What WOULD Jesus do?

 Pardon me.... your crazy is showing. Yeah, I know. My crazy. The crazy I come from. They're not so different, are they? 

So we were talking about how generous my dad was. And how that is how I imagine Jesus to be. Generous. Giving. Sharing. What's mine is yours. But in the midst of this conversation it took a very ungenerous turn. The story was.... some people were begging in a parking lot (like the Walmart parking lot) and the other characters in this story went to explore the situation. Before giving generously of their hard earned money the couple ask the ones in need what they thought of Jesus Christ. But not liking the answer given, the couple decided they would definitely not give of their money to these people. Okay... it's their money, they can do as they please with it. But on the heels of the conversation of Jesus and generosity, it seemed.... wanting. Less than. Not enough. My argument goes something along these lines.... Jesus would just give. No strings attached. He might attach His truth to it. For example, the woman at the well, Jesus says "go and sin no more." But He DIDN'T say, "I'll love you if you go and sin no more...." or "I'll forgive you if...." It wasn't conditional. Of course I think of the parable of the good samaritan who took care of someone who was not like him! Different nationalities and different religions too. He didn't say he'd pay for the poor beaten man's room and care IF.... he just took care of it. It wasn't conditional. I just think Jesus is like that. And I think I'll want to change and be more like Jesus because He's generous with me. He's not conditional. What if we were all more like Jesus and just gave because we could? Would the world be changed? I'm betting so.

The eternal optimist... Dad

 Last night I had a vivid dream about my Dad. We were establishing our own farm on the Suderman ground he loved so much. My Dad. I woke feeling encouraged. Because Gib never got down and stayed down. Not even in the hospital. Maybe at the end, when he knew he was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. But even in the daily fight to beat those little leeches in his brain, he never stayed down.  I didn't understand his plans to fish with Duke and why he was so obsessed. But then I realized it was hope. It gave him a goal. And there was no goal he couldn't reach. Pure positivity and love for life and sheer determination. That was all it took. These are no small things. The more I reflect on all he overcame in his life, the more in awe I am of him. If the only obstacle he'd ever faced was that of his Mom leaving this earth when he was eight years old, that would be enough. But this tragedy set a whole lot of other adverse situations into place for him, from being separated from his siblings when they were farmed out to different relatives that first year or so, living with different aunts and uncles, to then getting a "new Mom" who didn't understand him, to a dad who didn't know how to temper his own sorrow and frustrations. These events being the tip of an iceberg that was his life. 

Why? Why am I obsessed with my Dad's life and trying to figure it out? I guess I believe I'll miraculously find answers to the mixed up mess I call my life too. And I want to know where I come from. You know, in relationships they say that you keep repeating the same thing over and over until you change first. I want to know why I pick the ones I pick and do the things that I do. 

And if we're going down that road... I think I have a good one right now. But it doesn't come natural to me to choose things that are good for me. It's a head decision, not a hormone/heart decision (are these two things really all that different? When we fall "head over heels in love" is it not really a hormone thing? I think so, because it is often something that makes no sense, it's just this overwhelming rush). Which I suppose is also part of adulthood. I know plenty of friends who've gotten a good one by sheer luck and powers beyond their own control. Maybe that has finally happened for me since I've surely prayed for that long enough.

Here I Go Again....

 I have decided I need to be blogging again. But I'm super unenthusiastic about the whole thing. I don't feel like I'm interesting. To myself or anyone else. But I also feel the need to purge a growing surge of emotion. It feels as though I'm slowly coming back to life. I've just been really apathetic and dead inside. and exhausted. all. the. time. But memes on Facebook make me aware that being perpetually exhausted is part of adulthood. zero stars. not a fan. want a refund and to not be an adult anymore. 

It's been three years since my dad died. This floors me. because I miss him and grieve for him every single day of my life. I've decided it's okay to just be sad still. I guess I thought it was time not to be sad all the time? idk. But I realized that a large piece of my depression stems from this deep sadness and that there's no logical ending place to it. I can't make it make sense. I can't will myself to be better. 

Every day I have these giant epiphanies about life growing up and being Gib Suderman's flesh and blood. There may not be any way to express/explain this as it is both huge and trivial at the same time and has to do with my need to be loved, my crazy adolescence, the giant hole in my soul, and so much more. Dad had a hole in his soul too and knowing this explains so much about him to me. The gaping hole he tried to fill with fun (he was a fun guy), with women, with adrenaline rushes (coyote hunting, 4-wheel riding, racing, etc.), with work, with church. My dad was such a compassionate guy. He always told me about this hole in his heart that only I could fill. He also told my kids this. He was big on talking about this. I catch myself saying this to my own kids. 

I completely needed to pound this out and cry as I typed. I feel like there should be more. This is unfinished. But I'm about done. Put a fork in me.

Oh, we surrendered our big dog, Princess, today to the humane society in Newton. So I probably needed to cry that out too. I've been deeply saddened by this today. She needed to go. She has killed two guineas now. One she killed twice. I know that isn't really possible, but just go with it. I snatched that guinea from her and Alice (the little black terrier) and put it in the barn even though I was pretty sure it wouldn't live through the night. It lived. and healed and then that damn dog killed it. again. And more recently she killed our guinea who harassed the chickens tirelessly, and we called him Lucy, short for Lucifer. The thing is, Princess was supposed to be our farm dog that I could take with me everywhere, that didn't have an electronic shock collar, that didn't need to be in the fence. The guard dog. But she mostly lived her life tethered to a cable in the yard because she tried to kill the chickens and guineas. So she didn't get to live the life of privilege. But her and I were pretty bonded. I'm pretty heart-broken that we had to get rid of her. If I wanted to get rid of birds and just keep dogs, she could stay. But the way it stands, she can't stay. We want to have ducks and chickens and guineas. When we got Princess she was severely underweight. And she didn't really know what it was to just be loved. She is still scared of being beaten... we have never beaten her. But when she does something she knows is wrong, she will not come to me (or anyone else) out of fear. She trusted me. I feel rotten for abandoning her at the shelter. And the tears wouldn't come. Until I started talking about my depression and the constant missing of my Dad. I miss him so ridiculously much. 

Just a quick pit stop

 "Get counseling" they say. "There's treatment for that" they say. "There's a special therapy for that" they say. "Bullshit" I say.

I really don't know. I really think there's something stuck in there. Inside. Where the things go round and round in my mind. But I've therapized, and counselized, and group therapied, and dug deep many a time before. And I'm scared. But I've turned into something, someone, I don't like. A dirty someone. Someone who doesn't keep up with the house, who has too many animals, whose house smells like animals, who has trash on the floor, who has more stuff than space to keep it in.

So what's next? Cuz I don't want to live here. But to get "back" from here (ha! back to where? just back from the middle of hell I guess), is a much bigger thing than getting here. And it looks like a long and winding road. Probably full of painful truths. I am real sick of painful truths. 

So is there a way out of here? I suppose that there is. But I'll just re-iterate, there's a lot of fear. And scoffing and disbelief. Which leads back around to hopelessness. and it feels like a vicious cycle.

Random observations.....

"It's normal" they say. The feeling of apathy and of floating through life without a rhyme or reason. What's my purpose? Apparently its common for those of us on disability to feel like we lack a purpose, like we're just being propelled along and living life with no real purpose or meaning. But common or not, it's exhausting and it's real. It's big. It's both quiet and roaring. Sometimes the din of the noise in my head is all-encompassing. But sometimes the deafening sound is just the sound of silence. Nothingness. 

Today my prayer is that I find a purpose and grasp onto it with a vengeance. That I don't feel directionless and floating.

Random thought of the day.... I never ever thought I'd feel victorious when I pay my own energy bill. But every time I am able to pay my own Evergy bill, I feel powerful. I feel like I just won. I never thought this would be privilege of adulthood that I would revere. But boy does it feel like a victory every time I have paid this bill after almost a year of relying on the goodness of others to pay it for me. Paying bills is a mundane privilege and to call it a privilege is just an annoying term for obligation. But today, I know that the ability to pay bills can fall outside the scope of things inside my control. And it's no longer just a hum-drum obligation, but a privilege of adulting that I've taken for granted and now know can be lost just as easily as being obtainable. Today I'm grateful for the mundane act of paying bills.

 

Once Upon A Time there was a Mom and a Punkin....

 As a parent, there are things that are hard to explain to the outside world. But when the Punky was about eight years old, she became very aware that I was the only person she had. That if something would happen to me, she couldn't just go to live with her dad. Her dad wasn't in her life. She didn't know him. And she shouldn't go to live with grandparents. I had asked my friends to be godparents should something ever happen. But never went to court to make it official. Whatever the reason, the reality set in on her and she became extremely aware of how she needed me and that she had no one else. This fed into a huge fear, a fear of abandonment. And impending doom, the feeling that she was going to be abandoned. 

This didn't always present itself in a rational way. Well, it seldom or never did. Fears like this present in unlovely ways. It led to a lot of haggling, fighting, confrontational disagreements. These situations built to levels that were volatile. As a person with plenty of pent of anger and rage myself, and not wanting to unleash these on my children, and this child in particular, I sometimes felt the need to distance myself, to get out of the middle of situations that were teetering on uncontrollable, volatile outbursts. 

Leaving was not successful for me in that The Punkin would follow me to the car, pulling on my body and begging me not to leave her. Telling her, "Punk, I'm going to hit you or hurt you, I HAVE to leave...." did not calm her or help her understand. As time passed and more resources were poured into us, parent advocates would coach me to be sure to tell her, "I am not abandoning you and I WILL be back." At times, this was helpful. 

Calling a time out where we separated in the same vicinity did not work either. The fear and abandonment issues just continued to boil over in my child. She would "break into" my room or wherever my time out area was. I put a locking door on my bedroom in an effort to have a safe place to retreat to when conflicts became explosive. But the Punkin Seed would bang on the door, screaming and crying, and carrying on about how she needed me and to please just open the door. 

This is a scary and sad part of my daughter's childhood. This is a failure and all-consuming heartbreak in my life. The fears and confrontations continued throughout middle school and high school years. The sense of being needed and being overwhelmed and a sense of no relief in sight trailed on for years. As a parent, I became less and less capable to care for my precious girl. But every conflict piled onto previous conflicts and craziness of our life and instantly shot up to the level of hopeless. 

At this time I was still teaching and learning more and more all the time about students who live with trauma and how many kids live with an emotional baseline that is fearfully close to fight and flight levels. These children can go from 0 to 60 in 2.5 seconds on the crisis scale. And I know that this student is my kid. As time passed, "these children" were also me. I was continually just seconds aware from not being able to control my emotions. 

This bled into my professional life and tore me down. It led to constant and continual exhaustion. Exhaustion that was physical, psychological, emotional and mental. 

As a parent, all I can do is pray my kids know I love them; grow to be happy, functional adults; and be there to help them grow. to teach them how to be the best humans they could be. This is what I imagine every parent feels and hopes for their kids. 

The haunting comes when I know that for all my hopes for my kiddo, I am at the heart of the implosion and the explosions. That I was incapable to being the loving, calm, well-adjusted parent I desired to be. That I was part of the problem. It wasn't a situation I knew how to extract myself from. It was overwhelmingly hopeless for me.

This is where I end for today. I have spit out my heart, the story, or at least an outline of a story, in an effort to continue with being transparent and being willing to expose my shortcomings in order to heal and become the person I know that I am.... a good mother, a good teacher, a good friend, a contributing member of society. 

More will be revealed.... 

I knew that light wasn't a train!

 Remember how very recently I said that there's progress on my disability, even if it's ever so slight? It's done! And I got it! There is so much that I don't know yet, but the website did tell me this, my first direct deposit onto my debit card will come April 8. Friends, the best part of this to me that I can share with you, is that it comes in time to pay our Evergy bill! I can't tell you what a mixed bag it is to have to rely on others to pay the bills. On the one hand, it feels like love when someone pays your bills. But on another level, it's a burden, a give that I can never repay and it wears me down. Being a mooch. *sigh* My excitement about getting benefits is multi-faceted, but this is the piece I can't hold in and have to share right now. I'll be able to pay my own energy bill in April! It is an empowering feeling!! 

Every Little Step is Progress....

 Today I logged in to the SS website and my disability case is in step 4, final review process, which usually takes 2-4 weeks. I am ecstatic because my progress has been stuck for SO LONG, in step three, and step 3 of the reconsideration was estimated to take 2-5 months, and that started on August 24th. So longer than 5 months. I have been so stuck in frustration and stagnation. 

But life goes on and good things are happening here. 

Before I get too far off base, I have to stop and say thank you. Thank you for prayers, for help, for caring, for still reading this blog that has gotten a bit sour. Thank you. I am so grateful for the people who send their positive energy, say prayers to God above, send love, stay in touch and care for us in big and small ways. Thank you for constantly and consistently reminding me that I'm loved. You are a big piece of why I haven't completely given up.

We still don't know how we're going to do this thing called life and we still covet your support. But Jadyn is working at (and loving her job at) Home Depot. She works part time and averages around 25 hours a week. She maxes out her body physically doing this. But the positive is that she loves it, we're gaining on nerve and muscle pain management, and we're still working with a doctor to continue pain management. These are gains in her health. We are also striving to incorporate more foods that are in an anti-inflammatory diet and cutting out foods that lead to more inflammation. This is not easy, but we are gaining. Jadyn hopes to go full time at some time and one thing we're excited about the hope of taking care of ourselves and not relying on the goodness of our loved ones and friends. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We have to pace ourselves and not overdo and it's still hard. We want to run wild! 

My knees are getting steadily better. Today I woke up with stiff knees and noticed a little bit of hobbling, but most days I have little limp and hobble. I have to be careful. It never ceases to amaze me that I wear out faster than I "should" and that long stints of standing are overwhelming. Too much movement is wearing. But lack of those, is also wearing. It is just part of healing and I need to continue to remind myself that it just takes time. and more time. But I am moving forward. I am looking toward fall and see myself teaching again (praying things fall into place for this).

Currently I'm working on renewing my teaching license, getting license renewal submitted, getting fingerprints and filing this all. 

We're working on getting eggs in the incubator. I'll go check the humidity level when I finish typing this. Once the humidity level is where it needs to be, I'll put duck eggs in and set the countdown for 28 days. We have materials to finish out chicken and duck pens in the barn and we'll be set to have all our birds in reasonably sized pens for night, with ducks and chickens (and geese) free-ranging during the days. 

Another next step for me, will be to get garden vegetables planted and started in the house. We have a good start on some rich compost dirt for our garden. 

These things feel like good progress. But here comes some really great things.... 

Carrie got a car!!!!! I have been given a car, a 2006 Pontiac Grand Am, with title in hand and ready to drive. I cannot contain my excitement about this. 

We have the parts to fix Jadyn's car. We cannot find the one and only key. So we are looking into next steps to obtain a key to move on and get this done! 

I also got a phone. My phone was so sick, so close to dead. Sometimes it would turn on and sometimes it wouldn't. Sometimes I could make a call, but most times not. I have a few two-step verification accounts (one of them being the Social Security Disability site) that involve sending a code to my phone. Sometimes it would take more than 10 minutes to successfully retrieve these codes and they would be expired by then. So for 2 weeks or so I've had a WORKING phone and I'm SO grateful. My sweetheart bought this for me and I couldn't be more grateful. 

So much goodness happening.... 

Still stuck in that holding pattern, but there's movement!! Yay! 

Thank you again for reading, for responding, for helping, for staying on the journey with us. 

Still going....

 Or should I say.... still waiting. But I haven't quit. So I guess I'm going. Everyday I think it will be the magic day that there's movement on my disability account, but it never happens. 

On the home front.... 

• No cards are moving. I don't know if they've just lost their novelty or I changed something in promoting them. I'm not really asking you to tell me, I am just banging out a process on the keyboard. I really enjoy adding sentiment to cards, but mostly I leave them blank for the purchaser to fill in to meet their needs. Lately though, some little quips have been floating through my head as I design. So I figure it's time to start making cards with specific purposes, even if they are just humorous. I have this chicken I drew and it kind of looks like she's dancing, and I keep thinking.... "Henny Penny didn't want to be chicken, she didn't want to be a duck, she just wanted to shake her butt...." so that will be getting added to that one soon. 
• I'm collecting duck eggs to put in the incubator. Soon we'll be adding even more mixed up babies to our eclectic barnyard mix of ducks. Duck eggs incubate for 28 days. I have 15 eggs collected and am wanting between 20-25 to load up the incubator. That is only a matter of days. Or maybe even today. As I forgot to gather eggs yesterday. There could be as many as 8 eggs waiting for me when I go to let the ducks and geese out into the yard. 
• I'm trying to figure out what to do in my bathroom to finish it. Jadyn bought the paint and my friend Ed has offered mud and tape. So now to get the wall patched up, the shower frame finished and get my ass in gear.
• I found a job I'm interested in. Hmmmm. There's a whole mess with finding a job, juggling transportation with the already working member of this household, and the whole "we didn't have liability insurance at the time...." ordeal. 
  

That's about it here. I'll add a slide about ways to help.

Here is the amazon wish list for art supplies.

Here is a wish list of farm supplies we could use help with. 

This is the mundane, the every day, what's happenin' at the Hippie Chick Farm.... 

Trudging the road...

 A few things.... 

a few days ago I reached the big 3-5 years of sobriety. I still have a morbid fear of that first drink. And what all it would take away from me. I teared up at the holidays thinking of the hell I put loved ones through when I was still drinking. My drinking career was short. About 5 years. But I broke a lot of trust and lied and cheated and took advantage and tore down and fell down and descended into hell. 

One thing sobriety didn't bring was instant maturity. I was not suddenly able to realize that I was the creator of my destiny. All sorts of things that happened to me were not my fault. In fact, pretty much nothing was my fault and everything either "just happened to me" or was someone else's fault. You know people like that? They are not fun people to hang out with. Kinda pathetic. And that was me. 

And it is me. This is deeply ingrained into who I am. And I've been on the path to overcoming this for 35 years. I'm not there yet. But I'm making progress. I practice daily. Attempting to take responsibility for where I am and what is my responsibility and letting the rest go.

Cuz the other thing is that I take on blame for all of it. Even the stuff that actually isn't mine to own. And woe is me... I suck and so does my life.... wah, wah, wah.... 

So I have to practice letting go also. It's not all mine to own actually. 

I am preparing to enter the world of work again. Education in particular. I'd love to jump back in. But there's more than just me to consider right now. A kid, without a license, with a job, and needing to get there and back. A couple years ago I would have said, "tough shit kiddo, the mom is getting a job..." but now she's 18 and contributing to the household. She's not holding tight to the ideal of "it's mine" in regards to her check, she helps. A lot. So I have to look at this from the angle to two contributors doing the best that they can to see things through on this little farm and the need for win-win and work-together-ness. Oh boy. This is a hard curve for me. 

And I'm still waiting. For disability. It still says I'm in step 3 of 5 of reconsideration. I keep waiting for it to be at 5. It said this would take 3-5 months and the reconsideration date was August 24, 2022. So we have GOT to be at the end, somewhere soon. Sooner than later. 

I'm living on a minimum of resources. Food stamps. Kan-Care insurance and a measly amount of child support monthly. But going back to work.... it has to replace these things. Think about this. Will we actually be able to make it? Will I find something with insurance? I need to have insurance and to clear enough to replace $500/month in food stamps. Not to mention we'd really love to have trash service, gas money, vehicle maintenance money (insurance, oil changes, etc.), money to pay our own evergy bill, and homeowners insurance. Crap. That seems like a lot. Like it's insurmountable. Grrrr. 

God has promised me over and over and over that He'll take care of me and mine. But I'm looking for transition back to the world of the living and it feels tenuous and precarious. And so, as ever, we're still stuck in a holding pattern.... waiting. 

Tom Petty said the waiting is the hardest part. He ain't a lyin'.

Forecasting 100% chance of Fog....

 My brain is full of fog. Hazy. Messy. Lots of interference. 100% chance of fuzzy brain. 

So here I sit trying to muddle through, still believing, that tapping it out on the keyboard, sharing my muddled, befuddled brain with you, will somehow lift me out of this mire. But it's lost... beyond the fog. 

My give a shit.... it's there, just beyond that hazy, foggy brain. My drive and ambition.... just beyond the fog. Creativity.... past the fog. Reason and clarity.... lost in the fog. 

I am still grateful. Practicing gratitude. It has become habit. For this I'm grateful. But the emotion, the feeling of gratitude, is also lost in the fog. The joy. It's there. But it's out in the fog. 

Apathy. I have that in spades. It's larger than the joy. Larger than the melancholy. Larger than my gratitude. Larger than my creative gene. 

Apathy. Looming large. Rolling in on the fog. Clouding up my judgment. 

New Beginnings, clean slates....

 I'm SOOOOO in need of a clean slate/new beginning. I'm so glad that New Year's brings this. I know I am capable of starting over any time, any day, any hour. But there's something symbolic about the new year, something magical and powerful. And I'm ready. 

I'm ready not to be a puddle of disabled crippledness. I'm ready to be a contributing citizen, a capable human. I'm ready for renewal of spirit and mind as well as body. Not that my body doesn't need it, it most assuredly does. Today I attempted yoga. and I had the privilege to get to be informed by my body just how far we have to go to get mobility back, and just how impaired my range of motion still is. It was eye-opening for certain. 

Then there's the whole disability fiasco. You know me. Did I listen to others when they said how difficult it is to get disability? nope. I was the exception. because of course, I'm me. And I was actually disabled. So why wouldn't I get it. Ha! I don't have a final determination yet. I have lost paperwork. Which I might add I really have to practice letting go of resentment here. If you know me, you know I am not the world's best at meeting deadlines and getting things turned in in a timely fashion. But paperwork was received on a Monday, due back on that coming Friday and I had it in the mail on Thursday. Folks, for me, that is extremely timely. So the fact that the disability office never received it is annoying. Now I am filling it out again. But knowing that I qualify according to the qualifications of someone who will be disabled for 12 months or more, and knowing that they are not really looking at that qualifying marker, is really disheartening. The first denial said I should be able to return to work by November 1st. I don't know what kind of job they think I'd be qualified to do, but I was quite cripped up yet on November 1st. Ugh. 

So my frustration lives on.

I am trying to plan my future. Because I am no longer confident that just because I was actually disabled and met the qualifications laid out by SS disability that I will actually get it. But I'm overwhelmed, frustrated and discouraged. 

However, there is a little hope laced in there. 

I have hope that I'll continue to gain range of motion and general mobility. I already limp less than I have for the last two years of my life. I am still slow. And stiff. My knees are often still stiff and don't want to loosen up much. 

But trying to gauge what I am capable of REALISTICALLY, not according to the powers that determine disability, is tough. It's scary. Overwhelming. 

I am starting to dream of Kindergarten. Because I am in love with those little people and we need more Kinder teachers who love Kindergarten, Kinders, and Kinder parents. Teachers who know that little Suzy and Johnny will learn to read, and that it's okay that not everyone learns at the same pace. That learning is supposed to be fun and is meant to be celebrated. That these babies are worth all the extra hours. What if I could get my body and mind in shape before school starts again in August? Because I obviously cannot get there by this week or next. And recovering from knee replacement does take time. Duh. That's why they say it takes 12-18 months. But it's easy to forget this, because the doctors themselves act like I should be whizzing along doing all I could do before I fell prey to osteoarthritis. Then when I bring it up, they suddenly remind me that it can take up to 18 months to recover. Really? Because just 30 seconds ago you acted like I should be able to lead Kinders backwards down the hall and not trip, keeping a crisp walking pace. Yes, the teacher needs eyes in the back of her head, because one necessary skill is walking, leading a line, and facing your precious subjects, as you move toward wherever you are going, guiding little bodies to learn to keep hands to themselves, keep quiet in the hall, keep feet to theirselves and still follow behind the person directly in front of them.

But anyway.... 

there is a some hope interlaced with this clean slate of 2023. Hope that I'll cease to be disabled, according to ME, to what my body can ACTUALLY do, not just what disability says I can do. Hope that I won't be stuck in limbo.

Folks, I have a dilemma that needs it's own blog post. But I'm asking you to send good vibes and prayers about something that would make my life immeasurably easier/better, and seems like an insurmountable mountain. Please take that extra 30 seconds and hold my need near and dear. It does make a difference. It always does. 

Here are the way to help: