Slice of Life, Day 7

 Every day I don't know what to write. Either I have too many ideas in my head or I have complete writer's block, just blank. Daily slices of my life include animal antics, thoughts and reflections on animals, thoughts about social injustices, righteous indignation about abuse and mistreatment of humans. Maybe that's odd. That world injustices plague my thoughts on a daily basis. 

This morning we had a thunder storm. My dog, Maddie, is scared of storms. She shakes violently and sits on me. Like if I were sleeping or attempting to sleep she sits up on my body and stares at my face. And shakes. My job is try to comfort her. She resists being comforted though. Thunder storms are exhausting for both of us. This morning's storm brought Maddie to the front of my thoughts. And to reflect on how important this little fuzz-ball is in my life. She is my soul mate. My ride or die. My "favorite child." Maddie has been picked up by an owl twice now in the 3 1/2 years I've lived out here in the country. The first time was the night we celebrated Christmas with my Mom and we got home late.... like midnight or 12:30. When we got home, all the dogs came running.... this was when we still left them out sometimes when we were gone. We had the three indoor dogs and Sunnie, the outside dog. All dogs ran in the house and suddenly I couldn't find Maddie. I could hear her whining. But she was in J's room, all bloody and in obvious pain. We found 3 big puncture wounds. Like a bird of prey had grabbed her with its taloned feet. We called the emergency vet line and cleaned her up the best we could and took her in to the vet the following morning. By the time we went in to the vet, her whole underside was bruising already. Ugly, purple and blue and red all along her underbelly. She and I became inseparable. And slowly, she healed. At first, she didn't want to go out to go potty by herself. I would go out and stand with her. She eventually felt safe enough to go with the other dogs without a human going out with her. And she started to gain her ferociousness back. Maddie is a Shih tzu. Not particularly ferocious. But she loves to bark. Bark at the neighbors dogs, bark at coyotes, bark at skunks, at squirrels, at 'possums, and everything else out there. 

This year in January the dogs were out one night, doing their thing and then they started barking. And barking and barking. Then I realized that Maddie was not barking. I became alarmed immediately. She loves to bark! Where is she? What is she doing? So I put on shoes and ran out and tried to find her. I ran out to the underground fence line, she usually goes clear out to the farthest corner and barks at the unknown. But all I saw was a little, crumpled shaped slumped on the ground. It was her. My Maddie. I called to her. Nothing. I touched her. She was stiff. I was sure she was dead. Then she breathed just a little and moved her head. I scooped her up. I had already called back to the house and I had said to J, "they killed her, Maddie's dead!" I am walking back to the house and J comes out of house. So I tell J, "she's not quite dead. But I can't find any injuries."  Eventually I found puncture wounds, talon punctures! Around her neck and throat area. And I held her. After about an hour, her breathing returned to near normal. She was still in an obvious amount of pain. But we were, once again, inseperable. 

                    

Please excuse the very bad Mom-haircut. This is my Maddie. In desperate need of a haircut, and hoping we can swing a grooming service haircut. But if not, she doomed to another Mom haircut

To read about other people's slice of life, click on the orange slice. 

And it Builds, that raw emotion

This morning I was kicking around the idea of writing poetry. But the day just slipped away and here it is almost time to go to bed and I haven't written today. But I've been watching crazy documentaries. Tonight I'm watching The Program: Cons, Cults and Kidnapping. It's devastating to watch. A lot of the expertise is from people who were held in this place and the raw emotion is overwhelming. It brings a lot of unhealed emotion to surface. And I'm raw and weeping again. Why was it so very hard to live when I was young? And why has it followed me my whole life? Why am I plagued by thoughts of death? By unspeakable sorrow? By brokenness? 

And It Builds

I'm feel my pulse

racing through my body

and pounding through my veins.

I hear the blood 

pulsing in my ears. 

I feel the sorrow 

welling up from deep, deep down.

It builds,

it swells, 

it crashes.

And here I am 

alone,

in deafening silence.

My thoughts, 

my feelings

and me.

And it pulses

and builds, 

and ebbs and flows. 

I'm relieved 

as the feelings,

the raw, unrefined feelings,

retreat. 

And leave me 

alone

with only the roar

of silence.

-Carrie Horn

To read other what others contribute in the Slice of Life challenge, click on the orange slice.

... Just like that

 Just like that my hopes are flared and the fire is stoked. I got an email this morning that I have received my standard substitute license. Valid til 2029. And a lead came on a long-term sub position, and I have started the process of reaching out. Now the panic sets in... What about my disability? What about insurance? What if I don't like it? What happens if I work and then don't get a permanent job? What if they don't like me? What if.... What if.... 

So now that I have had a big adrenaline rush, now I'm coming down hard. And reality is sort of setting in. But hard. You know.... reality with a good hard kick of paranoia and fear attached. A bad case of "what if's" that take those necessary questions to the next level. The crazy level. 

Oh Lord, I'm exhausted, and I don't even know if they are going to call me for an interview?! 

So I remind myself of "deep thoughts" from those who've been around the sun a few more times than I have. And my favorite quote keeps coming to mind... "God took care of my dumb ass when I was out there drinking, what makes me think He won't take of me now?!" RIP Gene, you were one of kind my friend. 

This was my "Slice of Life" today. To read other blogger's who've joined this writing challenge (write everyday for the month of March and publish to Two Writing Teachers "Slice of Life" challenge posts), click on the orange slice. It should direct you to today's post, scroll down to the comments and choose a link, read and enjoy.

Instigating Chaos and the Illusion of Control

 "Don't sabotage your peace just because chaos is familiar." I ran across this quote somewhere on social media. It was not attributed to anyone, so I cannot give the credit it is due. But it takes me back to a conversation I had recently with a friend. I had been craving a drink. And I have a little time between me and bottle now, so while it's not the end of the world to have a craving, it is something to sit up and take note of. Maybe make a few changes in my daily routine and habits to fill my life with more things that bring me contentment, not restlessness and discontent. What we spoke of was that I was craving chaos. I said I wanted a chaos that I created, that I controlled, instead of the chaos of the unknown. I was craving sex, drugs, and rock and roll. To oversimplify. 

Isn't it funny (ironic funny, not so much ha-ha funny) how my desire for control would lead me to an act of loss of control and chaos? 

Don't we all desire to control our destiny? If you study the cycle of abuse, the abused sometimes provokes the abuser to end the constant fear of never knowing what is coming next. Provoke it and you'll know what is next. Violence.

Right now I have a home life situation that causes me resentment. And I feel like I can't control it.... the situation or that I feel resentful. But if I instigate conflict, I can feel justified in my anger and less like a heel for holding onto this grudge so tightly. Sometimes I provoke an argument. Then I feel vindicated in my seething rage. Yuck. Not a pretty thing to look at. But it drives home to me that yes, I really do crave that control over my life and the unknown. I want to know what is unknown and I want to control that which I cannot control. Even if it is self-inflicted chaos. 

So I'll sit with this. And I'll mull it over. And I'll pray it over. And maybe, just maybe, I gain the courage to release the need to feel in control and trust God to take care of me, once again, as He always does. 

The Slice of Life challenge: write every day for each day in the month of March and post your writing on the Two Writing Teachers page in the comments for each day. Click the orange slice to read everyone's slice for today. 

What Does Love Look Like?

 I have come to a place in my life where I consider myself more of a spiritual person and less of someone following a set of religious rules. Ironically enough, the longer I pursue God in light of this freedom from rules, the more I have seen my gravitation toward the God of my youth, the God of the Bible. I still hold a giant grudge against so called Christians, and as I learn to pray more, I realize I have to pray about this because this giant boulder on my shoulder ain't goin' away without some divine intervention. You know, we have all been hurt in life. No one gets out of this journey unscathed. Ultimately, no gets out alive. 

I've come to realize that believing in God and even the God of the Bible is very different that swallowing the fundamentalism bullshit that has been served to me over the years. 

God is love. And as such, God desires good for everyone. Another blogger wrote yesterday about kindness and how kindness has essentially bit them in the ass. And not to expect kindness from them any longer. I am a big proponent of kindness. As I am of love. Agape love. All we need is love. Love is the answer, what was the question? Love, love, love. More love, less hate. Hate is too great of a burden to bear, I will choose love. Love is patient. Love is kind. 

But I think we've taken the Kindness Revolution and the Love Wins ideal too far. When do we count? How can we be kind all time and still "win" (for lack of a better term)? Sometimes I think we have to choose what kind of love and what kind of kindness we will pursue. Appearing kind in a world of hate is admirable, but if it allows others to manipulate us and trample us, what is the point? We must be kind and loving to ourselves first. And that doesn't always look like love, peace, kindness to the outside world. Or even to ourselves. Because we've been shamed into believing we must not hurt anyone else even if it means we are withering and dying inside and our souls are screaming that love is a lie and begging to be saved. This is when we are the only ones who can save us. God made us intelligent. God made us empathetic. But God (the crazy, unorthodox God I've come to know) never intended for us to lay and down and be trampled by people because we "love" them. Sometimes love looks like a mental wrestling match where we triumph over our own crippling thoughts and misconceptions and find the truth of self-love. Love and Kindness aren't always easy and the waters aren't always tame, sometimes it's a stormy sea of violent weather that sets us free. And this is also love. 

To read other Slices of Life, click on the orange slice. Hundreds of educators all over the world choose to write every day for the month of March and post it for the world to see. 

The Crazy Merri-go-Round Ride of Disability

 The ride that is disability. I was diagnosed with menopausal osteo-arthritis in my knees. My life changed drastically in what seems like a few days. I was walking 5 miles a day, three or four times a week and suddenly my knees were giving me pain and they were swollen and I felt crippled. I was very quickly only able to do my daily walking required by my job. Which wasn't nothing, but the walking for my health after work came to grinding halt. The following school year, with the help of steroid injections I was barely able to do the required walking that goes with teaching. I decided not to teach the following year. And I was able to get a job, one I was probably not as able to carry out as I implied when I was hired, but I got a job nonetheless. Through unrelated circumstances though, I was forced to abandon this job for the sake of my family. Now, however, my knees were bad enough that I couldn't fool my way into another job. So I filed for disability and fought for an agonizingly long 15 months to get approved. During this time, I burned through my KPERS (my retirement), and relied on the kindness of others to pay my Electric bill every month. I learned that it's possible to live on nothing. Fortunately, my house was paid for, I was only neglecting my taxes and home owners insurance. 

During this unsettled time, I had both of my knees replaced. Total knee replacement surgery first in the left knee and then six months later, in the right knee. The right has always been the easy one. It healed fast, it has better flexibility and mobility range. The left one I've fallen on twice. It swells, it gets tight, it is hard to lift my left leg without pain. I am, to my dismay, disabled. A fall risk. 

Some days are better than others, but the truth is, it's a merri-go-round ride. It will come around to the pain and swelling again without a doubt. I find myself once again in physical therapy. My therapist is a miracle worker and simply amazing. I must admit that. But here's what I'm seeing.... 

When I work too hard in pt, I have pain and swelling, making me inactive and sitting around with hot packs on my knees and this crazy nerve on the left side that sends pain pulsing down my hip, thigh, knee, calf to my ankle. But being less active flairs the pain again, making me less flexible, less adapted to a life resembling normalcy, and more likely to sit, sit, sit. Which in turn increases my fall risk, my inability to gain more flexibility and long-term mobility. I feel trapped in a very real, very unnerving (har-har) cycle. More movement = more swelling, pain, and "tightness." More tightness and pain = less movement. Less movement makes it so that when I do stretch, do PT exercises, work to strengthen and lengthen, I face soreness, tightness, and swelling. Forcing me to slow down again. Making me admit, that in this moment, I am, truly, disabled. I may not be forever, that is my hope, my prayer. But my current status not just a title, but reality.

See the cycle. It drives my mind into insanity, thinking perhaps I'll never be able to return to my passion... teaching. Will I be strong enough to maybe substitute teach a couple times a week? Currently this is my prayer. But I have these hopes and aspirations that I'll be able to teach full time again. That one day I'll have the strength and stamina to submerge myself into the chaos that is teaching again. But for now, I keep riding the merri-go-round. I keep fighting the pain and swelling. I keep hoping. Keep going with the ebb and flow that is disability. 

The Comforts of Home

Tonight I sit in the comfort of my living room and I wonder about the plight of the homeless. In the town near me, there seems to be an alarming and growing population of homeless. Their needs are beyond what I can conceive from my seat in my own warm home. There's a page I follow that's a "gossip" page and there is a post about a homeless man who needed some way to stay warm and out of the weather one night this week. The person who posted had spoken with the homeless man and was requesting help for the man for shelter and warmth. The overwhelming responses were from people willing to donate blankets, financial resources to help the man seek shelter, to bring warm meals. This warmed my heart. However, there is always one.... 

One of the first comments I saw read: "Has he applied for jobs? Has he?" 

This got my blood pressure up pretty quick. Why? What's so wrong with this question anyway? Well, hold on a minute while I clamor up onto my soap box. 

Here we go....

Let me start with the idea that whether or not this man is worthy of assistance seems to be tied up with whether or not he has applied for jobs. This is wrong on so many levels. Starting with the fact that the man deserves to be sheltered and fed whether or not you want to know about his job history! Don't even get me started on the entitled dictating to the less fortunate how to pull themselves out of the gutter. This chaps my hide faster than you can say "boo." Most of us have no idea what it is like to try and survive on the streets. When you're cold and hungry and dirty and haven't showered for days, is it really realistic to think you should be out pounding pavement for a job? In education, kids come to us hungry and tired and stressed out on the daily. Educators have the saying "Maslow before Bloom." Bloom's taxonomy of learning is central to education. And we all know about Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Your basic physiological needs must be met before you can address even the next hierarchy of safety (i.e. employment), and learning is hirer up yet. But for our homeless man scenario, the first items of business would be finding a place out of the wind and rain, finding food and a place to rest of the night. The brain cannot focus on the need to be gainfully employed or how to reasonably achieve this when those baseline needs are not met. Can I get an amen? 

Now, the pendulum does swing both ways. One poster said that she had a camper in her backyard hooked to electricity and he could stay there. That seemed foolish to me. Another poster mentioned that the homeless man of mention had attacked them previously. And desperation makes people do crazy stuff. I am not sure I'd invite this homeless man or any homeless person to my home and expose myself and all my earthly possessions to them. But I've been down and out and I have witnessed the goodness of others who have reached out and taken care of me. I can't discount the need for people to be good to others. I have been the recipient of such goodness. Maybe that is why I'm such the bleeding heart. I just get twisted off pretty fast when people are hard on the down-trodden. Show some compassion for goodness sake! Or badness sake! For sakes people! Be compassionate! You do not know anyone else's story or the depths of their sorrows!

March is "Slice of Life" month when teachers (in particular), educators and students link up and commit to write daily for the month of March. If you want to experience other Slices of Life writings, click on Slice of Life icon and it should take you to today's post. Links will be in the comments.