Crazy liberals and lunatic republicans....

Oh. My. Goshness. I have soooo many things on my mind that I'd love to jump up on my lil soapbox about, but I'll try to get some sort of focus. I've decided to "out" myself. I'm a midwest girl, raised on guns and Jesus. And what's mine is mine and not yours. For as long as I can remember though, I've been a bit of a bleeding heart. I don't want to try and cram my entire life's story into one blog post, but some background information may be necessary. I know most of you all know me and many of you know what kind of a hateful terror I was in high school. There was not enough to numb my pain. Enough of what you might ask. The answer is yes. Not enough fast cars, loud music, violence, drugs and especially.... alcohol to kill the pain that was buried deep in my soul. I hated some of you for caring, I hated the rest of you for not caring. I thought that no one knew my pain and that no one was smart enough to raise me. So I kind of raised myself. Not for lack of trying on my parents' part. But I was determined that "you can't tell me what to do...." and the answer to that is also yes. Who is you? My parents, the schools, the caring souls from church, whoever you were, you couldn't tell me much. And when I miraculously got sober at a young age.... 19, not even legal yet, I joined that club with a fight too. Don't tell me how to get and stay sober. and so the story goes on. Cuz I'm hard headed. 

I was raised red. Conservative. Right-wing. Republican. through and through. To the tune that I believed that people who I counted in my circle who didn't believe the same as me, I thought they weren't actually Christians. I thought that if you weren't religious right to the point of being a little unhinged that you weren't salvageable. Couldn't be saved. I was a "snowflake" hater. And in my "Christianity" (if you can call it that.... in hind sight thinking there was any semblance of being Christlike was a farce), I spouted ugly names for those crazy liberal whack jobs. Those crazy people who felt like the good of all trumped the good of the individual. That surely wasn't Christlike. Couldn't be. That would be pure crazy. 

Somewhere along the way though, I fell into poverty. And I started to realize, those people on welfare, those lazy good for nothing handout seeking bums, those people were my people. And I accepted government help and I worked my ass off. both. And I started to see how many other people were just like me. Not trying to rip off the system (and from what I understand, there's actually very little skimming and scamming of poor people ripping off the system, or that's what those pesky statistics say), but working, at least one job, maybe some babysitting and various other side hustles too to try and get ahead, or maybe just to get closer to breaking even. But as I tried my damnedest to get moving in a forward direction, and still rolling down the hill backwards no matter how fast I pedaled, I had the privilege of experiencing poor shaming. Talking about "those people" around me, and guess what? I are one of "those" people. One of those lazy no good people who doesn't really want to get out of poverty. Apparently I'm happy in the repeated situation of being in danger of losing my electricity or being food insecure on a monthly basis. I mean, if I really wasn't happy about it, I would make it happen to get out. Right? America. Land of Opportunity and all that jazz. 

So today my heart bleeds a little more for those lazy jerks living off the government and not even trying to get their shit together. Because a) I am one of those people, and b)I know how hard it is to climb out of the well, and c) I don't ACTUALLY enjoy being belittled for things that are largely outside of my control. 

Somewhere along the journey, finding a God of my understanding led to just finding a God of my misunderstanding. I just needed a God. And the God of my youth wasn't so much in my corner. So where was he? What did "he" look like? What kind of power did he have? 

My faith went through many phases. Spirituality. I lost a lot of the religiosity. I'm pretty glad about that actually. Things started happening in my life and my family that made it harder and harder to hold onto homophobia and to see that kind of hate for a marginalized people as godly. If I understand what I read in the Bible, it's my job as a lover of Christ to love people and to give them a safe place to land. This world is rough enough. I find that the people that I most emulate and want to be like are the people who are kind, loving, and accepting of me. And my right-wing upbringing isn't fitting with loving people like Jesus did. Does. I think Jesus still does love people. I think that Jesus is a god-figure and as such, isn't obsolete or dead. I desire to be loved. And I think Jesus loves me. Broken, fucked-up, loser me. Not just when I was a right wing nut. But now. Now that I'm starting to wake up. Now that I'm becoming one of those woke fruitcakes. I think that everything I learned at one time in my life is not holding true today. I believe (and I believe things because I FEEL them) that this other path, this leftist path, the "liberal" path, seems to represent Jesus to me. I wonder sometimes, can I be liberal and still be pro-life? And then I wonder, are people who are pro-birth really pro life when they don't care for orphans and widows and the downtrodden and misguided souls? So there it is. Out in the open. I'm leaning left. farther and farther and louder and louder the longer I seek a Jesus who loves me where I am at right now. For some of you, this is no surprise. Probably many of you really. But I'm tired. I'm tired of trying not to shout about the failings of my state on it's current path, of people who presume to share my faith when it doesn't care about those who are "less-than," worn down, marginalized, different, minorities, or poor. Because these are my people. I can write many a blog about how I am white and privileged, so how can minority races be my people. I am not sure I know the answer except for the whole "woke" thing. I know I'm privileged. I also know I'm a "less-than" in my country because I'm a woman and damn if it isn't infuriating, but it's still a man's world. 

There's many a skeleton I'm not ready to expose yet. But this one's out. I am no longer one of those conservative types. And although I did a bunch of self-depricating in this post about those lefties, I also don't think they are so crazy anymore. I have found out that they love me. And you. And a whole bunch of other people that Jesus loves. So if you are left and liberal and I used those snowflaky terms, it was just a ruse. I know they call us. Cuz I used to be one of "them." But I am learning that a person shouldn't be judged by their party affiliation and that a person's moral character isn't left or right. It is sometimes wrong though. And that doesn't come from political ties. Don't fall for the rhetoric folks. Make your own way. Walk through your own fire and see what your life looks like to you and go from there. 

A moment in time

 I was gonna title it "A Day in the Life" but the days are never the same, even the ones that are the same. It's because of my touchy-feely gene. Or whatever. How I have to feel everything, out loud, up close and personal, every freaking day of my life. 

Last week I started to dive into the wreck that is our finances of current. And it was hard. It was a hard write. Exhausting. And let's face it, I just scratched the surface.... that iceberg runs deep. But it was to try and expel some of the heaviness of the weight of poverty and not knowing day-to-day where the next day's provisions are coming from. I felt like God told me to write it. Even though it was ugly and I called it my "sad blog." But these days, they are definitely a moment. A pause. They take up space in the time line of my life. So today I'm tackling this moment in time.

Fresh, newly updated mailbox, 2022

 

      

              Newly painted... bright and shiny. 2022

  

  

Two years ago, I painted our mailbox all cute and put it up with lots of hopes and dreams stuffed into it. The Hippie Chick Farm mailbox. And last week, some farmer with equipment attached to their John Deere ran right over our dream-filled mailbox. It kind of seemed fitting in the midst of my down-trodden mindset and the very law of Murphy working overtime. But I got it cobbled back together. It is what I called "rigged." It's stable and will stand for awhile so it's probably not actually "rigged." But it's not what it used to be either. 

A lil tired, but still works. 2024

Worn and faded, 
but still readable
2024

All beat to heck, but still 
gettin' the job done
2024

So this represents pride and sadness and grit and determined-ness and maybe even a little of the worn out feeling I have all the time. It's just a moment in time though. In some ways, the dented, beat up mailbox makes me happy. It looks like some of the pictures of old mailboxes I find when I'm searching for mailboxes to draw to make cards. It's definitely authentic. 

I felt like God told me to write that last blog, that sad blog, that heavy blog. And since then, the abundance of blessings has been unreal. So I guess there's a reason for expressing my short comings and desolation. But in it, it feels yucky. It feels like I'm dragging people down to the muck and the stinky, stinky mire. 

Today I have much to thank God for. And He tells me/told me/is still telling me, to write about this too. I expressed the financial inadequacy of my current financial provision... SSD payments. To the tune of about 2/3 of what we need to just barely scrape by every month. Talk about tough. But the Lord in His great wisdom blessed me with a generous overpayment for a service I provided this week. Gas money, some gifts of chicken feed and food and milk for goat babies. Blessings. But the truth is, this just takes the edge off for about 10 minutes. The crushing anxiety of what is still not covered comes rumbling in soon after the high of the getting some relief is felt. God knows this too. And is not without compassion. I was gifted some cash too. I was planning to see if I could maybe borrow some cash. But instead I accepted a gift. Such a treasure. Again, it lessens the constant hum or anxiety and provides some relief. It gave us the ability to figure out a temporary solution to one of our more stinky situations that we currently face. It's not a forever solution and we need more. More help. More skill. More talent. More money to pay for said things. More knowledge of who to even turn to. 

Even after all this, God wasn't done with me. Honestly I am in shock. He keeps providing. I am not shocked that God provides really. But this week, I've been in perpetual turmoil. Gripping the roll bars of the ride as it tugs in the uphill battle to reach the top of the rail, and like God's provision, I then top the crest and roll back down at the rate of speed at which such provision sifts through my hands and disappears and then on the uphill trek we go again. 

God is giving me a glimpse into the world of work with a chance to work at one of my favorite places in the world with some people I know are godly and seeking the best of all involved. I am going to have a chance to see what the work world feels like on these knees and if there's as much improvement as I think there is, if I'm maybe ready for a new job next year? Hmmmmm. So much to ponder. But this will also..... allow me to give my kids a Christmas. Yeah, they are grown and the expectations are different now, but it's so important that I can buy the groceries to make the things that make it seem like Christmas.... salsa and cookies and fudge and so on. Yes, we will get to experience Christmas if this all works out! And maybe make ends meet too. Hallelujah.

We are so broke we are selling off over half our flock of regular sized chickens and almost all of our ducks. Three. We are keeping three ducks. Three seems more like a flock than just two. But we're currently receiving 0, yes 0, duck eggs on the daily. We have 11 ducks of laying age, and not a one single egg each day. Because of the freeloader situation it's not as hard for me to be willing to get rid of ducks. But if you know us Hippie Chicks, we're not really all about downsizing our birds. Our regular sized chickens (not the banties) are a bit of a confusion anyway. We're not sure what color egg is coming from where at the moment and the Punky was pushing to start over with layers next Spring. She wanted to keep these girls until then and sell these off as we add new, young pullets. But I say, "why wait....." Again, if you know me, you know that's unusual. But the financial burden to feed a bunch of freeloading chickens who aren't giving back, is great. So why wait. Let's sell them now and not have to feed them all winter long when I don't even know where our next bag of feed is coming from yet. So we are keeping 5 of our faves and the other 7 and the worthless Roo are going to auction. I can't wait. I'm seriously excited about not having many birds to feed. About starting over again (and again and again it seems) to build a flock we're really excited about. 

Lastly, and this breaks me heart to think about, let alone to put it into black and white type. We are selling our precious little bottle babies. If you know a 4H-er that needs a sweet, well socialized goat to train up for a 4H project, we have just the little stinker for you. Seriously though, these darlings know their names, they come when called (well they ARE still goats, they don't always come), they follow us around, they love to be loved on and are sweet and tame as can be. They would be great for 4H, for anyone getting into goats as pets, or for (dare I say it) a petting zoo type situation where kids would touch and love on them and not have to worry about being hurt by them. These kids are going to auction on the 27th unless we can find the perfect home for them before then. If you follow me on facebook you already know I LOVE these babies. I take pictures and videos of them constantly. I am always filled with laughter at their antics and JOY at their zest for life and adventure. So Please dear God, provide a right and loving home for these precious babies because I cannot keep up with their milk consumption and I love them dearly. 

Do you want to support The Hippie Chick Farm? Prayer is the biggest need we have. I believe in a great and powerful God who rules the universe with love and a desire to see his Children thrive, not merely survive. However, God's been talking to me about how I may have abundance, how it may always be a "wait upon the Lord" type of game for always. I may be waiting for miracles every single month. I guess that is okay. I'm not super stoked about it. But I have some level of acceptance about it. 

Other ways to help are to donate money (gift cards to TSC, Bomgaars, Atwoods, Amazon, Dillons, Walmart, Aldi, prepaid cards Visa or Mastercard or wherever you choose, or cash) mailed to: Hippie Chick Farm; Carrie Horn; 4411 S. Woodberry Road; Burrton, KS 67020; to donate poultry food (all flock is what we use so that we can feed the same thing to the chickens, the silkies, the ducks); to donate goat feed (textured feed, and sweet feed); donate cat food to the outside cats (cheap cat food: Special Kitty 44 lb bag; Kit-n-Kaboodle 30 lb or more bag; Friskies biggest bag of food..... seems to always just be the seafood one); or Alfalfa bales for the goats. Also, there's always the option to purchase from our small businesses: Tie Dye For, tiedye shirts and more; Hippie Chick Creations where I showcase my greeting cards (but this is an umbrella name and I make all kinds of artsy stuff.... if you can dream it, ask me about it, I might be able to make it; and farm fresh chicken eggs (because there are no duck eggs currently). Thank you family, friends, and friends we don't know, for praying, for giving, for reading, and sending good vibes. Your help makes a difference. It provides hope, and a quality of life. Blessings from us girls at the Hippie Chick Farm. 

Money being the root of all evil....

 I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna talk about it. Which is probably a good reason to talk about it. What is "it"? Extreme Poverty maybe. The state of my life maybe. Depression and Hopelessness maybe?

I'm not sure I have the right words. I'm sure I have words. I am a wordy girl. I always have some sort of words. But are they the "right" words? Do they accurately express my thoughts? Are they socially appropriate? And when did that become a factor anyway? Social appropriateness and acceptability are not usually factors that carry much weight in my quest to purge my soul or at least empty the rattling in my brain. 

Let's start with hopelessness. It starts with a story. or maybe two. Some stories to preface the current hopeless state of things. Hmmmm.... 

In June, our shitter was full. Not super surprising because we've lived here awhile now. But emptying it out takes funds. Which we don't have. We've just been strapped this spring and summer. Every month I think I'm going to figure out how to make the money last all month and every month I'm sorely disappointed that it just doesn't. A thing that happened was having to pay car insurance. Because I am single now and having to pull my own weight. Yeah, okay.... this sucks. And adding another driver. Because back in the day.... not that many days ago really.... remember when I was a constant beggar? Remember when we lived off the kindness of people who don't get recognized here? When I still didn't have my disability and so we had a pittance of back support still owed for Jadyn that we received. I think it was $240/month. And that was basically it. And once you tap your local resources you cannot use them again for months. Some places it is 6 months, some places it is 18 months. So I was literally begging for people to pay my every bill each month. During this time, trying not to become homeless and to keep the luxury of electricity, I let liability insurance lapse. Yes, it's illegal to do that. But I didn't feel like there were other ways to go. During this time, my youngest child hit a parked car in the pouring rain. She lost her license for two years. Two years is up now. And we're trying to get her license back. One thing we have to do is carry SR-22 insurance for a year. And it ain't cheap. And to tell the truth, at this time, since we are still a one-driver household (I'll probably talk more about that later... so many stories to tell one big story), I would forego this if I could. But in order to get my kid's title released by the state, we have to prove we have the insurance. So I'm paying a policy that covers two vehicles and while it's liability only, it is also carrying SR-22 on a vehicle that the insurance was allowed to lapse on which the insurance company frowns on and makes you pay your due diligence for allowing that to happen. Yes, you translated that right.... more money. High risk is what they call me. This is how poor people become poorer. I don't think I'm special or singled out in any way (well, I DO think I'm special, but that should be left unsaid), I think the rules are the same for everyone. But for those of us who fell behind because of financial hardship in the first place, it seems like an unfair strike to take more money when we try to set things right. But I don't make the rules, I'm just supposed to follow them. 

Starting in May, I've been paying this additional $300 something a month. This comes out of my whopping check of $1545 per month. Also, now that we're receiving an income (vs. NO income), we're paying our home owner's insurance again. It's about $235 per month. And you know, if I lapse my policy, I'll probably have to a) change provider's again and b) pay more money again for being "high risk." So we're trying like hell to pay this every month. We means me. But don't misunderstand me. It's a family affair. The kiddo who got into this jam (over two years ago now), she pays half of the insurance premium out of her financial aid loans. So now I have a new worry. Is my child getting in over her head with too much debt from school loans? *sigh* I don't know, maybe she is. But the only hope we have of making ends meet or at least trying to make them meet, is if she contributes. Ultimately it is me who is responsible to pay for all our expenses. 

Let's talk about Evergy. We are not a low energy household. This is something we could make some gains on if we're diligent. I think we need to make a stronger effort. But reality is that the electric bill runs about $300. There's a couple months that it's less, that it reflects less AC or heat, less use of water which is pumped using electricity. But that bill is about $300 a month. Last month it was $293, and this month it's an even $300.

Now we also have gas and groceries. Some crazy chick moved out to Burrton of all places to be amongst the wildlife and things. And it's 15 miles from anywhere. Fifteen miles to Hutchinson, nineteen miles to Newton, and 22 miles to Maize. So when kiddo enrolled in school five days a week, it meant that there's about $50/week needed for gas. And said kiddo has contributed some toward this, thank goodness. 

Did I mention internet? It's $75 a month on a good day. But really it's more like $85 after taxes and fees and fees and fees. Can't live in the middle of nowhere without internet. Streaming, and job applications, and emails, and just about every kind of communication is dependent on internet. Ideatek is putting in wired internet in the area, it's a matter of time. And I believe (but I don't actually know) that our internet will go down then. But we'll see if that's true when something actually becomes available in this area. 

People! Mostly I've just laid out a few finances and whined a little, but I'm already exhausted! This is why sometimes really long blogs just get cut off. They just abruptly end when the story is obviously not over. It wears down my mind. Which is currently a constant battle. Being destitute is exhausting. It is a constant stress and my brain is continuously rolling over thoughts of how can I possibly make things better with the little bit I have to offer. It runs on high every waking hour and I shut down multiple times a day due to the strain. Maybe I sleep, maybe I force myself to draw a card, maybe I watch tv (streaming services) and maybe I play a mindless game on my phone. But my brain gets fuzzy and my thoughts aren't clear and I literally cannot intelligently form a sentence. I have to hit pause. Because I'm clearly overwhelmed. I wonder if this happens to everyone? I think I have some legit reasons for this. "Just" the overwhelm of it all, that is legit. But there's also menopause. I never really understood the sort of hellish chaos that menopause wreaks. Hot flashes, that was a special journey. But now that they are gone (mostly... knock on wood, fingers crossed....), there's this lingering fog. The mental fog is strong with this one. I'm certain there are other factors... depression, depression meds, anxiety, nutrient deficiencies in my body, and the list goes on. 

Back to the heart ache of paying out more money on my pittance of a check and our shitter being full. So along comes June and our shitter is full. Yep. And no money to change this situation. But one of my children helped me out and sent me the funds to have it emptied. Good to go. Right? I mean, we've been here four years and only had it cleaned out now. But along comes August, and damn if the toilets don't stop flushing again. Imagine the luck... now we've got something causing the toilets not to flush. Maybe tree roots in the drains? I call the sewer guy to get an estimate. He suggests that while I'm on the phone with him, I go look and see if the septic is full again. Dammit, it sure is. What does this even mean?! Well, his words were, "for whatever reason, it is not able to keep with the action in your household." Really?! I guess. We added another occupant at the end of July. But this is a bigger issue. It means that our lateral lines are not keeping up and getting the grey water out of the septic faster than we are creating the matter in the first place. This means that ultimately, we need new lateral lines. Not a cheap excursion. I'm wracking my brain that think of who I even know that would be capable of this kind of work, let alone that I call my friend that might do some sort of charity or payment plan (because someday blood WILL come from this turnip?!) or wheeling and dealing of some sort. So this is the goal. Getting new lateral lines or as the sewer guy (who shall remain nameless) said, "adding onto" the lines in order to circumvent zoning regulations? I don't even know what that means, but I think it means that some ways of fixing the problem should probably be kept hush hush. So I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'm scare to even call for an estimate because I know it's dollars and dollars that I don't have and don't anticipate having in the amount of time I have to find someone to fix this. There are some preparations I can do that cost considerably less. These things are not solutions, they are bandaids, and though they cost much less than the whole replacing of the lateral lines thing, they would still be an expense. I think at Menards we're looking at spending between $150 and $300 dollars. This would however, give us some breathing room. The obvious solution in August was to have the septic pumped again, so we did, and through the generosity of some friends who I would call "Jesus followers" because I have grown to hate the word "Christian" we were able to have it done in a timely manner. But guess what? Shitters full again. Yep. We are in dire straits again. Going to the store to window shop so we can use the restroom when we're there. Oh yes, that is real. And we're trying the "if it's yellow, let it mellow...." but in all honesty, we should have started that little thing the last time we got it pumped out, we're on the tail end of being able to flush at all now. 

On another topic (and yet... still about money), my insurance decided I no longer qualified for the Medicare Supplemental Medicaid/Kancare assistance. It put me on a "spend down" insurance. So I am now receiving medical bills out the wazoo for the past 6 months that I was on this spend down account. And trying to make things right with people who are running their own struggling small businesses and can't make it when people (or insurance companies) don't pay them. During this time, I was still receiving the benefit of a grocery allowance on my supplemental insurance that allowed us $244/month for groceries. But at the spend-down time ended, I had to change supplemental insurance companies and no longer received the $244/month for groceries. Also, premiums began coming out of my check. As they missed the first month, two premiums came out of my last check. Leaving me somewhere in the $1100 dollar range for my paycheck. 

So as we seem to have less and less money to live, we seem to be having more and more emergencies to tend to. Some days I want to cry, to scream, to give up. Some days I know we will figure this out. Somedays I don't have the energy or mental clarity to care. Just trying to hang on and get through the day. But I know that if it is going to work out, God is going to have to reach down here and help us. Whether that is a skin-on kind of gospel, working through real people; or whether it's angels moving heaven and earth in a behind the scenes way; or whether through the prayer of people who love God will just attach me and our little farmstead to their prayers; somehow it has to be a God thing. There's no other way it can possibly work.

Navigating the destruction of a relationship ending....

Relationships are confusing for me. The ones that burn hot and intense, they are intoxicating and addicting for me. But they're never good for me. I'm just not good at relationships, at "love" (whatever that means anyway). Because I want the hot and heavy. But I also want forever and happily ever after. I want the best friend and the fairy tale. I want it all. 

Some things I learned in my last relationship. "It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me". T-swizzle knows what she's talking about. For me, somewhere in the relationship, comes a disconnect.  Like I want communication but I freeze and can't communicate. I hate that. But I have to own it. It's mine. "It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me." 

But then again, it's not all me. Like wanting communication. I am not good at it. That's true. But it doesn't stop me from trying. over and over again. 

Every time I thought, "this just isn't working out...." I would then think, "Maybe it's because you didn't communicate." So instead of saying Good bye, see ya later, I'd say, "let's talk about some things...." and I tried, tried like hell, to speak precisely, and clearly. Not too soft, because I tend to talk in circles sometimes when I don't want to hurt feelings. These days text communication is the way to go. Well, it's a way to go. It's my preferred method of communication. And some things *may* have been expressed through text message instead of face-to-face. In my defense, with text, I can look back and try to figure out if I was clear in my communication or not. Also in my defense, I can use the texts to help attempt to craft conversation. But conversation. That was largely a joke. Which was a blessing and a curse. Okay, so sometimes conversation is difficult for me, so by default, the lack of conversation can be comforting. This was one more catch-22 situation in our relationship. It was comfortable. Even when it was silent. Or especially when it was silent. But comfort didn't further an open, caring relationship. The kind where you tell each other shit. All the good shit. Or the bad shit. and the in-between shit. All. the. shit. 

Was it wrong to want more? I wanted friendship, conversation, companionship. I also wanted freedom. Freedom to do as I wanted. To be alone when I wanted to. I also wasn't that interested in sex. Which seemed to me to come down to not wanting to be lusted after. I wanted more. Which I never got. I got "you're so hot baby," "You hot, sexy momma....," "You know what I want... (nudge, nudge, wink, wink)." But what I wanted was conversation, laughter, wined and dined, and to KNOW that it was a bigger attraction than just sexual. But the truth is, I'll never know if my theory was right. I'll never know if the attraction would have come back because I never got what I wanted... the affection and friendship I craved. I might have ended things anyway. I might have found out that Taylor really is right, that "it's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me..." and that the attraction for something physical would never come back. Whatever the reason, I feel like a terrible person. I do really feel like it's me, I'm the problem. But the truth is, it was not just me. Could it have ended differently? It could have. But it didn't. And that is not just on me. 

Life Happens....

 Life, like shit, just happens. And happens. And happens. And lately, well, I've had enough. A year and a little more ago, when I first got my disability, I wondered how long it would be enough. And now I know. Because of the graciousness of other people, we've survived the last couple months. But the reality is that the needs keep piling up and the resources keep dwindling. I did it. No one else. I made the decision to move to this place in the middle of nowhere where our circle was 30-45 minutes away at all times. And I wonder, what was I thinking? I know what I was thinking, I was thinking we'd build a circle here. I thought it was going to be this great and wonderful God-thing where we live in this great community that we become immersed in and are taken care of. The reality is this, even if I had been as much of the socialite that I dreamt of being when we first moved here, breaking in to a community takes time. It takes time in the best of circumstances. But the community didn't exactly embrace me and my reaction was to thumb my nose at them. This can be crippling. First of all, I knew I was mentally and emotionally in dire straits. But I held an unrealistic belief that I could and would overcome it because I said it was so. And sometimes sheer willpower and grit is enough. But this time it was not. I was too far in the pit to dig out on my own. Emotionally. Mentally. I just wasn't sharp. I was trying to teach and I was scattered. It's painful to admit. I know in my heart that I was a good teacher at one time. But the last couple years, the pit was just too deep. I was that little gerbil, running as fast as I could on that wheel and ending up at the exact same place. The loss of my Dad was brutal for me. The decline of my relationship with my kid was baffling, overwhelming, debilitating. The new school, dilapidated dwelling, new grade level, new expectations. There was not one area of my life that could be run on auto-pilot. And I was not 100% in any area. It's not an excuse. But it contributed to the lack on connection. 

Fast-forward to now. My kid is mine again. We but heads. Often. Because she is a lot like me. And she also thinks the world revolves around her belly-button. Which is also one of my most endearing qualities (haha). So we still struggle. But we have found each other again. And that is huge. I am so grateful. And I know that if you ask her, my kid would say that she is grateful too. So... progress. Progress that makes all the hell worth it. But there's still fall out. Fallout from my career going down the toilet, from not being able to work due to disability. The tearing down of my self. Of every thing that made up the substance of me. Destroyed. 

Slowly, I'm working to rebuild whoever it is that I think that I am. A farmer maybe. A teacher maybe. (definitely in some light, in some life, but to what extent?). An independent woman. Because I know that no one is coming to my rescue. It's empowering and infuriating at the same time. I can sit here overwhelmed by my life (I do that) or I can get up off my ass and save myself. Because I'm not likely going to make things worse. So I might as well just jump in and try. 

Life happens. A community of friends help. But I'm struggling to build that. Because I'm still overwhelmed.

Is there a link between poverty and pets?

 I was talking to a friend about a situation and came around to pets and unwillingness to relinquish them. Her comment was "what is it about poor people and their pets?" That got me to thinking. Is there a connection? 

I can see how there could be. Much of my experience with poverty and being without financially is that I encounter a lot of money related trauma. My pets are a way of coping with that. Also, I have my dogs, I don't have money to go out and be entertained. So it's up to them (or my goats, or my chickens, or most recently the baby birds) to take up that entertainment slack. And they generally do. They provide plenty of entertaining antics. And love. Unconditional love. I mess up with pets as well as humans. And humans, well, after awhile, they grow tired of me messing up, they get tired of me. But my pets. My dog especially. When everything is going wrong and I say, "Maddie, can I have some snuggles?" She generally obliges. And is sweet and loving and lets me know she still values me. 

I think that when we feel like we've lost everything.... job, hope, family, support system, resources like groceries, and we're down to brass tacks.... we cling to our pets. It's us and them against the world. We can't imagine facing the hard times without them. 

I was unimaginably lucky when I was without any income for 15 months. We didn't lose our home. And fortunately enough, I really shouldn't say "lucky" it was good fortune provided by God by angels with skin on. Fortunately enough, my farm animals had feed to get by. And we didn't lose the dogs, the cats, the chickens. The reasons we moved to the country in the first place. We purposely had 4 dogs. More than what is smiled upon in town. Some towns have restrictions on how many dogs a person can have at a residence. 

As I type this, I feel selfish. The thought that they are "just" pets and could be replaced goes through my head. But every fiber of me protests this. They are not "just pets." Little miss Maddie has always been my little companion and she's "my dog." I feel this through and through. She doesn't listen to anyone else, she does what she wants, being the little diva that she is. But she usually listens to me. On occasion she will get overly excited about something (like treats) and become a wriggling, barking mess. But she is still my "good dog." I tell her every day she's a good girl and I love her. 

I hope I never end up in a homeless situation having to choose the streets or a shelter because of my pets. I hope I never face that in my life time. But I know how close I've come and I know God took care of my needs. I know it is still by the grace of God that I live my life freely with all my pets. And I breathe a breath of gratitude daily for this life I live. With my pets. Who have always seen the best in me. Even in the worst of times. 

Pro Life vs. Anti Abortion?

 I would tell you that I am pro life. I will also tell you that I'm pro woman's rights. Women have the right to determine what they do with their body. So I have an internal conflict. I guess the thing is... I saw a sonogram when I was only about 6 weeks pregnant with my oldest child. She was sucking her thumb and turning somersaults, even though she still had a tail. I believe that precious being was 100% alive. And not just a "fetus" or "fetal tissue." But I also believe that I can't tell another woman that it's going to be worth the 9 months of discomfort and growth and all that jazz if she doesn't want her baby. And I don't even really mean if she "doesn't want her baby." I mean, most women, to some extent ponder their options and to some capacity "want" that baby. But what if this meant never escaping a bad situation? What if it meant she and her baby would both be addicts? What if it meant she was bringing the child into a world where they lived hand to mouth every day? What if she knew she had anger issues? You know.... deep-seated, hateful, hurtful anger issues that make a person see red and do things they didn't even they were capable of doing? What if.... I could fill those in all day long. 

My daughter and I were having a conversation in the car, where most good conversations are born. And this topic came up. And she said "I know you're pro-life, but...." and launched into reasons that she is pro-woman's choice. Her arguments were all things I agree with. 

What I deeply believe is that we cannot really know what is in another person's heart and mind. What pain and agony they live with or are running from. I believe that men have it easy when women get pregnant. And I don't believe the answer is to "even the playing field" by somehow making him miserable. I do mean that he will never know what it is like to carry a child inside his body and to experience the dramatic shifts in hormones that happen during pregnancy. He will never know the emotional ties that woman experiences with a child she has not met. He will never understand that the gender gap is real and how much more she will struggle to make enough to comfortably care for herself and a child. Or let me say, he cannot understand just HOW real it is. And the effect of it. Do I think men can be sympathetic and realize this is a real problem? Yes, I do believe that. I also believe these men are fewer and farther between than I'm comfortable with. I do have A friend who I believe really believes in the rights of women and wants those rights to be catapulted to the same front as men's rights. Rights to choose, rights to make money, rights to express oneself and not be called "hormonal" and "emotional." Men and women are different. Period. And women ARE made to be more emotional and more hormonal. We should not be punished or diminished or thought of as less-than for those things. We should not be shamed. Many women push down their feelings and feel like it's a victory to be as callous as a man in given situations. I think that is discounting some things about women that are fascinating and mystical and magical and should not be discounted. But again, I digress. 

I think women should have the GUILT FREE right to choose her path. Abortion. Adoption. Motherhood. Single parenting. Villages of support. Conservative Christian Values. Wide-open, left-wing values. 

Climbing down off the soapbox for a minute, I will say, I have a mountain of pain from a child I gave birth to and did not raise. I hurt me. I hurt her. I even hurt her father. What I mean by that is that today I can see that it's not necessarily okay to discount the father in the situation as completely as I did. But I was a kid, seventeen. And I did what I thought was right. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that little peanut was alive in there turning somersaults and sucking her thumb and I wouldn't have wanted to end her life. 

But I also know she has lived with an intense sense of abandonment and wondered why I didn't love her. That she will never know how long and hard I thought about my options and wanted the very best for her. It is beyond her comprehension because of her own pain. 

Wouldn't it be great if we all just made responsible life choices to begin with and didn't have to reap what we sow because we are faced with the dilemma of whether or not we can parent this little surprise package? That no women faced being pregnant as a product of rape or incest or incestuous rape? Wouldn't it be great if men didn't feel entitled to take whatever they want by force and women would be seen as the goddesses they are instead of discounted for sexual objects to fulfill male desires and to be discarded at will? Wouldn't it be something if our society met women wherever they are at and offered them help and hope and a place at their table? If women weren't shunned and gossiped about and turned away from the help they need because they were supposed to "get it right" before this? 

We have so much to learn as a society. I feel like I have so much to learn. How do I marry my beliefs if they contradict each other? I don't. Today I just pray about and ask God to make me a kinder, more caring human being. One that fights for other women no matter what. 

Can I get an amen?