September 2005 Archives

I hit a dead end with my task at work, and my coworker (who was so kind as to invite me out to lunch with her) said I may as well go on home.

I'm so excited! I'm going home!

And tomorrow, I get to spend the day at the Renaissance Festival (for my birthday), which I've always wanted to go to but never had the money (nor company). It's Arabic day with "non-stop" bellydancing! I get to go with a guy who can quote Mac specifications when asked (teehee--When he did that in answer to a question I posed about my old iMac's capabilities, I was quite impressed!) And never, ever have I gone to a festival--or let alone anywhere--and had money. I already gushed to my friend, "...and if I get thirsty, I can actually buy a drink if I want!" Can you imagine? I've been in "look, don't touch/taste/participate/buy" mode for way too many years to be able to look at something and realize I could purchase it now if I want to. (Oh! And we're going to participate in a real tea, with "the Queen and her court ladies", overlooking the royal gardens, enjoying music, nibble on "scones, Devonshire cream, crumpets, chocolate covered strawberries and triffle". This was his idea, actually. How very cool.)

I think Sunday I may devote to my kids and my birthday. Sunday seems like a good day to go to the movies and maybe let Bri bake me a cake and open presents.

I'm giddy. I can't wait!

I'm sitting in my own little space, feeling the requisite safety, with all my things set up around me just so. I'm wearing comfy athletic pants from my workout, and both of those things feel good. I just enjoyed some pizza and a little can of Pepsi from my fridge, two treats, and watched my favorite tv show, a third. I have the whole evening to spend as I please, and am looking forward to a relaxing bath in a big tub filled to the brim with hot water and accented by candles. I have plans for my birthday weekend and birthday evening now, although this birthday will pale in comparison to the ones that have come before, but so what? I'm still looking forward to it. Yay for birthdays! Tomorrow I get to get up, look pretty, grab a paper and some Starbucks, and sit down at a desk with a computer and internet access and do the oh-so-taxing work of internet searching. I've actually been given autonomy over a task that I adore, and no one's treating me like an incompetent idiot or an outsider. In fact, last night I was being bought a glass of wine at the bar with my coworkers, and this morning I was greeted with hugs and offers of rocky road brownies. Tomorrow I get to go home (gas paid, with over $100 to spare) to see my kids, and in a few weeks, a friend is coming to visit.

Is this really happening to me? How long can this last?

I had the idea that perhaps every night I should eat dinner at a different restaurant until I'd tried every one in town. My thinking was motivated by hunger and I pulled into the first restaurant I came to, a chinese place.

I then sat in my car for a few minutes because I just had a bad feeling. But then I thought, hey, I'm hungry, I'm here, why not go in? How bad could it be?

It could be really bad, let me tell you. It could be the very worst restaurant experience I've ever had in my entire life, hands down. It could be that the "best buffet in town" actually was also the smallest I've ever seen. It could be that something that looks like a roasted red pepper, which I love, is actually just a pepper, and a super hot one at that.

I was two bites into my meal when the pain hit. I dropped my cheese rangoon (which was notably lacking in cheese anyway) on my plate. All I could do was close my eyes and draw inside myself, waiting for the increasing pain to pass. I even, at one point, found myself asking god to make it stop as I fought not to cry. I've gone through three natural childbirths with ease, and I am telling you that this was painful.

I couldn't figure out what to do about it, either. I knew water wouldn't help, but there was nothing at the scrawny buffet that would. Finally I sipped my ice water, sip after sip, eyes closed, nose dripping... I finished that, a waitress refilled my glass, and I sipped my way through that, too. I must've sat there for no less than five minutes in excruciating pain before I was even able to open eyes. It was a good ten to fifteen before I was mobile.

I returned to the buffet for something edible. Unfortunately, they had not a single thing I liked--and I'm not picky--except General Tso's chicken, and above that label was another: "Mildly spicy". I paused. Did I want to starve, or eat something mildly spicy? I decided to starve. I sat back down.

Then I was angry. No, gosh darn it, I was getting my money's worth! I went back to the buffet and filled my plate with donuts and shrimp. "Ha!" I thought. "I'm eating all your donuts!" Of course it quickly occured to me that each of them probably cost them only a few pennies, and I didn't really want them anyway, so I moved on to the shrimp.

I held a shrimp in my hands for a long time. It was the kind that usually grosses me out so much that I avoid even looking at such things. I was determined, however, and this time held the offensive thing in my hand. It had...legs. I picked and picked at it, then put it down. No way. Then my determination returned. I picked it back up. I fiddled with it some more. Finally, I did it! I pulled off the legs! My stomach turns thinking about it, but I ate that sucker. Then I ate another.

By that time the combination of the pepper and the revolting shrimp was turning my stomach. I stood up abruptly and left my "meal" unfinished before the bill even arrived. "Is everything okay?" the cashier asked. "Yeah," I mumbled, because what could I say?

Turns out the price of this lovely meal, which was suspiciously posted nowhere, was a good two dollars more than what I've ever paid anywhere for a Chinese buffet. I walked out in pain and nauseated, although technically I suppose that counts as no longer being hungry. I walked out with a fortune cookie, though, so there!

I've been dying for days to get on here and gush about how wonderful everything is. Just two hours earlier I was on cloud nine. I was feeling young, pretty, competent and desirable. I was watching my favorite tv show, I was awaiting the treat of an ordered pizza (which I don't even buy but maybe once a year on special occasions), sitting in my nice free hotel room with my own computer, new monitor, and internet access, and all my stuff. I was looking forward to indulging in a bath later, and contemplating whether I wanted to read a book, watch tv, or write... (What terrible decisions to have to make, huh?) Life seemed like it could hardly get better. --And then I called my kids for the first time since I arrived.

(Only day two up here and I'm already crying!) Shay was very understanding. By the time I'd explained all the benefits, including having my own mini-fridge and microwave in my room, she was squealing, "No fair! I want your job!" and I was a little smug, "Yeah, I know, it's great." But my confidence weakened as I talked with my littlest one, my son.

"...and...where are you again?... and...how long do you have to work?" were key questions for him.
"...but I can come home at least every other weekend!" I pointed out, "and they'll pay for it, too!"
"Uh huh," he said, politely.
"And I'll call you every night!" I assured him.
"Yeah..." he said.
"And we can send each other stuff on the computer, and I can send you things in the mail..."
He didn't sound convinced, and he definitely lacked Shay's enthusiasm. And the more I spoke, the more I heard myself in his ears. It's cool and all, but none of that makes up for the fact that his mother isn't there.

This isn't at all what I wanted to write about. I've been dying to tell someone (or anyone who would listen) about how wonderful this is all is. This may be the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's certainly one of the most life-changing.

--Just got off the phone with my mom, and now everything's better. I *can* come home every other weekend, and if I just put in these few months, the kids and I should never again, barring unpreventable catatstrophe, live in the poverty that we did. When this is over, I can finally move to be near them, in a nice place, with money to live on and savings, too.

Well goodbye, all!

I'll be offline for 36 hours or so, but hopefully I'll come up on the other side. See you there!

P.S.--If you have my number, feel free to call me. It's a long drive.

Something so good is coming my way that I can scarcely believe it. It's really too good to be true. As I said in chat last night: "You know, I've had bad things happen to me for so long, I don't think I would believe a good thing until it smacked me in the face. Repeatedly."

So I refuse to believe it. With all my "pretty sure" things that failed to come to pass (the Air Force internship and the flight attendant job, for starters) I wouldn't even expect you to believe me anyway. I've quit hoping so that I can suffer no more disappointment. I've quit dreaming of a day when things will be better, because the contrast makes now look so pale.

However, I have absolutely no reason to doubt that this one is for real. I will know tomorrow for sure, and then I will tell you. I will not tell my kids either, until it is a sure thing; I cannot suffer to disappoint them once again. I apologize for leaving you hanging, but I have this great fear of making yet another "things are going to get better now!" announcement and then publicly looking once again like an idiot and failure. Hope in me is not dead, however: I've written this.

First, one of my hard drives went down--only the one with most all my files on it--photos, music, documents, address book, calendar... at least the drive running the operating system is intact, so the computer runs. I think. A friend advised me to remove the offending drive immediately, which I did. When I restarted the computer, the monitor wouldn't come on. It's been on the verge of going out for some time now. Thus I am rather computerless.

Increasingly I encounter the problems this causes. First I realized I wouldn't be posting Project Backpack flyers this weekend after all because they are on my non-displaying computer. Then the kids asked that we listen to music, but it's all in there, too. I've needed some information from my chat logs, but can't access them. Then today I encountered what may be the funniest one of all-- I don't have access to my resume. Isn't that a hoot? Seeing as getting a job is a rather immediate need crucial to my survival-- I don't even know what to say. My life is so like this so often that it isn't even surprising. I cannot recreate that resume, which I spent many a hour honing and redesigning, although how will I apply for jobs without it I do not know.

It's one of those situations I'd tell someone about and they'd say, "Well, what are you going to do about it?! Something has to be done about it," and I just shrug my shoulders. Hell if I know. What can I do? Oh sure, expenses are piling up with each day that goes by and no income is coming in, and I was already poor, broke, and unable to pay my bills before. What am I going to do? Sit here applying for jobs until I get evicted, I guess. It's kind of a sick dread every day knowing the end is looming, awaiting the execution.

Whoa, sorry, getting all melodramatic on ya. So, as I was saying, all of my life, which is not that much of an exaggeration, is locked inside my computer.

[in the car, in the middle of a typical children's discussion about what we were each most afraid of]

Bri commented, after a pause in conversation, "...I think everybody's brave... everybody that's alive is brave. You have to be, to go through life. ...Some people aren't brave, though. Life gets too hard and they give up and kill themselves. But that isn't very brave, is it? You have to be brave to live."

I nearly cried, but I smiled. "Then I'm very brave, aren't I?" I said. And I was glad I was.

I've become the Kansas City, Missouri/Kansas area coordinator for Project Backpack.

If you live anywhere near this area and are willing to donate a backpack; collect backpacks from your group (friends, family, workplace, school, community, church, club); know of a church or business that would serve as a drop off area; know of any business, group, or individual that might help with shipping costs; or know of any specific areas in need of assistance, please let me know.

I've been beating myself up over this, over my reaction. Why couldn't I handle it better?

Upon reflection, though, and talking to countless friends and family members, it turns out many people have felt just as I have. An amazing number, actually. I almost wonder if there's anyone who has *not* been depressed or had a rough time dealing with something. (Don't answer that.)

The scenario played in both movies and life where someone experiences a particular stressful event--wife leaves, dog dies, fired from work--and then goes on a binge of drinking, gets prescribed medication, sleeps too much and has to be coaxed out of bed--not, mind you, that I've done all of the above--is this so uncommon? Does it constitute crazy, as I've been accusing myself? Okay, so I definitely didn't take the job rejection so well. (I'd sunk a fair amount of money and all my hope into that.) I was disappointed, down, fed up, and like a child I sat down in the middle of the floor, crossed my arms, and positively refused to move on. But slowly I began strategizing how I could indeed continue, and here I am today, applying for more jobs when I swore I'd never go through that again. All in the course of a few days I'm up, I'm spending time with friends, still strategizing, regaining hope, and even managing not to panic over my job loss. (Yes, what I needed right now was unemployment! Oh, and my dog ran away, too. Life cracks me up.)

Yes, anyone living in my situation would have valid reason to have moments of less-than-optimism. It could get anyone down; I have a right to my emotions. But what more can anyone ask than I brush myself off and go on? How could I wish I'd done better? To have felt nothing would to have been dead, and to have my hope and faith unwavering would've been as plastic and unreal as the smile on Barbie's face.

I don't mean to be "woe is me" or more negative than I have to be, but truth be told, I don't even know another person online or off living at the poverty level that I am. What do any of you know about supporting yourself and raising three children on an annual income of less than $10,000? --and not just for some temporary time, like that one "bad period" or maybe even four years through school--but for a decade? For all of your adult life? Surely you can grasp how much easier is to say "Hang on, it'll get better," and how much more difficult it is to wait ten years for the "better".

Oh sure, right, it's coming a-n-y day now. Uh huh. After 50 job rejections, is it? 100?

And how does being happy, having hope, and hanging on pay my rent and utilities this month?