair in a bowl cut, stopped acting and said with awe, 'You should really be a lawyer some day.' The audience nodded in unison, and I realized then that I could be anything I wanted to in other people's eyes, but in my own I was still my mother's stupid, lazy, incompetent mistake. I could not reconcile, at that age, the outward view of me with my inner view. Now I wonder as I grow emotionally, away from home for the second time in my 34 years, will I come out from under the shadow and bloom, or do I still fear the light? Is it possible there is no other shoe to fall? I believe in myself now, but the habitual self destruction still lurks in me like the Loch Ness Monster. No one seems to believe in it, but I've seen it rear it's head, terrifying and beautiful. It is the defense mechanism. It's what kept me alive and functioning in my totally disfunctional family as a kid. Those days, as they say, are gone. Now what will I do? Thank you, Susan, for reminding me there is more in me than I am always able or willing to see.

Jesus, What's Wrong With Us All?

How do I get myself out of this reality? I would ask God to take me out if I didn't have kids. I feel like it's not something I would do if I was God: Let someone leave early on Saturday night if they're work wasn't all done. My work's not all done. I don't presume to have the omniscient wisdom to know when it is. God does, I trust that. But I feel so tired sometimes that I just want to sleep forever.
Don't mistake this thread of my thoughts for suicidal thoughts. It sure ain't. I'm just done with this Matrix-like reality. This Buddhist hell-on-earth. Everyone is so sick. And I feel it in me. It's in my mind, my spirit, my body. I have spent more than half my brief existence on this planet pursuing self-help, spirituality, healing, enlightenment, truth. I still feel so faulty, so flawed. I still react when I know I shouldn't. I still pop off at the mouth. I still feel frustrated and put upon.
This morning was different, though. I was able to hold my tongue. I may have been thinking and feeling like a martyr, but I was silent. I didn't say any of the poor, poor, poor me things I was thinking. And I realized afterward I was TIRED. Dog tired. And that makes me: a) slightly delusional b) vulnerable and c) disconnected from the Source, unable to feel the tremendous power we all have access to.
So I drove my son to school this morning crying hot, fat tears for the first time in weeks. I've been wondering where the tears are for a while. I haven't been allowing myself the luxury of sadness. I've been busy being stoic.
Strong.
What a load of baloney. That kind of strong is the kind that breaks down on us when we need it most. When we're tired to the bone and have used up all the resources our pathetic physical bodies have. This body is fallible. It's our minds, our Spirit, our SOUL. The real truth of us lives in a place that is neither here nor there and is safe from the chemical imbalance that is depression, or whatever it is that's killing my husband.
I cannot convince him that doctors and pills won't really help him. I've stopped trying, at least for today. All I can do is feed my own soul, feel my own tears and feel God. I know that I have an infinite amount of strength when I accept that this physical disease may choke the life out of him, but it doesn't prevent me from seeing him as God sees him, seeing more in him than his sullen responses, seeing more than the work I have to do to keep us all moving. No one bites the hand that feeds them and feels free at the same time. I recognize that he has me confused with someone else. He thinks I'm responsible somehow for his pain. Maybe I'm just close at hand, easy to lash out at. I'm familiar with that idea.
I hate depression. I have had quite enough of bipolar disorder, hypomania, major depression. I can hate the diseases, and still love the people who have been told they have them, have come to consider themselves sick. I think we're all sick if that translates into spiritually wounded in some way. It happens when we're so young, and it goes on and on through life. We're convinced we are flawed and broken so early on. I'm retraining my brain to believe that I have control over me and nothing else. I have no control over society, the medical community, my husband, his illness, the person who cuts me off in traffic, my boss, or any of the many other people, situations and things that seem designed to vex me.
I am determined to make a better life for me and mine. I'm convinced love is the solution, no matter what the problem. I believe that Pastor Robin was on to something when she sat down with the smallest members of the church last Sunday and told them they were all 'members of God's club'. I don't think me and mine refers to the annoying girl who just doesn't seem to get it but still wants to be part of the conversation. It applies to my best friend, for whom I'd do almost anything. It refers to the woman in the Wal-Mart parking lot who chewed me out the other day for driving in a way she didn't like and it includes fanatics, racists, thieves and liars. It's not an excuse, or a free pass. It simply says we all come from the Source. If you've got a strong connection to it, then use it to see that people who don't aren't fundamentally bad or unworthy of your empathy. On the contrary, they deserve it, they need it even more. Haven't we all lived in grace, experienced mercy and the compassion of strangers when we seemed least worthy?
So, thus I answer my own question, stated in the title of this blog, "Jesus, what's wrong with us all?"

Oh, what the hell...

I am recovering. I'm not too sure from what, exactly, but I know I am making progress. Where I'm headed is also a mystery. I know, I know. I feel like life is a ball of yarn I'm just supposed to keep unraveling until I get to the center. How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop? The world may never know....
I am so frustrated with the things that are going on in my life lately. I feel very dissatisfied with my work, but I feel like it would not be very prudent of me to quit a 'good job' in 'this economy'. I want to be home getting things done in the house, but then when I'm here for more than an hour I get so frustrated that I'm yelling and throwing things. I won't lie to myself, there is a serious problem here. My question is what the heck is the solution?
As my soul becomes more open and my mind more elevated, I feel and see things I didn't see before. I feel very connected to my intuition in some matters, but in this, I feel like indecision has paralyzed me. I don't know what the right decision is. And I'm having a hard time even clearing my mind enough to give it any consideration.
Tick tock, tick tock. To make matters worse I'm running out of time. I have to make a choice, one way or another, and I have to make it soon. So what gives? Where has my intuition gone to, just when I need it the most? I don't know but I feel so stifled that it's no real surprise that I don't have any answers for myself.
I love music, writing, reading, singing. I love teaching and art and cooking. I love to lie around and watch movies with the family all day long. I love helping people. I love history. I love fishing and camping. I know there are a thousand more things I could add to this list. But at this very moment I feel heavy and smothered in hate. Frustration seems to have stolen my ability to beiieve in love or beauty or happiness. Dang it. I'm going to try to sleep it off.
The next time I write I'll try to remember to write about giving it to God, and teaching children something you never learned yourself.

I (heart) Blogging

I love blogging. I love all types of writing, but I have a special place in my heart for the blog. So why don't I do it more often? I'm a good writer, and I know it. I feel like it's such a wasted talent in me of late. I wish I could just flip a switch and get back in touch with the writer hiding in me. I am trying... welcome to my blog. I hope to see you here again real soon.

Opening wider isn't as easy as it sounds.

It's been a long time since I posted, and nearly as long since I journaled. I fell into that trap where I feel like all I do is work. I know it's a conscious choice, though, and not just a time crunch. I know that I have to choose the things I love over the things I don't love, and give my time back to myself. So this morning, even though it's looking down the barrel of a ticking clock, I am writing.
I've started taking a class at Unity focused on the book 'The Third Jesus' by Deepak Chopra. It's very interesting and is challenging the way I think about Jesus and religion in general. More to come there.
I think as I open in one area of my life I close just a bit in another. I think I am seeing now that the trick is to remain open in all areas, just a little if it's all we can manage, and then stay conscious in all those places (spending, judgement, forgiveness, discipline, tolerance, etc.) while you open just a bit wider in one area. Then when it's comfortable there, a bit more somewhere else. So I'm focusing on conscious driving and conscious working right now. They're both so hard. They're so automatic, so ingrained already. Wish me light.