Summer Nights Are Sort of Alright

Eight months into it, another year almost past.  
Time is a cruel mistress, not sure who said that...maybe it was Yeats.  Christmas is getting closer...

I like to keep Christmas in my heart.  Recently, I watched The Muppet's Christmas Carol .

I'm listening to the trees rustle, the cool air is wafting through this house, Agnes is sitting at my feet.  I feel "grim around the mouth" and so you know Ishmael went to the sea...I listen to Christmas music and watch Christmas movies.

Many of you know, I've been dealing with a great amount of discouragement in my life.  The irony of that statement is that I am even making it.

Here goes an interesting jaunt down a strange rabbit hole:  

Kate always told me this story of when she met Corrie Ten Boom, how large her hands were, and how Corrie gave her and the guy my Mom was with at the time a blessing on their marriage(even though they weren't engaged, but Kate didn't have the heart to tell her.)

Who is Corrie Ten Boom people will say.  She was a Dutch woman who hid Jews during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands.  Corrie and her family were sent to various concentration camps, her sister Betsy died in one.  She wrote a book about her experience called, The Hiding Place.   
Kate had a copy of this book which I read at a very young age.  We owned the movie version of The Hiding Place also.  This past week I was thinking about Corrie Ten Boom, because I remember the part in her story where she is in the pit of death and human cruelty, and she envisions killing one of the guards.  In her book she describes how even in the worst of situations she was learning how to become a better person.  How her own heart was full of pride.  

“Oh, this was the great ploy of Satan in that kingdom of his: to display such blatant evil one could almost believe one's own secret sin didn't matter.” 

― Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place

So, tonight especially I put together a dresser. I'm ranting and raving. Trying to get this house to a point that it WILL sell.  I'm angry at everyone and everything.

  Realtors, my siblings, my mother, my father, mortgage companies, the state, the country, the world, the universe.


I'm so good at trying to be positive, hoping that everything will work out that when I keep trying and do not see any fruit to my labors, well, I get really discouraged by life. 

First thought, Don't Judge.

And I wondered what is keeping me from reaching out and asking for help?  Well, I know the answer.  I'm afraid of being judged.

Judged for whatever it is that I have or haven't done in my life, in this house, for my dying mother.  Judged for any action and choice that I've made. Trust me over the past few months many people have given me their judgement.  In various aspects of my existence.  My house is not clean, I'm never going to get a good job, I'm too emotional, I need to let go, I need to care more, I need to pray more, I need to move on with things....trust me the list is endless.  And you know those of you who've thrown those things at me.  I'm pretty sure that I've taken it.  I know you meant well, even if you don't really understand me as a person.

 Now here is the kicker.  

I am the merciless judge of myself.  Whatever this inner realm of self that says, "You aren't doing this right." etc is, I've got it in spades.  Tonight, I was just ready to give up and I felt Kate.  I say that because I know what she would've said.  She would've said, "You're almost there, you can't give up."  

So, here I am writing out into the ether of the internet to nobody in particular because I am alone with my own thoughts most of the time.  What I want to tell others is, DON'T JUDGE.

From a spiritual point of view, I've seen Christians judge other Christians and non-Christians, but I've seen others judge Christians too.  I've seen Christians judge Catholics, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists...on and on.

Well, God is teaching me that judging anyone is wrong, even through my own dire situation that I'm in at the moment.  I am not entitled to anything, I'm not even truly guaranteed anything in this life.  I mean life, liberty, pursuit of happiness??? Those are ideals that most people have no chance of actualizing.  

We can't know another's heart or actions.  I don't know why most of us are here, if we all have some higher divine purpose or if we are all just ants working at small hills that get destroyed.  I wish that I knew.  I really do wish.  

Second thought, We waste A LOT.

I keep hearing about weddings.  How much they cost.  How in New Jersey a couple could easily spend $25K on one day of festivities.  I mean if their friends are plunking it down why not?  And in my heart, I think what a waste of money!  50% of couples divorce anyway, why not feed starving children with that?! But, in my thinking I don't want to judge people, (here is that constant right?) I guess for some it's what they need to do to feel important.  I just keep thinking how that could help others.

Also waste, I live in a large house.  Why do so few people live in such large spaces???  I mean is this necessary?  I hear a lot of jabber about becoming wealthy as though having lots of money in the end is the measure of a successful and happy life.  

Well, I think money is not the measure of a successful and happy life.  I guess it's the same thing as the insecure men that think they need to be with super model type women, when really they are just average themselves.  

So I am challenging myself, how to stop wasting so much!  Wasting my time, my life, my emotions, my money...this is not easy.

Third thought, Can I encourage others, even when I am discouraged?

I agree that this is a strange thought.  But in my persistent pursuit of joy I keep thinking that there must be something I can do to help others.  I feel so helpless myself.  But maybe that's my strength. I feel closer to other people who are down on their luck.  I mean when you've hit rock bottom, you can only go up right??

This always CHEERS me up...how 'bout a little Christmas in July?  Waltz of the Snowflakes...

Hearts

Hearts are

Symbols.  Blood pumping organs.

4 chambers, blood, veins, arteries, muscle...

 They can be:
 broken, hardened, softened, won, beating, bleeding, giving, warm, cold, shallow, guarded, stolen.

I'm sure a heart can be even more.

We live in a world where to have a hard heart doesn't just mean you have artherosclerosis.

I've heard many times that having a hardened heart is a really bad thing.  I grew up hearing about how Pharoah hardened his heart against God etc.

But, what if having a hard heart isn't a bad thing?  What if it's a blessing, rather than a curse?

What if certain life experience makes it impossible for a person to be open or have a soft heart towards others anymore?

I would love to say that I don't fall into this category, but it would be a lie.  The problem is, I'm really good at faking caring about other people.

Yup, I am admitting something deep.  Hey, we all do it at times I'm sure.  People bring me problems all the time and I can say all the right things and such to try to make them feel better.  Or I appear to be listening to their issues, but the truth is over the past couple of years, I just don't care like I once did.  Don't get me wrong, there is a part of me that does care, but the stress and trauma of life has gradually made it harder for me to give a shit about anything.

Now, I'm super aware that this is a problem.  No, I'm not rebellious, angry, spiritually discontent, or a mean person.

The truth is, I'm just emotionally exhausted.  I'm too tired to care.

Some call this burnout.  I'm sure many of those close to me are aware of the way I've become, but I'm not good at being open.  But what if this is the key to survival?

So here's my question....(and these answers are going to be varied) how can a person protect their heart without going to the extreme of hardness?  IS such a thing even possible??

Can't Buy Me...Love? Happiness? Long Life?

We aren’t really supposed to talk about money.  It’s not proper or fitting or socially acceptable in some circles.  Folks like to whisper about who’s got it or who doesn’t.  At least that was what I experienced in my “church circle” of friends.  Those who were on the fringes of poverty and required assistance from the church community were viewed as being a bit of an underclass.  Heck, I experienced it firsthand at times when my Mom required financial assistance.  But, I believe that giving to others in need is paramount of this thing we label as “Christianity”. 

The news was reporting the past couple days about a woman who left her baby on a subway.  She was homeless and said that she couldn’t take care of her baby anymore.  I don’t know the whole story, but it got me thinking.  She could be me, she could be any of us. I could be homeless.

From the outside looking in, I appear to have plenty.  In fact someone once told me I was privileged.  Why was I privileged?  Because last year when my Mother died I inherited a house worth over half a million dollars.  

This doesn’t mean that I have that money in hand.  In fact, I have less than when I inherited it last year. The small amount of money she left barely paid for her funeral expenses, some utility bills and I still have outstanding health bills coming in the mail.

After taking care of a terminally ill parent for almost a year(try finding gainful employment while someone is at home dying) I accepted the first job I was offered. 

And most of my paychecks went into maintaining my  inheritance. 

I inherited mortgage payments, a high tax load, expensive oil heating, a dog and various other maintenance costs on a house.  Between these costs, the cost of gas to commute,  I barely had enough to pay any other bills. 

I was also in a deep state of grief, but I was pretending that I was OKAY.

So, I kept going, doing…striving.  I was not going to allow myself to fall into any type of depression or sadness.  I knew that I must be positive.  I focused on other people’s problems or things to distract me from feeling the real sadness.

Then my father got arrested. 

In under eight months time, both of my parents were gone.  And I do not have family who live near me.  I am by myself. 

I nearly lost my mind.  Bad thoughts crept in, thoughts such as, maybe I should just die.  Not that I would kill myself, but maybe just maybe a truck might hit me on the highway.  I only told a couple people about these thoughts.

Each day was a struggle to pull myself out of my bed and drive to a job full of banality and lack of purpose.  I would sit at a desk staring at two screens, barely able to remember my own name at times.  I would start crying and have to spend twenty minutes in a bathroom stall trying to compose myself.  It was as if I had been through an intense battle, come out on the other side feeling relieved, yet sad to have witnessed such horrific suffering.  I guess it was a type of PTSD. 

Counseling may have been an option, checking myself into a facility was another possibility. The only thing that kept me going and gave me purpose was writing.  However, the grief I felt just kept slamming me.  

I hated not being able to function.  Each day dragging myself to an office, stressful commute, I was losing my mind.

 So I quit my job.  I simply couldn’t do it anymore.  And I don’t feel guilty.  I needed time to grieve, to realize that my Mom is gone and there is nothing I can do to change that fact.  All that I can do is my best.  Of course, money is a problem.  However, I always have a way of getting money, making money when I need it.  It's kind of my special power.

Right now,  I have 3.58$ in my bank account.  I’m working a part-time job that has yet to pay me.  I’m still going.  I haven’t “bought” food in three weeks, I’m eating what I’ve got in my cupboards.  I’m not worried about the carbs, the GMO’s, the wheat, the sugar…I’m just worried that I have food to put into my body.  I won’t starve.

I calculate how much gas it will take me to get to work.  That’s what I’ve done this summer.  I haven’t gone to the beach or on a nice vacation or a hike. I am surviving, in a half a million dollar house.

My story is NOT unique.  I have a college degree that took my thirteen years to accomplish.  I am $30K in debt. How many of my peers still live in their parent’s homes because the cost of rent is astronomically?  I bet I could name four people…and they’re married.  My generation was brought up in this bubble of middle classdom, a privilege that not many will have ever again.  We were conditioned to go into debt in order to “get an education”, unless you were lucky enough to have your parents pay for part or the whole.

The sad thing is, I’m not afraid to work hard.  I’m not lazy.  I’ve had jobs since I was twelve years old.  I’ve been self-reliant.  This isn’t a complaint, its more of an understanding that life is hard.   

Six years ago without a college degree, I made almost double what I was making this past year.  Then in 2008 the work just dried up, I got laid off. 

Now, why am I writing about any of this?  I will tell you.  Because I’m tired of pretending.  I want to scream out, LOOK I’m poor and it is OKAY. 

But, what I’m saying is look around.  There are some major problems with our governmental system.  Apparently, jobs are on the rise, but what jobs.  Full-time, with decent living wage, health benefits??? No.  

And I’ve been thinking about all of this for a long while…and it hit me.  Over 600,000 people in our country are homeless . We live in one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Tell me, how the fuck do we have people with nowhere to live???  There is this idea that the homeless are lazy people who don’t want to work.  This is not true.  Many people who are homeless have jobs, but cannot afford a place to live.  How is this possible?  In 2014, in the United States of America, we  fund all kinds of strange things, but we cannot fund a place for those Americans down on their luck.  Ask someone homeless where do they want to be in five years...probably will say ALIVE.

I’ve always hated when people ask you where you’d like to be in five years.  It makes me think of something John Lennon said when he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up and he said something like, “Can’t I just be happy?”  Which is funny because apparently those who make between $50-75K a year are the happiest so says Forbes.  

While I don’t believe in entitlement of the poor or the wealthy, I do believe that everyone should have a place to sleep, food in their bellies and happiness.  But the religious side in me says, we live in a fallen world.  There is real evil out there, but how many of us support that evil by doing nothing to stop it?  We do nothing to stop it. 

I have only 3.58$ in my bank account.  My statement denotes two things, one that I actually have a bank account, that I have a social security number, that I did have a way to put money in there…so many people on the fringes of society do not even have bank accounts.  They are not eligible for them.   In some ways not having a bank account, or credit cards, or student loans would be an amazing, freeing feeling for me. 

Kate grew up very poor.  She would tell me stories of living in housing projects, roaches, sharing bedrooms with many siblings.  A man she was in love even decided not to marry her because his parents didn’t approve of her background.  (this was a “Christian” man of course.)  She was always afraid of lack, even though she was a hardworker, with a college degree, my Mom never really thought much of herself.  I think it was because she spent so many years ashamed of where she came from.

People are so often ashamed to be poor, but I believe that those who are wealthy and do nothing to help others are the ones who should be ashamed.  And for the record, I put myself in the “wealthy” category.  I wish that I could give more.

But, I guess in some ways I am privileged.  I am privileged enough to care about other people.  While I've been told that I am too nice, I've come to realize that maybe what I've been made to think of as a flaw is actually my secret strength.  Each day is precious, every life is precious, poor or rich, white, black, brown or yellow, we all deserve to treat each other with respect.