Today is the day

 

Today is the day.... 

Hearing this inside my head gets me into a Dr. Seuss kind of rhythm, all kind of Seussy thoughts follow that beginning. 

Of course it all starts with "today is the day, you're well on your way...." and then takes off them there. Today is the day: "that I will clean my room;" "do the dishes;" "work outside;" "make some more wood signs;" and the list goes on. Generally by the time the sing-song-Seussical swirling thoughts subside I am exhausted. I might push myself to do SOMETHING (anything) creative. And right now what is easy is making fun little greeting cards. So I do that with some regularity. 

Today is the day to really turn this emotional, energetically charged, spiritual tide. That's what has been on my mind the most. Good things happen. to me. often. But I'm still drowning in loneliness, fear, ANXIETY, and discontent. I had the most beautiful and amazingly awesome night Wednesday night. For one thing, I saw a friend that I haven't seen for awhile and I did that really bizarre thing.... church. I go for the food, let's be honest. The food and to have one night that has some human interaction. I am not downplaying the significant conversations and friendships I have with my dogs, cats, ducks and one of the chickens. We chat. All. The. Time. Because hey. They understand me. They are my friends. And I live out here where they rule the world. But some human interaction is good for me. So I've gone to a Wednesday church dinner. Twice. These are the people who help me with groceries and getting things from the store and so much more. And lets be honest, I have no comfort zone right now, but if I did, this would be it. 

Let me rephrase. I have comfort in solace. I am alone. And I take comfort in it. My daughter lives with me, and our relationship is better than ever. But I am still alone. It wouldn't really matter how many people lived here. I'd be alone. Because that is the deepest part of me. Alone. Lonely. Unable to reach the other side. The more people-ey side. It is a piece of who I am. It is melancholy at best and a raging beast of sorrow and suffering at it's worst. But always there. And sometimes it is the warm shit-blanket that I comfort myself with. Sometimes it just is. And sometimes it is barley noticeable. but always there.

The loneliness can overtake me and I think it could in some lifetime gain the power to be fatal. But it is also just there to motivate. to make me say.... "today is the day... to overcome this stagnancy, this feeling of stalling out, this...." 

Oh, I got lost. Back to Wednesday. to church. to amazing freedom when I had a moment of freedom from this current situation. I went to church and I talked to God, and He to me. That is always good. Not always happy. But always good. And then I received an email (I know, I know.... don't check your email in church...). It said, "your evergy payment has posted." And you know what? It was an amount that covered my entire bill for this month. The bill that must be paid by the 15th or I'm in deep doo-doo. That one. And this HUGE (I mean H.U.G.E.) boulder came off my shoulders and I was free... free to laugh, free of worry and fretting. Free. It felt SOOOOOO good. 

But there is much to stew about and not that much to rejoice about. So it was short-lived. This freedom. But let's face it. I need to let go of more worry, focus on more good stuff, and live in the freedom. Allow it to transform my heart, to overcome the fear. So here I go, because today is the day. Today. Me. I will try freedom today and I'll enjoy any and every second. if it kills me. But it won't.

Who knew that there is a facebook group called "dance in the sun"? Or a page? Not sure, but that is where I found this picture and it made me happy and I'm now a follower. 

Having Little or No resources = being poor

 Today I'm speechless about my financial state. It sucks to be so poor. And if you know me, you know that I am never speechless. Never. But I guess what I mean today is that I want to say something and the words and that thoughts get all jumbled up and the attempts to articulate sound something like this, "Uh, I mean, urgh, blah, blippety, well shit! I can't even talk!" Like I'm tripping over my tongue and it gets all tangled up until I find my words, curse words, and then I try again. *sigh*

It's deadline time again. And we are up against a larger evergy bill this month than last month. Maybe because all these fans are tired. Or maybe because of 100º days, day after miserable summer day. I don't know but I'm scared. I'm tired of fighting to keep me head above water. I hate this. I know the government does this intentionally. Drives those of us who really NEED social security and disability to the point of no return and forces us to give in and work when we are far less than capable or forces us to go without luxuries such as electricity and running water and trash service. It's both humbling and humiliating. I am looking at the possibility of going without more of those luxuries. This is maddening and frightening. In specific, I am in danger of losing my electricity. Evergy/Westar needs $448 by the 15th or my payment agreement will be considered defaulted on and then I'll owe over $1000 with no grace and no payment agreement option. 

Today is the day to pick up that 1000 pound telephone and make calls to resources. This is exhausting just to think about. The truth is, if I don't accomplish this by a certain time of day, I am too tired from all the fear and anxiety to actually do it. Anxiety and depression are crippling. And this system we have in America is not actually for the working class American, but that is an entire rant all unto itself. 

Begging. Not my favorite. Going without electricity.... terrifying.

Birth Day Reflections....

 Today is the day. The day I was born. More than half a century ago! Whoa! This day is a complete cluster for me. There is a whole melancholy thing that happens that no one can fix. Quips of "just celebrate yourself!" sound so cliché. Included in these cliches are things like.... "just forgive yourself already" and "you are worth it" and "but you're a good person!" Blah. There is that part. Now, there is also the whole holiday let down thing that happens when you have really high expectations of something and reality cannot live up to the hype. I have that to deal with also. Because in case you don't know, my dad was the party guy. He LOVED a good party. You know, once upon a time ago, he was a party guy, heavy drinker, etc. But that was lifetimes ago. For most of my life, party meant any large gathering of people. My dad was a "the-more-the-merrier" guy. Ha! Even in the hospital as he languished, he'd say things like, "I'm super! All of you are here just to see me, I am doing great...." I didn't recognize this for a long time, but my dad, he was really incredible at practicing gratitude. He was so content and grateful with whatever life handed him. "It is a beautiful day." "God is so good." "Would you look at that sunset?!" "Oh, my girls are here, life is soooo good!" How are you doing Pop? "oh.... I'm pretty good. Your mom is taking good care of me, and your uncle Rod is going to take me fishing..." Does it (whatever the current injury might be) still hurt? "oh.... yeah. It hurts all the time. But don't you worry about me Doll, I'm doing good. Now that you're here, I'm great." 

It's weird, all the smooshing together of memories and drama and trauma and logic and analysis. Just weird. And it makes perfect sense and makes no sense at all. 

Every year, I battle emotion anywhere from melancholy all the way to the trainwreck-wish-I-was-never-born extreme. I try really hard not to have expectations. In life in general. Toward my birthday in particular. 

Being born on a holiday is not all it's cracked up to be. As a kid, parties were hard. Classmates were busy doing things with family, with church groups, at the lake, at big 4th of July celebrations. 

The anniversary of my birth is a complex cluster fuck. And I do better and I do worse. But I commence to party with caution because I know that lurking in the shadows is a death wish, a spirit, a monster. It might rear its ugly head at any moment. I try not to live holding my breath in fear, but I also try not to forget that there's a dark force at work in regard to my birth and the celebration thereof. I try to remember that it's a thing. But it's just a thing. And this too shall pass. 

Beggars....

 Beggars can't be choosers. Or much of anything else really. 

I'm at the point of my disability journey that I am just a beggar. Not a chooser. I'm flat broke, I'm less than a month away from losing the only form of income I have right now, child support. So while I'm proud of my kid and so happy for her in regard to this milestone, I'm sickened to think that the only money I get every month, roughly $290, will be ending.

Right now I'm begging for.... pet food, gas money, money for the electric bill, and any other immediate need/necessity that comes up. Things I used to regard as needs... my own vehicle, insurance for home and vehicles, regular flea treatments and deworming for pets, vet visits, weather appropriate shoes and clothes.... I have discovered are actually luxuries. 

I have utilized all the resources I know of that are readily available to me. Which translates to more begging. And whether or not those helping agencies take a condescending tone or not, it is still extremely humiliating. But sadly enough, money of the places put in place to help, are condescending in tone and demeanor. Which makes it more difficult the next month when nothing much has changed. 

It is poor shaming at its finest. or whatever. The poor (me) that have to humbly ask for help month after month, we would really rather crawl under a rock. But I want electricity badly enough to beg for it. So I will seek out more places that I haven't begged from lately, and I will beg for lights and running water and flushing toilets one more time.

I pray that my determination comes soon and payment is swift. But mostly I just pray I can survive. 

If you want to help, send a message and I'll send you the energy company information. Today this blog is both, a rant and plea. Because as I've pointed out, beggar is my current status and begging is my current resource. If you want more information, use this link: Detailed List of ways to assist

Pay it Forward....

 I feel so many deep level rants going on. But my mind just scatters in every direction when I try to collect my thoughts. Rants and angry blogs make for an easy, good read. But surely there's more to writing than just collecting my anger in piles and dumping it.  

One problem with angry-ranting all the time is that it takes away from my ability to re-frame my thinking and find the positives. And every day, there is something positive. 

Yesterday, we went to town without money. I mean, yes, we are flat broke. But I had money on the ebt card and we needed lunch, so we went to the grocery store to find some lunch. At the checkout we realize that my ebt card is not with us. So my child looks to see if she has her debit card. But no, she does not. It was also left at home. So the two plastic sources of money we had, were not with us. We always have no money, but yesterday we had NO money. 

Embarrassment. Humiliation. Standing in the line, trying to figure out how we can have some form of food with what we have, nothing. 

Then guy behind us says, "add mine to theirs and I'll pay for it all." "Really?!" "Yes, really." He had one item, a drink. And he generously bought our lunch. Restored my daughter's faith in humanity. Me.... it took a minute. Why? Because I was still so embarrassed and humiliated and felt the worth that I would attribute to garbage. None. But it only took a minute. Because my child was there to remind me that it was a good act, and that someone took care when we were in need. Randomly. We don't know this guy, we are not going to put him on our list to someday repay him in some fashion. 

What I will do is remember. And pay it forward. One day, when things are not quite this grim, I will pay it forward to my neighbor, randomly. And maybe, just maybe, I can help restore someone else's faith in humanity. 

More from the misfit section....

 Being a misfit and a poet is lonely. It's the kind of lonely that leaves you alone in a crowd of people. I carry this with me at all times, and sometimes it is not too heavy of a burden and sometimes, it is truly too much to bear. Remember that kid in school that was just sort of odd and nobody wanted him/her on the team or in their group? Yeah, that is me. And thank God for adulthood where it is okay to find your own brand of misfits and you can all oddly not fit in together. But to think that childhood did not leave scars on a deeply feeling person is a lie. To say surface level crap like... "that is all behind you now, you are no longer being bullied or are a misfit," or "But aren't you glad since it shaped who you are today?" Let me tell you, I am grateful for today, and that it is not like childhood. But I have never once been glad that I was bullied by classmates or teachers. I'm not glad I was targeted as an "at-risk" kid so the infamous "they" could poke and prod my brain for reasons to list in their research. I don't have some secret gratitude for people who laughed at me and made fun of me and then scratched their pretty little heads when I broke bad. Ironically enough, with all my disdain for education today and the hugely broken down corporation that it is, one of my favorite ever quotes comes from education or education gurus. And I can't give the proper credit as I don't remember exactly where it came from. But it didn't originate with me. Here it is: "You cannot punish the trauma out of someone." Which is literally what both education and rules of society in America try to do. 

As one who was formally a moderate to heavy drinker, and a more than just occasional recreational drug user, I am supposed to let all this shit go today. I am not supposed to stir the pot anymore. But it is what I do. I am good at it. And I have a few different views on this. One, it is a release. In the cycle of abuse it is the part where the victim invokes violence because it takes away the unpredictability of it and it give the victim some amount of control. Maybe not to what is going to happen to them, but of when. And waiting for the other shoe to drop is horrible and time consuming and eats up any available brain space. People wonder why you don't get things done, but your body, heart and mind were waiting. And that waiting is paralyzing, and Petty didn't lie, "the waiting is the hardest part...."

Shit-stirring.... it isn't just for breakfast anymore. Someone's got to do it. You know, when the water gets stagnant, it becomes a breeding ground for things like mosquitos. And, as you all surely know by now, "Well behaved women rarely make history" (penned originally by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, often credited to Marilyn Monroe and Eleanor Roosevelt). So someone has to stir the pot. Someone has to be the supporter of Black Lives Matter and PRIDE, and women's rights when everyone around them is shouting things like "it's not that you are expressing yourself, but the WAY you are going about it!" Which is usually a non-violent, non-criminal way, by the way. Shit stirrers of world unite. 

Stirring the shit pot does a few things though that I don't like. The pot boils over onto non-shit substance and taints everything around it with the smell and taste of shit. It splatters. Onto people and entities and entire lives of those who did not make the shit or stir the shit. And it burns and stings and stinks in the process. It can ruin relationships and it is a major form of self-sabotage. 

Self-sabotage. Something else I'm truly adept at. And let's face it, the more precarious my mental health is, the more likely I am to believe that every thought I have is worth sharing and shouting and splattering in every direction. And when this happens I am most likely to believe that my thoughts and my mind have never been clearer. But the truth is, we generally hurt the ones we love the most. Why? Because it is safe. or safer. Because, in general, they are going to love us anyway. And sometimes those are the people we are trying to reach in a roundabout kind of way. Does this person care about me enough to reach out even though I just shit on them? In spite of, or because of. So why bleed on those who didn't cut me? Why let the shit explode on the just and unjust? Well, for one, it just splatters when it it is stirred often enough and the heat is turned up high enough. But also because it is not safe for that shit to splatter out into the unknown. 

Knowing I'm creating career sabotage and injuring relationships? Not enough to stop me. Because that self-sabotage groove is deep. And stirring up shit that is better left alone, just another strength I possess and service I offer. So there you go. 

Found the pic here

Education Rhetoric

 I know a lot of words. I am a word gatherer. I gather them and file them and pull them out for further use when it is convenient for me. But often, like today, I have to go back and make sure I filed the correct word in the correct spot. When I looked up the definition of the word rhetoric, I found the definition to be profoundly fitting, on a deeper level than I even thought. So... yay me, the me that gathers words and saves them up for just such an occasion. 

My friends in the education business are getting ready for a continuing education type of conference about ACEs (adverse childhood experiences), resilience, and how to bring those things together. And in my teaching career I whole-heartedly jumped on this bandwagon. But today, as I sit here analyzing how it felt to not be deemed worthy of salvation as a parent of a child with intense ACEs, and a child who pushed and rejected and did everything in her power to make herself (and me by proxy) not worth the time of those around her, not worth saving, I find the word rhetoric to profoundly fitting for the business of loving kids and resilience and the bullshit industry-shitshow that is education today.

Rhetoric: "language designed to have a persuasive or impressive effect on its audience, but often regarded as lacking in sincerity or meaningful content. " This definition is from Oxford Languages. 

Whooooooboy! That says it right there. 

First of all, I will rant, as it is my right within my blog. I say shame on you for choosing sides of a child who repeatedly discounted and putdown and made "less than..." MY child because this child is near and dear to your heart and your know their story and blah, blah, blah.... Okay. Well, actually, fuck you and all your pretty face smiles and all the bullshit you and your middle-school-mean-girl-behavior brought to our life. I am more than slightly jaded and bitter at your "love" for us and how you "handled" my child and myself. So just FUCK YOU ALL TO HELL. 

Rant over. (just kidding). Blowing my top and using yelling of the beloved "F" word, will be less after this. But when it boils inside for so long while I try to choke down handfuls of sweet, kind, meaningless words with no sincerity (if you meant it, you would live it), after awhile, it comes back out of my soul, projectile vomit style. I am puke sick of you all "playing" me, and more importantly playing my kid, who graduated DESPITE you all. My kid, who has a pretty serious mental health diagnosis that she takes on, head-on, every fucking day. People have told me, outloud, to my face, that there is really no hope for a person with her diagnosis. That there is no treatment for it and that it only continues to get worse. And my education "friends" who are gathering with their bullshit rhetoric this coming week, you also told me this. Only you didn't tell me with your words, but with your actions. Told me that my kid was not worth your time or effort. And let me tell you, I know WELL how my kid can drain the living daylight right out of you. But in spite of the fact that she knows there is no treatment or cure; in spite of knowing that you do not give 2 shits about her life; in spite of knowing that all the other fuck arounds in your school WERE worthy of your time and effort, my kid graduated and is trying to get better. This is profound. Where is this in all your resilience talk, aka bullshit/rhetoric? Oh, yeah, I remember now.... she didn't show resilience, so she wasn't good enough. You successfully killed any hope remaining that this whole resilience crap talk was worth while, that education is about kids, all that shit. It's not about kids. It's about money. How much can be sucked out of schools paying for teachers to learn about the things they either are never going to do, or already do because they love kids. Honestly, your program is nice. Enticing. But some teachers were going to love kids no matter what and find ways to make school make a little bit of sense to kids like mine. And some teachers didn't believe your sales pitch a long time ago and paying to go to your little conference isn't going to change that.

And I don't have time or bandwidth to go into this today, but the head-banging hopelessness that your cold-hearted, know-it-all attitude brings out in me is truly overwhelming. 

This photo came from here: https://www.boredpanda.com/cute-hamster-butts/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic

What I will tell you is that there is a little, tiny, BUTT sticking out. Oops, I think it's a but, not a butt. BPD people only get better IF they want it. And by god, my kid wants it. 

This is a much lengthier conversation actually. I could build my own show and shove handfuls of rhetoric of my own down throats of those who are sweetly spooning that shit down throats today, but I've exhausted my brain. I'm out of bandwidth. 

*sigh* 

I am heartbroken for my child, and the messages that you education reformists fed her. I am heartbroken for me, the teacher who feels too deeply, the one who is more interested in loving kids than proving to you that I did all steps and am worthy of your acceptance. I am devastatingly sad as I look at education today and look at where I am with it all. I don't believe your pretty packages full of lies and rhetoric. I hate it that I don't believe in education anymore and that I wasted years of my life trying to be a part of a dying system that is failing and bleeding dollars at the same that is it raking in money from tax payers for bullshit and lies, otherwise referred to here as rhetoric. 

Going down for the last time, and my education heart cannot be saved. Not only that, but you've shown me you'd rather just turn away and let me drown.

I also have no credit for this photo. I did not take this picture. I got it from an article. You can find it here.