My essay has almost 6,000 votes and I am awed and flabbergasted.
I never expected that many people to know, or care, or want to help a stranger.
My past is a hard onion to unpeel.
I was never outright denied and education, and I was never told I could never attend college.
But imagine being told day after day about how terrible public school is, and horror stories from your mother about her drunk and horny history teacher? How would you feel about going to school then?
Or imagine reading multiple 'horror stories' about godly young people who were pulled astray while at secular and even some more liberal Christian Colleges? (and my parents would also call that an oxymoron)
Imagine Mother Gothel's overly syrupy tone 'encouraging you' to always take a separate path from the world? Telling you that you dont need a "scrap of paper" to tell people you are intelligent, well read, and have knowledge?
Yeah, that is the line I had to commit to memory. "College is REALLY expensive. And then, after spending around a quarter of a million dollars (yeah, that was the estimate I was told most often) and four to six years in a building, you get a piece of paper that tells the rest of the world you know something and can be hired."
(add a part about 4-year degrees taking about 5 or 6 years to complete being the average due to changing of majors, laziness in taking classes & failing, etc if you want to...)
"Why would you EVER want to do that? I can go out there and buy any book I want. I can even get most of them from the Library. Do I want to be a Botanist? Get books out of the library and memorize plant's latin names. Then plant and run a garden for a couple years. Do I want to know everything about the Revolutionary War? Again, read all the books you can find. Go and visit key battlegrounds and cities where events took place. By all means, learn and study and get and education! But NOT at a college. We can render them obsolete."
And this last one was a nice bundle of issues: "Fine, if you want a college degree, you can get an English degree at the local community college. CLEP out of as much as you can, and only go in for one or two semesters (CollegePlus was always suggested). Then, when the government takes away our right to homeschool you can file as a teacher and have your own school with your kids in it, and any unfortunate other homeschoolers who did not prepare their daughters in this way."
Now, one thing I can claim is that I did have an exemplary homeschooled education. My mother had a college degree and she spent long hours making lesson plans and working out classes for us. We were required to have 80% mastery of anything we were tested on. If you did not, you would go back and study, do full corrections until you got everything right, and then re-take the test.
This applied for Math, the sciences, any written or oral tests she made up for history, and any English tests we came upon. We did Saxon Math, so it was fairly easy to grade those by percent and have us re-do lessons. Failing a test meant going back over all the practice of the lessons the test covered and re-taking the test. In Wile Science, we re-did modules and the Quarterlies (I failed Chemistry a couple times) were made to re-do all the modules double-time. (because we should have most of the information memorized)
I didnt fail much in English, but the essays were not given a percent. Unless they had so much red that it was hard to see the essay, we didnt re-write those very much.
I loved reading and did a lot of that once I hit puberty and became embarrassed about my size. Sitting on the couch curled up was a safe place for me where no one could see my hairy underarms (I wasnt allowed to shave for a while) or tease me for my curves.
I am a fast learner, my family calling me the one with the "mind like a steel trap." I love History and I do well in English and writing.
My younger siblings are not receiving the education I did, because there are more little kids to care for, because we older siblings arent around to take care of a lot of the house duties and because my mother is much older and much more worn down than she was teaching the 'first round.'
Also, I am seeing significant (sometimes purposeful) gaps in her current methods of teaching now that I am out in the world and finding out how reality differs from the family bubble...
To Be Continued.....
November 25, 2012
November 15, 2012
Update: College
I paid my tuition, lab fees, parking sticker, etc, today in full.
I just have to get my books and I'm all set for the Spring semester. :)
My essay keeps getting voted for, and keeps the top spot.
When it gets entered in the second drawing it will hopefully meet the same enthusiastic response.
The money from that should more than cover my fall semester and maybe even some of next spring.
Its crazy because I wasnt counting on winning it at all. It was a shot in the dark, hoping that some of my friends would vote. I feel so encouraged and capable. Like I can do this, and knock it out of the park, and get all "A's" because I CAN.
As I waled out of the college to my car this afternoon, my receipt in my hand, I cried so hard I had to wait a couple minutes before driving. I never ever thought I would be doing anything like this.
I never thought I would make it.
I never thought I could do it.
I didnt believe I was worth it.
But this past two weeks: I have found out that I am.
I just have to get my books and I'm all set for the Spring semester. :)
My essay keeps getting voted for, and keeps the top spot.
When it gets entered in the second drawing it will hopefully meet the same enthusiastic response.
The money from that should more than cover my fall semester and maybe even some of next spring.
Its crazy because I wasnt counting on winning it at all. It was a shot in the dark, hoping that some of my friends would vote. I feel so encouraged and capable. Like I can do this, and knock it out of the park, and get all "A's" because I CAN.
As I waled out of the college to my car this afternoon, my receipt in my hand, I cried so hard I had to wait a couple minutes before driving. I never ever thought I would be doing anything like this.
I never thought I would make it.
I never thought I could do it.
I didnt believe I was worth it.
But this past two weeks: I have found out that I am.
November 12, 2012
Amazed
I feel humbled and so amazed by the enthusiasm that people have shown for my "cause."
I did not expect anyone except friends to notice it and I hoped to be selected for the top 10 essays based on merit and my essay, not on votes.
Some people were asking if they could donate directly, so my sister set up a ChipIn account for me:
Jenni's College: ChipIn Account
I signed up for 4 classes (11 credits) this morning. With my hard work and savings, I have enough money for tuition and books. Gas and other expenses I will keep working to support. I had to change my availability around at work, but after 2 years of open availability, hopefully they will be sympathetic to me going to school.
All this rolls into motion January 10th, so I will definitely be updating this as often as possible.
I have over 2,000 votes for my essay, and the next leader has a bit over 850.
When the second round of voting comes through I will definitely update as well.
I did not expect anyone except friends to notice it and I hoped to be selected for the top 10 essays based on merit and my essay, not on votes.
Some people were asking if they could donate directly, so my sister set up a ChipIn account for me:
Jenni's College: ChipIn Account
I signed up for 4 classes (11 credits) this morning. With my hard work and savings, I have enough money for tuition and books. Gas and other expenses I will keep working to support. I had to change my availability around at work, but after 2 years of open availability, hopefully they will be sympathetic to me going to school.
All this rolls into motion January 10th, so I will definitely be updating this as often as possible.
I have over 2,000 votes for my essay, and the next leader has a bit over 850.
When the second round of voting comes through I will definitely update as well.
November 9, 2012
Please vote and share!
The election is over, but I have a new thing to vote for: Myself!!
There is 173 days left to vote.
The top ten voted essays get promoted and ten others chosen by the staff.
Results to come in June.
It would be nice to get some money for fall classes.
On Monday I sign up for a spring semester of 11 classes and a whole new life!!
There is 173 days left to vote.
The top ten voted essays get promoted and ten others chosen by the staff.
Results to come in June.
It would be nice to get some money for fall classes.
On Monday I sign up for a spring semester of 11 classes and a whole new life!!
November 1, 2012
Cursed
"They cursed me," I told him.
"Cursed?" He was incredulous in a bemused way like I had insisted I could pulled a bunny from my pants pocket.
"What do you think that means?"
I tried to explain about the hedge of thorns and the implications of being told (every time the subject came up) day in and day out that leaving home meant being homeless, unloved, poor, starving, cold, probably a drug addict and driven to the desperation of prostitution.
It is hard to look at all that and not nod and remember. But now it also sounds ludicrous. Like someone told a stupid joke with no punch line. "Haha ha.... you are joking, right?"
He asked me what the implications of these 'curses' were on my life and mentioned examples people fulfilling the curse through their own mistaken beliefs. While I saw what he meant, I dont think he fully understood my point, or the weight of these predictions over the head of a Quiverfull Daughter.
I work my butt off (excuse the euphemism) every day to prove to my mother that I am not lazy.
I clean more (and more thoroughly) than anyone at work to prove to my mother that I am not going to turn into a slovenly hoarder.
I keep up on theology and god and all that Koine to prove to my father that I am not one of those brainless children with no spine and no thinking capability or reasoning skills.
I smile and be polite to everyone no matter how I feel about them to show my parents I learned what they said about respect. Especially when people dont deserve any of it.
I am pushing and fighting and clawing tooth and nail against all the lies in order to show them that I can succeed and have real friends and be loved apart from a rigid set or religious rules.
To prove them wrong
To "have a reason for the hope that is in me"
To try to convince them to see my point of view
To get them to love me.
Because in the end, the curse is that no matter how hateful and unsupportive they are, and no matter what lies they tell the kids about me, and no matter how long they refuse to love me for who I am; I will be seeking and attempting to earn their love.
I will be trying to have a real family and real parents who really want what is best for ME, not what their little brown booklet says when opened to a certain page.
Its a blessing, and a curse.
"Cursed?" He was incredulous in a bemused way like I had insisted I could pulled a bunny from my pants pocket.
"What do you think that means?"
I tried to explain about the hedge of thorns and the implications of being told (every time the subject came up) day in and day out that leaving home meant being homeless, unloved, poor, starving, cold, probably a drug addict and driven to the desperation of prostitution.
It is hard to look at all that and not nod and remember. But now it also sounds ludicrous. Like someone told a stupid joke with no punch line. "Haha ha.... you are joking, right?"
He asked me what the implications of these 'curses' were on my life and mentioned examples people fulfilling the curse through their own mistaken beliefs. While I saw what he meant, I dont think he fully understood my point, or the weight of these predictions over the head of a Quiverfull Daughter.
I work my butt off (excuse the euphemism) every day to prove to my mother that I am not lazy.
I clean more (and more thoroughly) than anyone at work to prove to my mother that I am not going to turn into a slovenly hoarder.
I keep up on theology and god and all that Koine to prove to my father that I am not one of those brainless children with no spine and no thinking capability or reasoning skills.
I smile and be polite to everyone no matter how I feel about them to show my parents I learned what they said about respect. Especially when people dont deserve any of it.
I am pushing and fighting and clawing tooth and nail against all the lies in order to show them that I can succeed and have real friends and be loved apart from a rigid set or religious rules.
To prove them wrong
To "have a reason for the hope that is in me"
To try to convince them to see my point of view
To get them to love me.
Because in the end, the curse is that no matter how hateful and unsupportive they are, and no matter what lies they tell the kids about me, and no matter how long they refuse to love me for who I am; I will be seeking and attempting to earn their love.
I will be trying to have a real family and real parents who really want what is best for ME, not what their little brown booklet says when opened to a certain page.
Its a blessing, and a curse.
October 23, 2012
They Told Us Lies
My brain is a harsh and cruel place. Sometimes I hate being stuck in it and with it and I would do just about anything to get away for a while, or even forever.
We were driving by a mega-church this morning, and there were little kids on a hayride driving around the borders of the expansive church property. They were enjoying the warm fall day and waving at the people in the cars driving by with little-kid innocence and abandon.
My companion said: "Awww, look at those cute kids waving"
My Brain thought: "Its a shame, they are there because their parents attend that terrible mega-church and they are probably being indoctrinated in the newly-built mega-wing that is going to be a school."
Sometimes I blame it on my parents and the teachers they listened to and who they let teach me and my siblings. Because THEY TOLD US LIES.
And being lied to does something to a brain and a heart and to a child's person that is hard to take back of fix or heal.
They lied to us.
They lied.
They told me that if I ever left home, and my father's umbrella of protection I would never be successful. No one would hire me or see my good qualities and I would never make it. I would turn out having to sell my body as a last resort and probably end up pregnant and homeless and a drug addict.
They told me that if I learned to be "Independent" I would never be loved and no guy would want me because I would never be able to work with him or have a giving and sharing relationship.
They told me if I had sex with a guy without some kind of long-term commitment (marriage, etc) that he would use me and then abandon me when he was tired of me.
I was told that if I seek I would find. I was told that "God" would respond to an open and desiring heart. I was told that I would find peace at home with my family and a true calling.
I was told that pursuing higher education was pointless and a waste of money because my "highest calling" was marrying some man I was told was a good man and having 15 of his children.
I was told that my intelligence was only for teaching kids and not for changing the world.
And I was told not to develop ME because what God wanted from me was to be the mirror of some man.
And all of that was LIES.
So now, 2 years away from all of it, and I am still fighting for my life.
Literally, for my every day-by-day waking moment to be free and to find out the truth.
And I have to fight against my cruel instincts and my head which seems to want nothing more than to destroy all my progress so far.
But I keep fighting.
Because giving up is a lie.
We were driving by a mega-church this morning, and there were little kids on a hayride driving around the borders of the expansive church property. They were enjoying the warm fall day and waving at the people in the cars driving by with little-kid innocence and abandon.
My companion said: "Awww, look at those cute kids waving"
My Brain thought: "Its a shame, they are there because their parents attend that terrible mega-church and they are probably being indoctrinated in the newly-built mega-wing that is going to be a school."
Sometimes I blame it on my parents and the teachers they listened to and who they let teach me and my siblings. Because THEY TOLD US LIES.
And being lied to does something to a brain and a heart and to a child's person that is hard to take back of fix or heal.
They lied to us.
They lied.
They told me that if I ever left home, and my father's umbrella of protection I would never be successful. No one would hire me or see my good qualities and I would never make it. I would turn out having to sell my body as a last resort and probably end up pregnant and homeless and a drug addict.
They told me that if I learned to be "Independent" I would never be loved and no guy would want me because I would never be able to work with him or have a giving and sharing relationship.
They told me if I had sex with a guy without some kind of long-term commitment (marriage, etc) that he would use me and then abandon me when he was tired of me.
I was told that if I seek I would find. I was told that "God" would respond to an open and desiring heart. I was told that I would find peace at home with my family and a true calling.
I was told that pursuing higher education was pointless and a waste of money because my "highest calling" was marrying some man I was told was a good man and having 15 of his children.
I was told that my intelligence was only for teaching kids and not for changing the world.
And I was told not to develop ME because what God wanted from me was to be the mirror of some man.
And all of that was LIES.
So now, 2 years away from all of it, and I am still fighting for my life.
Literally, for my every day-by-day waking moment to be free and to find out the truth.
And I have to fight against my cruel instincts and my head which seems to want nothing more than to destroy all my progress so far.
But I keep fighting.
Because giving up is a lie.
October 19, 2012
Therapy Diaries
"One of your best assets is that Tenacity of yours..."
I looked up and he was smiling kindly at me.
"How would you summarize what I've been saying so far?" he asked suddenly.
He had never asked me that before. And I tilted my head and tried to put together a cohesive sentence in the jumble of things that came up today...
"I'm thinking 4 or 5 words..." he tried to help me along.
"Go your own way?" I tried.
His face split into a big smile. He like that and liked the wording and the fact that I was on the right track.
"Mine was going to be 'You are underestimating yourself.'"
He had me again. Large warm tears came spilling out. It had been a while since I sobbed in Therapy, so I didnt bother getting a tissue. I dont know how it always seems to happen like this. I did NOT want to go to therapy that morning. It was so warm in bed and I was so tired from a long week and an emotional altercation too fresh for much inspection. I went anyway and tried to think up plausible manipulative things to say to get out of a double session this week.
Sometimes, I go knowing it is the best thing for me. But today I went knowing that I had promised others and most of all myself that I would make the effort to get better for myself and for my future. And I couldnt get out of that promise. Yet, as always, I left feeling like no matter what awful terrible things life could throw at me, I could handle it.
Tenacity. He said it was remarkable and a good thing and that he wanted me to keep going and keep working on the goals I had set for myself. Because in the end he said I would be triumphant. I could find my ceiling and break through and find a new ceiling.
Because I couldn't control his thoughts, or how he judged people.
Because I wasnt going to try to win in a losing system.
Because I could find my role and not confuse it with someone else's.
Because I didnt have to be dependent on anyone, no matter how easy it was/is to fall back into that mode.
Because what other people say about me is none of my business.
Because I am. Things are. There is no deeper meaning or message to life. So many things merely are and exist as a function of cause and effect and choice; that attempting to perform harsh introspective surgery to wrest some divine imprint is foolishness.
"The door handle IS," I tell myself. Besides performing it's duty it is of no consequence to me.
And so I keep plugging away at life.... oh yes... my enduring tenacity.
But also learning to find happiness.
I looked up and he was smiling kindly at me.
"How would you summarize what I've been saying so far?" he asked suddenly.
He had never asked me that before. And I tilted my head and tried to put together a cohesive sentence in the jumble of things that came up today...
"I'm thinking 4 or 5 words..." he tried to help me along.
"Go your own way?" I tried.
His face split into a big smile. He like that and liked the wording and the fact that I was on the right track.
"Mine was going to be 'You are underestimating yourself.'"
He had me again. Large warm tears came spilling out. It had been a while since I sobbed in Therapy, so I didnt bother getting a tissue. I dont know how it always seems to happen like this. I did NOT want to go to therapy that morning. It was so warm in bed and I was so tired from a long week and an emotional altercation too fresh for much inspection. I went anyway and tried to think up plausible manipulative things to say to get out of a double session this week.
Sometimes, I go knowing it is the best thing for me. But today I went knowing that I had promised others and most of all myself that I would make the effort to get better for myself and for my future. And I couldnt get out of that promise. Yet, as always, I left feeling like no matter what awful terrible things life could throw at me, I could handle it.
Tenacity. He said it was remarkable and a good thing and that he wanted me to keep going and keep working on the goals I had set for myself. Because in the end he said I would be triumphant. I could find my ceiling and break through and find a new ceiling.
Because I couldn't control his thoughts, or how he judged people.
Because I wasnt going to try to win in a losing system.
Because I could find my role and not confuse it with someone else's.
Because I didnt have to be dependent on anyone, no matter how easy it was/is to fall back into that mode.
Because what other people say about me is none of my business.
Because I am. Things are. There is no deeper meaning or message to life. So many things merely are and exist as a function of cause and effect and choice; that attempting to perform harsh introspective surgery to wrest some divine imprint is foolishness.
"The door handle IS," I tell myself. Besides performing it's duty it is of no consequence to me.
And so I keep plugging away at life.... oh yes... my enduring tenacity.
But also learning to find happiness.
October 14, 2012
To him who knows to do good...
Last time I talked with my mother it ended with me basically shouting at her for over 5 minutes.
I dont talk/communicate/email/text her much. But she has my Birth Certificate and Passport (expired a bit ago, but I would still like to get it) which I asked for when I was in her area back in July. She looked at me (shocked) and said something about how it was her property, but she supposed I could have a copy.
I had been pestering her since July to send me the promised copies (and I have had tabs up on my Moz since then on getting a passport renewal and the necessary steps to getting a copy of a Consular Report of Birth Abroad since then as well) and she has been giving me empty promises since July.
Nothing new in that behavior, though. For shame.
Then, one of the times I reminded her (sometime in the middle of September, I believe), she manipulated a phone call out of it. I knew it was manipulation, but I hoped for a bit of reconciliation, and perhaps a semblance of a relationship? Yeah, way high hopes. Isnt it almost foolish how we keep hoping against all logic and past experience?
Anyway, the conversation started out pretty safe, talking about things and people and I was even honest with her when the conversation switched to me and my current life choices and some of the changes Ive been making recently...
Then, she asked me what I had done that day (my day off). I told her the truth. I had spent most of it at the Community College. I had been over my Application for Dependency Override again with a FAFSA counselor (which made me upset and cry, because he told me that since I could at any moment call my parents we were not estranged and I was not eligible) and turned down. I had taken an "Accuplacement Test" and done rather well (according to the Proctor, who should know, I guess). I had gotten in with an Advisor who looked over my scores, signed me up for an Associates in Business, and who wrote down a handful of classes for me to try my first semester. Then, I got my residency proven, so I can get the In-State Tuition rate.
I asked her for my Highschool Transcripts (which in the past she has sworn she can produce and would be willing to give out copies of), and one last time asked her to allow me to access the information I would need for a FAFSA.
She asked me: "Well, do you WANT to be my daughter?"
I got angry and began a tirade. She was completely silent the entire time. I told her that I was her daughter no matter what happened because I could never get away. I told her that SHE needed to act like a real MOTHER as well, I told her that I was an adult and that adult daughters did not (in the real world) lay around the house sucking off their parents teat. I also told her that to pretend that I would be allowed to go to college were I living at home was laughable and ridiculous.
I told her she was living in a fantasy world, rules by some outdated old book and made-up rules. I told her that they (she and her husband) were reading the book wrong, and that they loved their book and the rules more than they loved their children. I told her all their good works for keeping these rules were pointless. I told her that if she really wanted to live by the book's rules, here was one: "To him who knows to do good, and does it not, to him it is sin."
I told her that she and my father were living in sin because they had the power to do unlimited good. They could do SO much good, but they refused, and therefore all their works and rule-keeping and book-reading were going to backfire. I told her that by refusing to send me an email with a handful of numbers they were sinning. They didnt have to send me any money, they didnt have to support me currently (either financially or supporting my 'lifestyle' and/or life choices) and they didnt have to expend any energy or resources. They make so little and have so many kids that I would probably get a free ride anyway.
I ranted for quite some time. Then, I told her that I was angry and that I should probably stop because I did not see the conversation getting any better. I told her I wasnt sure if she was still there because I hadnt heard a sound since I started ranting, but I hoped the rest of her night was better than the phone call, and I was going to hang up now.
And then I hung up.
She texted me a couple minutes later saying that she was listening and hadnt wanted to say anything that would be seen as 'judging' me.
I never replied.
I dont talk/communicate/email/text her much. But she has my Birth Certificate and Passport (expired a bit ago, but I would still like to get it) which I asked for when I was in her area back in July. She looked at me (shocked) and said something about how it was her property, but she supposed I could have a copy.
I had been pestering her since July to send me the promised copies (and I have had tabs up on my Moz since then on getting a passport renewal and the necessary steps to getting a copy of a Consular Report of Birth Abroad since then as well) and she has been giving me empty promises since July.
Nothing new in that behavior, though. For shame.
Then, one of the times I reminded her (sometime in the middle of September, I believe), she manipulated a phone call out of it. I knew it was manipulation, but I hoped for a bit of reconciliation, and perhaps a semblance of a relationship? Yeah, way high hopes. Isnt it almost foolish how we keep hoping against all logic and past experience?
Anyway, the conversation started out pretty safe, talking about things and people and I was even honest with her when the conversation switched to me and my current life choices and some of the changes Ive been making recently...
Then, she asked me what I had done that day (my day off). I told her the truth. I had spent most of it at the Community College. I had been over my Application for Dependency Override again with a FAFSA counselor (which made me upset and cry, because he told me that since I could at any moment call my parents we were not estranged and I was not eligible) and turned down. I had taken an "Accuplacement Test" and done rather well (according to the Proctor, who should know, I guess). I had gotten in with an Advisor who looked over my scores, signed me up for an Associates in Business, and who wrote down a handful of classes for me to try my first semester. Then, I got my residency proven, so I can get the In-State Tuition rate.
I asked her for my Highschool Transcripts (which in the past she has sworn she can produce and would be willing to give out copies of), and one last time asked her to allow me to access the information I would need for a FAFSA.
She asked me: "Well, do you WANT to be my daughter?"
I got angry and began a tirade. She was completely silent the entire time. I told her that I was her daughter no matter what happened because I could never get away. I told her that SHE needed to act like a real MOTHER as well, I told her that I was an adult and that adult daughters did not (in the real world) lay around the house sucking off their parents teat. I also told her that to pretend that I would be allowed to go to college were I living at home was laughable and ridiculous.
I told her she was living in a fantasy world, rules by some outdated old book and made-up rules. I told her that they (she and her husband) were reading the book wrong, and that they loved their book and the rules more than they loved their children. I told her all their good works for keeping these rules were pointless. I told her that if she really wanted to live by the book's rules, here was one: "To him who knows to do good, and does it not, to him it is sin."
I told her that she and my father were living in sin because they had the power to do unlimited good. They could do SO much good, but they refused, and therefore all their works and rule-keeping and book-reading were going to backfire. I told her that by refusing to send me an email with a handful of numbers they were sinning. They didnt have to send me any money, they didnt have to support me currently (either financially or supporting my 'lifestyle' and/or life choices) and they didnt have to expend any energy or resources. They make so little and have so many kids that I would probably get a free ride anyway.
I ranted for quite some time. Then, I told her that I was angry and that I should probably stop because I did not see the conversation getting any better. I told her I wasnt sure if she was still there because I hadnt heard a sound since I started ranting, but I hoped the rest of her night was better than the phone call, and I was going to hang up now.
And then I hung up.
She texted me a couple minutes later saying that she was listening and hadnt wanted to say anything that would be seen as 'judging' me.
I never replied.
October 13, 2012
Long overdue, but short
Dear Readers:
(if there are any of you left!!)
I have been silent for a long time. I will be working on finding my voice again, but I'm not sure what all that will take. I have been through a lot this year, and this summer especially. And maybe some of this will come out in the wash, OR I will tell you about it in time....
But for now an update on current events and future plans!!
I am looking for a new/different/better job. I have been in retail in various ways for two years now with a very messed up company. I have been applying to about a dozen different retail jobs over the past two months now. I have received only one response from one company, and that was a letter in the mail saying that my application did not merit me a further interview.
I was encouraged to branch out of retail and look into corporate places for secretary work or some sort of clerical position. I will be working on that in this next week.
The unemployment rate in Charlotte is a bit higher than the national average and there are too many people willing to work for minimum wage. I survived a whole year on minimum wage and it was HARD. Because I have moved around my job a bit, I have gotten to a feasible rate that is high enough over minimum wage that I think no one wants to hire me for that much, especially in retail. I have been able to save a lot of money and to improve my living state and do things I would not have done otherwise. (Ie. I dont want to go back to scrounging at minimum wage)
So I am off to try for other kinds of work.
I am finally going to plunge ahead with college. I have been wanting and wanting and hoping to do it, College and have signed up for an Associates in Business starting in the spring. I am not sure exactly how many classes I will be able to take, and how much exactly it will cost, but I will do as much as I am able.
I cannot get Financial Aid due to refusal of my parents to lend me their tax information, and I cannot file as an Independent Student for another two years. I am not desirous of getting into debt, so I wont be taking a bank loan or any kind of student aid or anything like that.
HOWEVER, if you know of any awesome scholarships, or anyone willing to sponsor a determined, but poor, ex-fundie-daughter on her path to higher education and freedom: PLEASE send them to me.
I have plans to take a couple classes and work as much as I can to make ends meet.
I have decided to stay in Charlotte for the time being, at least until I get this degree and/or I get a solid direction on where I'm headed in my life.
I am/have been going to Therapy/Counselling since late June. It has made a tremendous change and it is significantly helping me in a couple things. In fact, it is partially his insistence that I go to College that has put the fan to my dimly lit embers of hope. I WANT to do this and he keeps encouraging me towards it. Says it will be a much better use of my intellect than the petty drama of Retail Life.
Any questions or things I missed?
I dont know. That is is for now, I think.
(if there are any of you left!!)
I have been silent for a long time. I will be working on finding my voice again, but I'm not sure what all that will take. I have been through a lot this year, and this summer especially. And maybe some of this will come out in the wash, OR I will tell you about it in time....
But for now an update on current events and future plans!!
I am looking for a new/different/better job. I have been in retail in various ways for two years now with a very messed up company. I have been applying to about a dozen different retail jobs over the past two months now. I have received only one response from one company, and that was a letter in the mail saying that my application did not merit me a further interview.
I was encouraged to branch out of retail and look into corporate places for secretary work or some sort of clerical position. I will be working on that in this next week.
The unemployment rate in Charlotte is a bit higher than the national average and there are too many people willing to work for minimum wage. I survived a whole year on minimum wage and it was HARD. Because I have moved around my job a bit, I have gotten to a feasible rate that is high enough over minimum wage that I think no one wants to hire me for that much, especially in retail. I have been able to save a lot of money and to improve my living state and do things I would not have done otherwise. (Ie. I dont want to go back to scrounging at minimum wage)
So I am off to try for other kinds of work.
I am finally going to plunge ahead with college. I have been wanting and wanting and hoping to do it, College and have signed up for an Associates in Business starting in the spring. I am not sure exactly how many classes I will be able to take, and how much exactly it will cost, but I will do as much as I am able.
I cannot get Financial Aid due to refusal of my parents to lend me their tax information, and I cannot file as an Independent Student for another two years. I am not desirous of getting into debt, so I wont be taking a bank loan or any kind of student aid or anything like that.
HOWEVER, if you know of any awesome scholarships, or anyone willing to sponsor a determined, but poor, ex-fundie-daughter on her path to higher education and freedom: PLEASE send them to me.
I have plans to take a couple classes and work as much as I can to make ends meet.
I have decided to stay in Charlotte for the time being, at least until I get this degree and/or I get a solid direction on where I'm headed in my life.
I am/have been going to Therapy/Counselling since late June. It has made a tremendous change and it is significantly helping me in a couple things. In fact, it is partially his insistence that I go to College that has put the fan to my dimly lit embers of hope. I WANT to do this and he keeps encouraging me towards it. Says it will be a much better use of my intellect than the petty drama of Retail Life.
Any questions or things I missed?
I dont know. That is is for now, I think.
July 2, 2012
Listless
I am having Bi-Polar fears again.
I was having the best month all of June. Well, for the most part at least.
I felt really settled in to my new position at work and things were smooth and nearly effortless.
I found two awesome friends who invited me out to go bowling and watch movies and just hang out at the mall or at a park. It felt like I belonged and that there was something to look forward to.
Also, the summer finally set in with days reaching for triple digits and sometimes even hitting them.
I LOVE love love the heat and it made me feel energized and alive.
You couldnt wipe that smile off my face.
And then it happened. I was just too happy for it to last.
And I hit the low low last night. It was a bad time.
And today I just feel empty. Nothing matters and I dont care.
A lady tipped me $5 for washing out some jars for her and for having memorized her order and always making it the way she liked. A friend stayed up late last night texting me for an hour and a half at 1am just being there for me. It was a lot cooler, but still warm enough to be nice out. It is almost my birthday and I have always loved my birthday.
I am tired and depressed and I really dont give a fuck.
I feel listless and dead.
My shadow heart is the only thing thats beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Till then I walk alone.
I was having the best month all of June. Well, for the most part at least.
I felt really settled in to my new position at work and things were smooth and nearly effortless.
I found two awesome friends who invited me out to go bowling and watch movies and just hang out at the mall or at a park. It felt like I belonged and that there was something to look forward to.
Also, the summer finally set in with days reaching for triple digits and sometimes even hitting them.
I LOVE love love the heat and it made me feel energized and alive.
You couldnt wipe that smile off my face.
And then it happened. I was just too happy for it to last.
And I hit the low low last night. It was a bad time.
And today I just feel empty. Nothing matters and I dont care.
A lady tipped me $5 for washing out some jars for her and for having memorized her order and always making it the way she liked. A friend stayed up late last night texting me for an hour and a half at 1am just being there for me. It was a lot cooler, but still warm enough to be nice out. It is almost my birthday and I have always loved my birthday.
I am tired and depressed and I really dont give a fuck.
I feel listless and dead.
My shadow heart is the only thing thats beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Till then I walk alone.
May 25, 2012
Premature Grief
Grief is an obvious result when loss happens.
I have been working on this post for about a month now. It has been really hard to write and verbalize.
I will always remember her as one of my most favorite people in the world.
I remember thinking of her as the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I still do, in fact. She was what I wanted to be when I was her age.
I remember spending a lot of time doing things to please her.
I remember picking her flowers and making little gifts to give her and to get to spend more time with her.
I remember telling her things that I did not feel safe telling my own mother or parents.
I remember feeling safe confiding in her.
I remember one phone call where hearing her voice made me cry. She asked me what was the matter, and why I was crying, and I answered (honestly) that I loved her and missed her and was looking forward to seeing her soon.
I remember laughing about funny things.
I remember loving to hug her, and how welcome it felt to stop by their house.
I remember crying as we shared problems, as she gave me advice that I still believe and live by today.
I remember her being the only one who would stand up to my father and point an accusing finger in his face.
She did a lot to create and maintain a relationship with me and our family and my sister. I was always a little jealous that they were closer (or seemed closer) than I felt to her.
She was honest to a fault and always so sure of herself.
She felt deeply, but knew when to keep her mouth shut, and always had wise and far-seeing counsel when I needed it.
I loved her more than most people in my life, and I didnt know very many.
I also remember her eyebrows running together in a hard line as she surveyed me with disappointment and disapproval.
I remember sending her Martina McBride's "This One's For the Girls" because it made me think lovingly of her, and her cold response.
I remember crying when I read the hurtful things she said to me and my sister.
I remember feeling the betrayal and pain that consumed me.
I remember hearing her voice in my head as her last email cut me, basically invalidating my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and pushed me away.
I remember hearing from a third party the rumors that were being told about me.
I remember waiting for them to confront me with the allegations and at least allow me to answer the charges, or explain them, or laugh because they were blatantly untrue.
I remember spending a terrible Christmas Eve and the next morning, hurt and wanting nothing more than to run out the door when I had flown back there to purposely spend the holiday with them.
I remember feeling unwanted and stonewalled. Not allowed to even defend myself, they all just 'knew' it was true.
The last I heard about her, she sent my sister some texts which I was allowed to know the contents. I remember crying with my sister on the phone as I could hear her heart break and bleed.
I still hurt when I hear that song on the work radio station.
I hurt when I want to call her and just talk, but know that I cant.
I grieve when I talk with other people about their family.
The thing is: she isnt dead.
As far as I know she is alive and doing fine.
I miss her, and I wish I could reach out and hug her without being afraid of being stabbed by her disapproval and negative comments.
I wish I could spend a holiday with her and the other people in the family just being family.
She meant more to me than my own mother, and suddenly I find myself with another hole in my life where a friend used to be.
I feel like she died, when I know she is very much alive.
I love you, Grandmom. I miss how you used to be.
I have been working on this post for about a month now. It has been really hard to write and verbalize.
I will always remember her as one of my most favorite people in the world.
I remember thinking of her as the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I still do, in fact. She was what I wanted to be when I was her age.
I remember spending a lot of time doing things to please her.
I remember picking her flowers and making little gifts to give her and to get to spend more time with her.
I remember telling her things that I did not feel safe telling my own mother or parents.
I remember feeling safe confiding in her.
I remember one phone call where hearing her voice made me cry. She asked me what was the matter, and why I was crying, and I answered (honestly) that I loved her and missed her and was looking forward to seeing her soon.
I remember laughing about funny things.
I remember loving to hug her, and how welcome it felt to stop by their house.
I remember crying as we shared problems, as she gave me advice that I still believe and live by today.
I remember her being the only one who would stand up to my father and point an accusing finger in his face.
She did a lot to create and maintain a relationship with me and our family and my sister. I was always a little jealous that they were closer (or seemed closer) than I felt to her.
She was honest to a fault and always so sure of herself.
She felt deeply, but knew when to keep her mouth shut, and always had wise and far-seeing counsel when I needed it.
I loved her more than most people in my life, and I didnt know very many.
I also remember her eyebrows running together in a hard line as she surveyed me with disappointment and disapproval.
I remember sending her Martina McBride's "This One's For the Girls" because it made me think lovingly of her, and her cold response.
I remember crying when I read the hurtful things she said to me and my sister.
I remember feeling the betrayal and pain that consumed me.
I remember hearing her voice in my head as her last email cut me, basically invalidating my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and pushed me away.
I remember hearing from a third party the rumors that were being told about me.
I remember waiting for them to confront me with the allegations and at least allow me to answer the charges, or explain them, or laugh because they were blatantly untrue.
I remember spending a terrible Christmas Eve and the next morning, hurt and wanting nothing more than to run out the door when I had flown back there to purposely spend the holiday with them.
I remember feeling unwanted and stonewalled. Not allowed to even defend myself, they all just 'knew' it was true.
The last I heard about her, she sent my sister some texts which I was allowed to know the contents. I remember crying with my sister on the phone as I could hear her heart break and bleed.
I still hurt when I hear that song on the work radio station.
I hurt when I want to call her and just talk, but know that I cant.
I grieve when I talk with other people about their family.
The thing is: she isnt dead.
As far as I know she is alive and doing fine.
I miss her, and I wish I could reach out and hug her without being afraid of being stabbed by her disapproval and negative comments.
I wish I could spend a holiday with her and the other people in the family just being family.
She meant more to me than my own mother, and suddenly I find myself with another hole in my life where a friend used to be.
I feel like she died, when I know she is very much alive.
I love you, Grandmom. I miss how you used to be.
May 4, 2012
Free; still
I am still free.
I have to keep reminding myself that.
All the old pathways in my brain want to keep me in bondage and under the yoke; but it is my prerogative to undermine, overthrow, and vanquish them.
It has been warm, hot, beautiful, and muggy out. Singing comes easy to me again, at work, at the house, driving.... any time. I finally found a corner of the store where I can work my heart out and people notice and appreciate my efforts. I am generally undisturbed, and I can hide very easily from people I dont want to see or talk with. (yay!!) (not that I espouse the idea of running from troubles, but you know when you are having a more vulnerable day, the last thing you need is to get into that conversation that could be the bug-zapper to the rest of your week...)
I was walking in to work thursday (the night were we have a kid's eat free promo that brings 200 some kids and their nightmare parents) and I was singing under my breath. I was wearing a pretty shirt that I have liked since I was 12 or so (yeah, they still fit) and striding up to another day like I owned the world. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and realized that The Big White Van They Drive was in the handicapped parking spot (all the people at work call it that). The one older daughter was in the driver's seat, and she was staring at me hard. Inside, my mind recoiled at my outfit and called me immodest and I realized how unladylike my walk was and my dark eye-makeup and my hair down and shown-off for the whole world to lust at....
And then I LAUGHED at myself.
I was still free.
So I kept on walking into my job where I support myself, having driven there in a car I bought with my own sweat and that I dont owe a penny on, and had a normal day. I know she just recently learned to drive, being the only one of the girls with a driver's license. Her father is obviously quiverfull as the checks say " (dad's name) and Sons" and the women do all the shopping. I know she is stuck at home caring for her large family, elderly parents, disabled sister, special dietary needs, and probably a farm and a 'ministry' to boot.
The night before I had gone out with friends from work and drank a couple beers. We laughed, talked, made plans for a "May the 4th" Star Wars party, I drove one girl home, and slept like a log.
I am still free.
Later that night, as I was in the midst of the chaotic "after-closing-cleaning-time" for my section, I saw the other person who could make me feel inferior: the local ATI mom. She was at the Deli case, glaring at the Indonesian lady who was cutting her ham for her. I was singing and walking around with my huge colander on my hip and stocking veggies for the next business day. I looked at her hard and then turned around sharply (flipping my hair) and walked into the dish pit.
I am still free.
She can go home to her balding, ATI husband and her hard-working, depressed, unmarried daughters who have already made and served and cleaned up dinner after working in the garden all day, and wonder why they try so hard and dont really feel happy inside.
I could give her a couple pointers, but I dont think she would listen to a word I said.
Who cares? I am FREE.
I have to keep reminding myself that.
All the old pathways in my brain want to keep me in bondage and under the yoke; but it is my prerogative to undermine, overthrow, and vanquish them.
It has been warm, hot, beautiful, and muggy out. Singing comes easy to me again, at work, at the house, driving.... any time. I finally found a corner of the store where I can work my heart out and people notice and appreciate my efforts. I am generally undisturbed, and I can hide very easily from people I dont want to see or talk with. (yay!!) (not that I espouse the idea of running from troubles, but you know when you are having a more vulnerable day, the last thing you need is to get into that conversation that could be the bug-zapper to the rest of your week...)
I was walking in to work thursday (the night were we have a kid's eat free promo that brings 200 some kids and their nightmare parents) and I was singing under my breath. I was wearing a pretty shirt that I have liked since I was 12 or so (yeah, they still fit) and striding up to another day like I owned the world. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and realized that The Big White Van They Drive was in the handicapped parking spot (all the people at work call it that). The one older daughter was in the driver's seat, and she was staring at me hard. Inside, my mind recoiled at my outfit and called me immodest and I realized how unladylike my walk was and my dark eye-makeup and my hair down and shown-off for the whole world to lust at....
And then I LAUGHED at myself.
I was still free.
So I kept on walking into my job where I support myself, having driven there in a car I bought with my own sweat and that I dont owe a penny on, and had a normal day. I know she just recently learned to drive, being the only one of the girls with a driver's license. Her father is obviously quiverfull as the checks say " (dad's name) and Sons" and the women do all the shopping. I know she is stuck at home caring for her large family, elderly parents, disabled sister, special dietary needs, and probably a farm and a 'ministry' to boot.
The night before I had gone out with friends from work and drank a couple beers. We laughed, talked, made plans for a "May the 4th" Star Wars party, I drove one girl home, and slept like a log.
I am still free.
Later that night, as I was in the midst of the chaotic "after-closing-cleaning-time" for my section, I saw the other person who could make me feel inferior: the local ATI mom. She was at the Deli case, glaring at the Indonesian lady who was cutting her ham for her. I was singing and walking around with my huge colander on my hip and stocking veggies for the next business day. I looked at her hard and then turned around sharply (flipping my hair) and walked into the dish pit.
I am still free.
She can go home to her balding, ATI husband and her hard-working, depressed, unmarried daughters who have already made and served and cleaned up dinner after working in the garden all day, and wonder why they try so hard and dont really feel happy inside.
I could give her a couple pointers, but I dont think she would listen to a word I said.
Who cares? I am FREE.
April 20, 2012
The Old Standby
It was a dark and dimly lit hallway.
Dead light bulbs hadn't been changed in a long while, and the ones that remained were mostly older and looked like they were about to meet the same fate as their companions.
The carpeting was flattened and pulled up in places from careless passers-by. It had probably not been cleaned since it was first installed, and certain places were molding, matching the leaky water-spots in the ceiling above it.
The rooms that this hallway accessed were all back-doors to places that could have been anything. Walking through a doorway might transport you across the continent. It was always a chance he took.
The man expertly traversing the dirtier parts of the carpet looked like he didnt belong. Much older than his well-designed clothing, he had the suave, yet ruthless way of commanding attention when he appeared on the scene. No flashing accessories made him stand out, apart from his demeanor, yet he obviously knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do there.
He marched over to his chosen door and knocked sharply. It made rather little noise, considering how quiet the hallway always was. He waited a moment and then in a smooth, practiced movement, he pulled a single key from his vest pocket and opened the door.
The girl inside the room had heard his knock. She was waiting for him to force his way in, as he always did. No matter how many times she tried to change the lock, or move to a different building, he would somehow find her and weasel his way into the room she tried to hide in. Somehow, the rooms all looked the same when he came in. Bare, colorless, and almost sharp-edged. The color would shrink from the furnishings and the lights would fade, like he dimmed them with his sheer mind power. A general grey hue spread from the door as he pushed it open and engulfed the room. He didnt seem to notice as he greeted the girl with a sour smile and called her by name.
She didnt look up right away, focused sadly on the patch of floor he was standing on. When she looked up, her eyes were sad and voice tired.
"I thought you forgot about me. It has been a few months."
"How could I forget one of my favorites? I am your Old Standby, after all." His voice just as syrupy as his sneer.
Her voice was quavering when she managed to whisper out her reply:
"I was hoping you wouldnt come back."
He laughed in that terrible, heart-wrenching way of his. It struck fear into your very soul.
"There is no way you will ever be rid of me, dear," he growled as he strode across the room and glared down at her. He bent over and gripped her chin firmly and made her look into his eyes.
"You tried last time and remember how THAT turned out?"
He let go of her and her shoulders fell and she couldnt help but cry. It was true. No matter what she did the lurking shadow of Depression seemed to have access to her....
Dead light bulbs hadn't been changed in a long while, and the ones that remained were mostly older and looked like they were about to meet the same fate as their companions.
The carpeting was flattened and pulled up in places from careless passers-by. It had probably not been cleaned since it was first installed, and certain places were molding, matching the leaky water-spots in the ceiling above it.
The rooms that this hallway accessed were all back-doors to places that could have been anything. Walking through a doorway might transport you across the continent. It was always a chance he took.
The man expertly traversing the dirtier parts of the carpet looked like he didnt belong. Much older than his well-designed clothing, he had the suave, yet ruthless way of commanding attention when he appeared on the scene. No flashing accessories made him stand out, apart from his demeanor, yet he obviously knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do there.
He marched over to his chosen door and knocked sharply. It made rather little noise, considering how quiet the hallway always was. He waited a moment and then in a smooth, practiced movement, he pulled a single key from his vest pocket and opened the door.
The girl inside the room had heard his knock. She was waiting for him to force his way in, as he always did. No matter how many times she tried to change the lock, or move to a different building, he would somehow find her and weasel his way into the room she tried to hide in. Somehow, the rooms all looked the same when he came in. Bare, colorless, and almost sharp-edged. The color would shrink from the furnishings and the lights would fade, like he dimmed them with his sheer mind power. A general grey hue spread from the door as he pushed it open and engulfed the room. He didnt seem to notice as he greeted the girl with a sour smile and called her by name.
She didnt look up right away, focused sadly on the patch of floor he was standing on. When she looked up, her eyes were sad and voice tired.
"I thought you forgot about me. It has been a few months."
"How could I forget one of my favorites? I am your Old Standby, after all." His voice just as syrupy as his sneer.
Her voice was quavering when she managed to whisper out her reply:
"I was hoping you wouldnt come back."
He laughed in that terrible, heart-wrenching way of his. It struck fear into your very soul.
"There is no way you will ever be rid of me, dear," he growled as he strode across the room and glared down at her. He bent over and gripped her chin firmly and made her look into his eyes.
"You tried last time and remember how THAT turned out?"
He let go of her and her shoulders fell and she couldnt help but cry. It was true. No matter what she did the lurking shadow of Depression seemed to have access to her....
April 13, 2012
The Constant Loss
I had intended to write more last month. In fact, I had a lot planned, most of which got lost under the trampling footsteps of everydaylife.
I have been working this week on 'getting over' some old issues (stuff never seems to go away, ALL the way). I was very worked up one night this week because I read through some things I wrote/said a long time ago. Somehow my mother got mixed up in all this and I spent a good bit of time very angry and crying.
Walls are very understanding and good listeners.
The things that is hitting me now is the constant feeling of loss. Total, complete, and overwhelming loss. As an MK, when you move, or change countries, or schools, or mission agencies, you lose precious things. People, places, memories, special pets, climates..... the list is long.
When you experience serious changes in yourself, or in your life, especially in my case, you lose again.
You lose friends and whole portions of the family get lopped off like an arm infected with gangrene.
You lose your position in society, or your connections, because vicious rumors get spread around (in my case, I apparently cuss like a sailor) and people assume they are true. All because you changed.
Loss is like a phantom arm (that got cut off because it was infected with gangrene). You can still feel it even years after it was removed. People and situations remind you of this constantly. I had a customer greet me with: "Howdy!" just this Tuesday. I asked him if he was from New York, and he had just gotten off a plane, he said. My mother often uses that, and whenever she talks with her relatives from up there we kids can tell. Linguistics is another thing of hers that some of us kids got. I can hear faint elongations of vowels and I have started a couple nice conversations asking people where they come from and about how people talk.
I get barraged every day with all kinds of families that pass through the store. Some obviously hate eachother; like the old couple where the husband pushed the wife's food aside in order to grab some silverware, or the wife being rude because her husband spilled some rice on the counter. The children who order expensive drinks because they can and the parents rolling their eyes and grumbling at the kids under their breath. Some obviously are trying: like the mom who stopped talking to me and informed her daughter that right now she was busy, but in a minute she would give her a fruit smoothie. The daughter was about 8 months old, so I dont know how much of the message she got, but it worked to keep her quiet another couple minutes.
I am continually seeing signs of hurt in the children, like the one daughter who spilled soup onto her lap. She started crying (of course) but her mother refused my help (and the paper towels I had) and scooped the hot soup back into a cup and told her daughter to stop crying and eat. I am remembering and hurting with these kids, and wishing I could do something for them. I also remember my parents treating my problems with equal nonchalant-ness and curtness.
People with money troubles who ask their parents or grandparents for help leave me remembering that I have to stay healthy and not make any mistakes because I have to take care of myself.
People who talk about their childhoods and favorite locations in Charlotte, cartoons, childhood friends, music, etc remind me that it would take about 2,000 dollars and a lot of time to go visit the place where I grew up.
People who talk negatively about 'foreigners' dont know it, but they remind me that I have lived more than half my life in a country that was NOT the USA.
I try not to dwell on it, I promise.
But sometimes it catches up to you. The total, overwhelming loss of so many things that are (or were) precious to you.
And loss is a problem that is not curable.
Stress you can cure with a hot shower, a massage, chocolate or other good-feeling-enhancing foods, and by talking or exercise.
Pain you can take care of by R&R or ibuprofen.
Sickness can be helped with a bit of garlic and perhaps a prescription.
Anger you can take out on a punching bag, a friend, your pillow, or with a good cry.
:Loss is something that is not fixed without going back in time and/or effort on the part of many people that would be the equivalent of pulling the Grand Canyon back together.
I understand that it is part of life and everyone deals with it in differing degrees and blah, blah...
Right now; I am dealing with long term, constant loss.
Give me some space to weep.
I have been working this week on 'getting over' some old issues (stuff never seems to go away, ALL the way). I was very worked up one night this week because I read through some things I wrote/said a long time ago. Somehow my mother got mixed up in all this and I spent a good bit of time very angry and crying.
Walls are very understanding and good listeners.
The things that is hitting me now is the constant feeling of loss. Total, complete, and overwhelming loss. As an MK, when you move, or change countries, or schools, or mission agencies, you lose precious things. People, places, memories, special pets, climates..... the list is long.
When you experience serious changes in yourself, or in your life, especially in my case, you lose again.
You lose friends and whole portions of the family get lopped off like an arm infected with gangrene.
You lose your position in society, or your connections, because vicious rumors get spread around (in my case, I apparently cuss like a sailor) and people assume they are true. All because you changed.
Loss is like a phantom arm (that got cut off because it was infected with gangrene). You can still feel it even years after it was removed. People and situations remind you of this constantly. I had a customer greet me with: "Howdy!" just this Tuesday. I asked him if he was from New York, and he had just gotten off a plane, he said. My mother often uses that, and whenever she talks with her relatives from up there we kids can tell. Linguistics is another thing of hers that some of us kids got. I can hear faint elongations of vowels and I have started a couple nice conversations asking people where they come from and about how people talk.
I get barraged every day with all kinds of families that pass through the store. Some obviously hate eachother; like the old couple where the husband pushed the wife's food aside in order to grab some silverware, or the wife being rude because her husband spilled some rice on the counter. The children who order expensive drinks because they can and the parents rolling their eyes and grumbling at the kids under their breath. Some obviously are trying: like the mom who stopped talking to me and informed her daughter that right now she was busy, but in a minute she would give her a fruit smoothie. The daughter was about 8 months old, so I dont know how much of the message she got, but it worked to keep her quiet another couple minutes.
I am continually seeing signs of hurt in the children, like the one daughter who spilled soup onto her lap. She started crying (of course) but her mother refused my help (and the paper towels I had) and scooped the hot soup back into a cup and told her daughter to stop crying and eat. I am remembering and hurting with these kids, and wishing I could do something for them. I also remember my parents treating my problems with equal nonchalant-ness and curtness.
People with money troubles who ask their parents or grandparents for help leave me remembering that I have to stay healthy and not make any mistakes because I have to take care of myself.
People who talk about their childhoods and favorite locations in Charlotte, cartoons, childhood friends, music, etc remind me that it would take about 2,000 dollars and a lot of time to go visit the place where I grew up.
People who talk negatively about 'foreigners' dont know it, but they remind me that I have lived more than half my life in a country that was NOT the USA.
I try not to dwell on it, I promise.
But sometimes it catches up to you. The total, overwhelming loss of so many things that are (or were) precious to you.
And loss is a problem that is not curable.
Stress you can cure with a hot shower, a massage, chocolate or other good-feeling-enhancing foods, and by talking or exercise.
Pain you can take care of by R&R or ibuprofen.
Sickness can be helped with a bit of garlic and perhaps a prescription.
Anger you can take out on a punching bag, a friend, your pillow, or with a good cry.
:Loss is something that is not fixed without going back in time and/or effort on the part of many people that would be the equivalent of pulling the Grand Canyon back together.
I understand that it is part of life and everyone deals with it in differing degrees and blah, blah...
Right now; I am dealing with long term, constant loss.
Give me some space to weep.
March 12, 2012
while you are making other plans
Mrs. G always reminds me of this when I get caught up in how life is overwhelming me and/or when I am ranting about some manner of problem/inconvenience that life is filled with.
Life is what happens while you are making other plans.
I keep making plans and then doing something else entirely, and then going back to the original, and then doing nothing or anything, just to make do.
It is a different way of living for me and it is taking a lot of getting used to.
I am keeping up the work. I make enough to live and a bit to save. (and yeah, that is different from making a good living and saving) I got my first credit card (a secured one from the new bank I am with) that will hopefully give me a credit score sometime in the future and a good footing for any banking I will do. I took a class with certification to expand my knowledge and resume (Mixology, woot!!) and I will be trying to use that as well.
Oh, in other news I FINALLY got my GED diploma (yeah, dated September 1, 2010). And here I thought that the RP had slow agencies. :P
So, in the past 3 weeks I got two certificates to hang on my walls, and a bit more life-experience cred.
I am going to see my sister for St. Pat's and that should be awesome, as we havent seen eachother since December.
I am also seriously considering moving. Maybe it is the moving bug, maybe it is the irreplaceable boy who resides up in the frozen northland who keeps knocking over my walls and pulling me closer.
Oh, have I not mentioned him?
So.... there is this boy....
Life is what happens while you are making other plans.
I keep making plans and then doing something else entirely, and then going back to the original, and then doing nothing or anything, just to make do.
It is a different way of living for me and it is taking a lot of getting used to.
I am keeping up the work. I make enough to live and a bit to save. (and yeah, that is different from making a good living and saving) I got my first credit card (a secured one from the new bank I am with) that will hopefully give me a credit score sometime in the future and a good footing for any banking I will do. I took a class with certification to expand my knowledge and resume (Mixology, woot!!) and I will be trying to use that as well.
Oh, in other news I FINALLY got my GED diploma (yeah, dated September 1, 2010). And here I thought that the RP had slow agencies. :P
So, in the past 3 weeks I got two certificates to hang on my walls, and a bit more life-experience cred.
I am going to see my sister for St. Pat's and that should be awesome, as we havent seen eachother since December.
I am also seriously considering moving. Maybe it is the moving bug, maybe it is the irreplaceable boy who resides up in the frozen northland who keeps knocking over my walls and pulling me closer.
Oh, have I not mentioned him?
So.... there is this boy....
January 26, 2012
Understand
I dont understand.
It all comes down to those three words.
I did something today that was bold and unprecedented. It was something I had thought about doing but never dared do. Today I did it and it left me crying, curled up on the floor, and shaking all over.
It really challenged my view of authority and while it was good for me it was very very hard for me.
And then I found myself once more barraged by my past.
I dont really talk about God much any more because I dont understand. On one hand I feel guilt for how I am acting spiritually, but on the other hand, doing what I think I might should be doing out of guilt is a WRONG reason to do what I might should be doing.
The scriptures say to test God. To try Him. To taste and see.
The scriptures say not to test God and not to doubt and not to quench the Holy Spirit.
Which is it? I am by no means closed. I have in the past begged him for something to help me and I feel as yet alone and un-assisted. I have rudely demanded things for other people as proof, and still, things seem to hang by the same delicate thread, same as always.
I dont understand how I can be so broken and still be loved.
I dont understand why if he cares I am left broken and still have to fight against all the wrong that was ingrained in me. I dont understand how I can be told right and left stuff that I 'should' be doing that is going to solve my issues that just doesnt. If it works for them, why not for me?
As much as I want to believe, songs of 'surrender' and 'devotion' and 'when-I-reach-my-end-you-are-there' dont move me any more. How much more removed from selfishness do I have to be? What other things do I have to lose or give up?
I just dont understand any more.
I have tried. I am getting tired of trying. I want to know and to be able to be satisfied.
I want to stop crying and have 'peace' or whatever it is. How much more do I have to want it before he noticed?
It all comes down to those three words.
I did something today that was bold and unprecedented. It was something I had thought about doing but never dared do. Today I did it and it left me crying, curled up on the floor, and shaking all over.
It really challenged my view of authority and while it was good for me it was very very hard for me.
And then I found myself once more barraged by my past.
I dont really talk about God much any more because I dont understand. On one hand I feel guilt for how I am acting spiritually, but on the other hand, doing what I think I might should be doing out of guilt is a WRONG reason to do what I might should be doing.
The scriptures say to test God. To try Him. To taste and see.
The scriptures say not to test God and not to doubt and not to quench the Holy Spirit.
Which is it? I am by no means closed. I have in the past begged him for something to help me and I feel as yet alone and un-assisted. I have rudely demanded things for other people as proof, and still, things seem to hang by the same delicate thread, same as always.
I dont understand how I can be so broken and still be loved.
I dont understand why if he cares I am left broken and still have to fight against all the wrong that was ingrained in me. I dont understand how I can be told right and left stuff that I 'should' be doing that is going to solve my issues that just doesnt. If it works for them, why not for me?
As much as I want to believe, songs of 'surrender' and 'devotion' and 'when-I-reach-my-end-you-are-there' dont move me any more. How much more removed from selfishness do I have to be? What other things do I have to lose or give up?
I just dont understand any more.
I have tried. I am getting tired of trying. I want to know and to be able to be satisfied.
I want to stop crying and have 'peace' or whatever it is. How much more do I have to want it before he noticed?
January 25, 2012
Health
Last year I tried not to get sick and worked a lot and saved up a small sum of money.
This year, I am spending it all.
Ok, well, I actually found out that I cant spend it all. I am a very skinflinty skinflint and I get grouchy and moody and negative when my bank account numbers sink. I had a couple very bad days before I realized that I needed to pace myself by paychecks in order to avoid de-railing my progress.
So I have been taking care of myself.
I went for a complete physical, to the dentist, and to the eye doctor. I am also trying to go to the Chiropractor at least twice a month because my back is pretty messed up. I even went to the Dermatologist to get my "sressne" treated.
It is like setting myself up for a big mind-trip. I feel scared, but happy, and like an adult and a kid at the same time. It is my first time going without a parent along anywhere (except to pick up glasses once) and I am the one setting up the appointments, marking them on the calender, going, making the decisions, paying and working on follow-up. I am the one having to floss. I am the one making myself take a pill in the morning and evening. It is a lot all of the sudden.
Growing up, doctors were not necessarily evil. I remember my best present was a sphygmomanometer and a stethoscope. I learned how to take blood pressure and pulse and count respirations and I even studied a nursing textbook for a school subject. We went for certain shots/immunizations that my mom thought were necessary, and I had frequent ear infections so I went more often than the occasional big accident that needed stitches.
When our family came to America, doctor's visits suddenly became a huge expense that was difficult to justify. When another baby brought all the under-age children under state health care we went to the dentist and got all our cavities taken care of and got cleanings every 6 months. When we needed a 'physical' for a driving test we went with a parent present. When anything big happened we went, but never for 'trivial' stuff.
And so all this feels a bit much to me. Like an un-needed expense.
When I told my mom I had a doctor's appointment she asked how sick I was. When I said it was just a physical and wellness exam she asked if it was for a job. You dont "just go" to the doctor. There has to be a reason!
But that is my goal for this year. To take care of myself.
I put two papers on the edges of my mirror reminding myself of that.
My health is important. My emotional health is important. My skin's health is important.
My only 'new-year's-resolution' was to take care of myself and to wear perfume every day.
I havent worn it EVERY day, but I have remembered a large majority of the time.
See, what are you saving all those bottles for, anyway? What day will you need a huge bottle of perfume for?
Use it up! You are worth it!
This year, I am spending it all.
Ok, well, I actually found out that I cant spend it all. I am a very skinflinty skinflint and I get grouchy and moody and negative when my bank account numbers sink. I had a couple very bad days before I realized that I needed to pace myself by paychecks in order to avoid de-railing my progress.
So I have been taking care of myself.
I went for a complete physical, to the dentist, and to the eye doctor. I am also trying to go to the Chiropractor at least twice a month because my back is pretty messed up. I even went to the Dermatologist to get my "sressne" treated.
It is like setting myself up for a big mind-trip. I feel scared, but happy, and like an adult and a kid at the same time. It is my first time going without a parent along anywhere (except to pick up glasses once) and I am the one setting up the appointments, marking them on the calender, going, making the decisions, paying and working on follow-up. I am the one having to floss. I am the one making myself take a pill in the morning and evening. It is a lot all of the sudden.
Growing up, doctors were not necessarily evil. I remember my best present was a sphygmomanometer and a stethoscope. I learned how to take blood pressure and pulse and count respirations and I even studied a nursing textbook for a school subject. We went for certain shots/immunizations that my mom thought were necessary, and I had frequent ear infections so I went more often than the occasional big accident that needed stitches.
When our family came to America, doctor's visits suddenly became a huge expense that was difficult to justify. When another baby brought all the under-age children under state health care we went to the dentist and got all our cavities taken care of and got cleanings every 6 months. When we needed a 'physical' for a driving test we went with a parent present. When anything big happened we went, but never for 'trivial' stuff.
And so all this feels a bit much to me. Like an un-needed expense.
When I told my mom I had a doctor's appointment she asked how sick I was. When I said it was just a physical and wellness exam she asked if it was for a job. You dont "just go" to the doctor. There has to be a reason!
But that is my goal for this year. To take care of myself.
I put two papers on the edges of my mirror reminding myself of that.
My health is important. My emotional health is important. My skin's health is important.
My only 'new-year's-resolution' was to take care of myself and to wear perfume every day.
I havent worn it EVERY day, but I have remembered a large majority of the time.
See, what are you saving all those bottles for, anyway? What day will you need a huge bottle of perfume for?
Use it up! You are worth it!
January 20, 2012
Terminology
Last night I was having a conversation with my older brother on the phone. Among the subjects we discussed, we came to talking about isolating an elementary school child for kissing another child of the same gender. It was a real-situation that was told me by someone he introduced me to.
I called the actions taken stigmatizing. He called it protecting the child who was kissed who did not welcome the attention. While I was explaining my side he said: "So are you pro-gay now?" in a negative tone of voice.
I dont remember exactly what I responded, but I didnt deny the allegation and then later when I was typing someone as naively conservative in a make-shift world where they impose their worldview on their limited sphere he got upset and called me a "liberal."
I laughed. It didnt freeze me with fear or cause me to fall on the floor and cry convulsively. In fact, it meant nothing. I told him: "Well, you are welcome to think that but...." and continued with my line of thought.
In other circles this word is a "dirty" word. A mudslinging word that makes the other person rise up in righteous self-defense of their clear history of conservatism/whatever your antithesis may be.
I think his goal in doing that was to frighten me with "how far I have strayed" and to shepherd me back to the straight and narrow. In fact, he did complain about the "person I was living with" affecting me and he didn't know if it was "too late." To which I responded "Yes, heaven forbid I make any choices of my own. I am sure it was all (the people I live with) holding midnight seances in the dungeons..."
The fact is, brother, that my living situation is only part of what is affecting me. I work full time and I have held 3 jobs at the same time (worked all 3 in one day, once) and another one with a crazy lady that I no longer work for. I go to bars every now and then, I watch a LOT of news and sarcastic daily commentators, and I am very active on the internet. I read and think and reason and debate even myself on a daily basis.
I made these decisions myself.
The people I live with hold different views from me on a couple issues. When these topics come up I just don't argue because we have argued once or twice and we have agreed to disagree. And the fact is that I haven't made up my mind on a couple other issues and have set them aside to be resolved in the future.
Some things I feel strongly about, and I made these decisions on my own, with input from many sides, which I assure you, my upbringing and your views (also our father's views) featured strongly.
I cannot get away from my past. Who he trained us to be is strong within me. I fight it often. Every day, multiple times a day. Some battles I have won. I go to work and revel in it, because I love work and the people I work with and the atmosphere and I don't feel any twinge of guilt to be working and supporting myself and independent.
On some things, I still fight. Some I dont know if I will ever win. But all that aside, know that what I have put away of my childhood indoctrination I did not part with lightly. "Battle" and "fight" are not just metaphors. Living is a daily discovery of new challenges and issues that must be resolved for my own well-being.
The fact is that so many things he taught or envisioned just dont work out here. And facing the out-here reality has changed me more than any one person ever will.
And ps: your arbitrary designation of terminology did not intimidate me.
Here is a toast to living and living anew.
Live loved.
I called the actions taken stigmatizing. He called it protecting the child who was kissed who did not welcome the attention. While I was explaining my side he said: "So are you pro-gay now?" in a negative tone of voice.
I dont remember exactly what I responded, but I didnt deny the allegation and then later when I was typing someone as naively conservative in a make-shift world where they impose their worldview on their limited sphere he got upset and called me a "liberal."
I laughed. It didnt freeze me with fear or cause me to fall on the floor and cry convulsively. In fact, it meant nothing. I told him: "Well, you are welcome to think that but...." and continued with my line of thought.
In other circles this word is a "dirty" word. A mudslinging word that makes the other person rise up in righteous self-defense of their clear history of conservatism/whatever your antithesis may be.
I think his goal in doing that was to frighten me with "how far I have strayed" and to shepherd me back to the straight and narrow. In fact, he did complain about the "person I was living with" affecting me and he didn't know if it was "too late." To which I responded "Yes, heaven forbid I make any choices of my own. I am sure it was all (the people I live with) holding midnight seances in the dungeons..."
The fact is, brother, that my living situation is only part of what is affecting me. I work full time and I have held 3 jobs at the same time (worked all 3 in one day, once) and another one with a crazy lady that I no longer work for. I go to bars every now and then, I watch a LOT of news and sarcastic daily commentators, and I am very active on the internet. I read and think and reason and debate even myself on a daily basis.
I made these decisions myself.
The people I live with hold different views from me on a couple issues. When these topics come up I just don't argue because we have argued once or twice and we have agreed to disagree. And the fact is that I haven't made up my mind on a couple other issues and have set them aside to be resolved in the future.
Some things I feel strongly about, and I made these decisions on my own, with input from many sides, which I assure you, my upbringing and your views (also our father's views) featured strongly.
I cannot get away from my past. Who he trained us to be is strong within me. I fight it often. Every day, multiple times a day. Some battles I have won. I go to work and revel in it, because I love work and the people I work with and the atmosphere and I don't feel any twinge of guilt to be working and supporting myself and independent.
On some things, I still fight. Some I dont know if I will ever win. But all that aside, know that what I have put away of my childhood indoctrination I did not part with lightly. "Battle" and "fight" are not just metaphors. Living is a daily discovery of new challenges and issues that must be resolved for my own well-being.
The fact is that so many things he taught or envisioned just dont work out here. And facing the out-here reality has changed me more than any one person ever will.
And ps: your arbitrary designation of terminology did not intimidate me.
Here is a toast to living and living anew.
Live loved.
January 7, 2012
(untitled)
This post may be revolting to some of you because of the influences that brought me to do something this revolutionary/ridiculous/stupid/good/progressive/pickyourownanswer.
The other day I finished up a long day at work (piled on the tail of a lot of previous long days and holiday stress and issues with people) when a friend (from work) invited me to go out with him and some other people from work. I drove to the place (ok it was a bar) and found out that I had left my wallet (and hence my money and ID) at home.
I was tired and morose and pretty upset by everything, so I told them that I was going to just go home. They made a big fuss about buying me a beer and not needing any ID. And they did just that. My sister warned me sternly not to have more than two and I kept myself there because the second one was an IPA which I am not quite used to. It was such a good time just being with kind-hearted and accepting people in the loud and fun atmosphere of a bar. About 30 minutes after I got there another co-worker showed up.
He is an older man, quiet, with a deep bass voice and a super kind listening heart. He was relatively new so we hadnt talked much; but the other night I got to talk with him a lot.
While everyone else went outside for a smoke we shared about life and he talked about careers and his daughters and life for them. His kind father's heart really reached out to me and as we talked I really opened up. He was honest about things in his life and as we shared thoughts on religion and family values and decision-making and egalitarianism and honor and (of course) love. I showed him my mom's text and he talked a bit about parents and how things get in the way of thier love. He encouraged me a lot and reminded me of the only other father-heart I have known: Mr. M. 'Incredible'
He encouraged me to take time and to become more of who I was meant to be.
And his love and care for me (and I am sure the two beers) really calmed me down and I let go of some things.
And I texted my father:
I forgive you.
The other day I finished up a long day at work (piled on the tail of a lot of previous long days and holiday stress and issues with people) when a friend (from work) invited me to go out with him and some other people from work. I drove to the place (ok it was a bar) and found out that I had left my wallet (and hence my money and ID) at home.
I was tired and morose and pretty upset by everything, so I told them that I was going to just go home. They made a big fuss about buying me a beer and not needing any ID. And they did just that. My sister warned me sternly not to have more than two and I kept myself there because the second one was an IPA which I am not quite used to. It was such a good time just being with kind-hearted and accepting people in the loud and fun atmosphere of a bar. About 30 minutes after I got there another co-worker showed up.
He is an older man, quiet, with a deep bass voice and a super kind listening heart. He was relatively new so we hadnt talked much; but the other night I got to talk with him a lot.
While everyone else went outside for a smoke we shared about life and he talked about careers and his daughters and life for them. His kind father's heart really reached out to me and as we talked I really opened up. He was honest about things in his life and as we shared thoughts on religion and family values and decision-making and egalitarianism and honor and (of course) love. I showed him my mom's text and he talked a bit about parents and how things get in the way of thier love. He encouraged me a lot and reminded me of the only other father-heart I have known: Mr. M. 'Incredible'
He encouraged me to take time and to become more of who I was meant to be.
And his love and care for me (and I am sure the two beers) really calmed me down and I let go of some things.
And I texted my father:
I forgive you.
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