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...