Reaching Out of Your Mind.

 Tis the season 

when sadness looms, when despair overwhelms, when the light is literally gone or going, when life becomes filled with dark, cold, empty spaces.

When many of us retreat so far into ourselves that the corridor has closed behind us and we are stuck in a place with no door, no window, and no way out.

All we can see is the can'ts, wont's, don'ts. 

We do not want anyone to know how far, how remote we've become. We pretend we're fine. We smile and make jokes when with others so they won't know how bad things are with us. 

It's a time of year for joy and love. For literal warmth. For family huddling together in their caves until the world grows back into light and warmth of its own. 

As happens when this season rolls around, there are many suicides and suicide attempts. Sometimes the mind collapses in on itself like a pile of so much rubble.

That Which Survives is buried, with pressure pressing all around. Pressing, pushing. compressing, making us smaller and more ineffective.

Recent suicides in my area have sprouted a lot of conversation on social media. 

The messages are, or should be, hopeful, cheering, encouraging, optimistic. 

For the most part, that is what they are --

to the ones not reduced to rubble in the dark places of their own souls. 

Depression is a disease with many forms, many and varied symptoms, and a whole lot of unknowns. We, as a society, are finally acknowledging the disease aspect of this, and we even think we know how to help. 

All the patient needs to do, is reach out, ask for help. Anyone can do that, right?

Well, no. 

No one expects someone with a high fever and delirium to be walking around and talking sense. 

No one expects the starving man or the thirsty child, so ill that any movement exhausts the energy in their muscles to the point of pain and unconsciousness, to get up off the floor and walk to the nearest kitchen and fix themselves. Shouting at a pneumonia patient to just breathe (or cough) is NOT going to make the air go in any easier or more effectively. 

Yet this is exactly what you are asking of the lost souls buried in the dust, pebbles, rocks, bricks that are the rubble smothering and shredding them into components.

You ARE wonderful, opening yourself to the ill and offering to be their go-to when they need help. All they have to do is ask, or tell you of their need. 

Their disease prevents them from doing so. It is a symptom. 

They cannot ask.

They cannot reach.

It is not a matter of will.

It is not something they can do. 

It is a symptom of their disease. 

If you want to help, to prevent, to heal, YOU must be the one to watch for the symptoms, to reach out, to do the asking.

And it can be a helpless repetitive job. 

You may not get answers. 

You may get lies instead of truths. 

You may be ignored and you will probably be shut out.

Darkness does not allow the admission of light, because when light enters, darkness is no more.

Look around you, at the people you live with, work with, deal with. 

Are they being more quiet OR more noisy than is normal for them?

Are they preoccupied or often not occupied at all?

Are they just not themselves? 

Ask them.

If they don't answer, or return generic answers -- "Just got a lot on my mind" or "it's been a tough time" or even "I'm tired; that's all. -- ask again. 

Tell them you are here for them. 

Then be there. Helping hand extended.

They cannot ask. The disease prevents that.

They may not be able to respond, and you are going to have to wield the shovel and shift the rubble. You are going to have to use an ice pick to bore a hole through a solid wall to let in the ray of light. 

You will have to administer the treatment.

And they may fight you. Resist by non-response. That first beam of light can be painful to eyes that have too long endured the black blankness. Effective antibiotics can make an infection seem worse by declaring war on the invaders, who increase their numbers until the drug cuts off their reinforcements.

Do NOT say, they could've -- no, they couldn't. Their illness does not permit this.

Pay attention to behaviors, words, attitudes. 

If YOU care, you must, must, must be the one to reach out. 

In the Dark -- and a Little Light.

I believe in Karma. I really do. The things you do reflect.

That said, I don't understand how it works at all. At least not in my life.
In my life, I think Karma may be allergic to electricity.

Back in December/January, someone from work found herself homeless. I thought about it for a while. She wasn't a close friend, and I didn't know her that well, but I have an extra (well, rarely used) room, and I've been homeless. So I offered the room to her if she needed it.
It was the right thing to do.
(She accepted.)

And, in January, during one of the few really cold spells this winter, I ended up with my electric shut off.
My payments hadn't been processed by the company. They had been made. I suspect, now, that the December payment somehow got lost in the mail. It didn't show up at Duke Energy until I began making inquiries about it.  The January payment simply crossed in the mail with the notices.

Okay, that gets straightened out I get electricity back for my birthday, HOORAY!

All is well.

Until April.
I get a whopping 1117.05 electric bill. I must pay -- MUST pay --760.61 of this bill.
Now my monthly income, after taxes, is, if I'm lucky, is 1000 a month. and 450 of that is rent.
I have been getting by with no government assistance, because according to most agencies, I make too much money (before taxes) to qualify.

I try HEAP.

There are a couple problems there. One, the emergency help program ended March 31, so there's no help there. Second, to get on PIPP, I have to have a history of no defaults on any PIPP program, ever, with any provider.

I was on PIPP when I abruptly lost my income and had exactly no income (other than a job for two weeks, trading, and selling stuff) for eight months. Yeah, I'm sure I paid all my bills in full and on time then. Yeah, yeah, and yeppers.

Back to this month.
I contacted a couple of churches. One will pay 100 if I come up with the rest. Me, not other agencies or charities. They were very specific about that.

The frustrating thing about this incidence is that I checked my bank balance one day and there was a balance showing that I read as 4000. (It was actually 40,000.)
I immediately went in the bank and told them, this is NOT my balance.
It was the right thing to do.
(I sure could have used that 4000. I could have paid my electric bill in full.)

And so I face another electric shut off. Yeah, Karma. Yay Karma.

I'll just have to deal with it.

All the other aspects of my life are coming together fairly well. Rent, health care, that kind of thing being taken care of in a timely manner.
DirecTV is being troublesome. Taking money from my account, I get it returned, they tell a fairy tale to the bank and the bank takes the money back out. Just wondering how many times I can go through this process, because they have lawyers on staff no doubt to create their lies. I couldn't get a lawyer to write a letter for a >200 fee. It stinks.

But.like the electric, I am just going to have to deal with it as it comes along.

And I will.

It's the right thing to do.

Life and Love and Other Things

I have been trying to write of other things than my own problems. I don't want this blog to be a whining moaning list of things to complain about. I don't want it to be a pity party for me. I don't want it to be about me, specifically.

I want it to be about life in general. Politics, social media, diet, religion, education, children and grandchildren -- all the things that make up the array of things we grapple with from day to day. That's what I want.

For now, I can't seem to think beyond my own life-box. 

I'm stuck and I can't seem to move beyond these limitations.

Someday I will, I'm sure. 

Someday, I'll live again, love again, have opinions again, and I'll re-find my writer's voice.

Someday.

That day isn't yet.

I have many beginnings of ideas, thoughts, concepts to discuss. A recent facebook discussion inspired an article about the education system. But it remains unwritten, as headaches and busy-ness and the visitation of the demon build up walls faster than I can build windows. 

And forget about doors! There's no time for doors. 

The important thing is to keep a little light coming into this thick and sturdy box.

Why keep writing, then?

Well, that is the best way to poke holes in the wall and let a little light in.

Also, there may be someone out there that needs to read something like this.

Someone who needs to know there can be light in darkness.

Someone who needs to know that tears can cleanse as well as burn.

Someone who needs to know how someone else navigates the pitfalls of an empty life.

Someone who needs to know about hope, and choices, and giving up.

Someone who needs to know that, in spite of it all, there remains life, and love, and other things.

Hopeless; Helpless; this cannot be me

I have been making my way through the world for a very long time. Sometimes successfully, sometimes not so much. But every day led me into a tomorrow and any time there were changes, I was there, doing my best to make the changes be the ones I wanted.
Or at least to go in a direction that somehow resembled something I wanted or could hope t turn into what I wanted.

It didn't bother me too much when I didn't find work right away when I first lost my job, three years ago this month. Oh, I still put in applications on a regular basis, even had a couple of interviews. No job.

No job, but I had plenty of work to do at home. Rex was getting sicker, and needed me there. The truth of this was borne out when he ended up in the hospital in February. When he came out, Tammy had moved out, Tracy was gone, and it was just the two of us, and we began the journey of returning him to reasonable health, and we had enough for the two of us.

With his medicines and all the changes, it was not enough for a while, and then I got a handle on it again.
And we were good.

Time and more changes, and Rex would get a little more sick and recover to a point of a little less well.
But he was here for me and I for him.

My computer crashed, was replaced, the newer one crashed. And was replaced. We lost Internet service and re-established a connection.

Tracy came back , left again, returned again. Tammy did well, had troubles, recovered and slipped again, but maintained her home. Tammy had another baby.

And the baby was born, and Tracy was here, and once every couple of weeks I would fill out job applications, and no one was interested in hiring me. That was okay, because we were getting by and spending time together.
It was all we could do and we did it.

And then he died, and the whole world stopped.
The income stopped, but the bills did not.
The presence stopped, but life didn't.

I have filled out job applications  at least twice a week. Most places do not take paper in person applications anymore, which works out well when you can't afford to buy gas to go from place to place.

I've never had so much trouble trying to get a job.

And I don't know what else to do.
I just don't.
What else is there? If you have any ideas, please let me know.

I am not helpless. I CAN work; I WILL work.
But someone needs to hire me.

I'm not helpless, but hope is dwindling fast.
Nothing in my life is as it should be.
Nothing.

And I don't know what to do.
Or how to do more.

This cannot be me.
I do not give in to circumstance.
I learn to work with it.

I CAN learn to work with it; I WILL learn to work with it.

Hopeless; helpless; This cannot be me. This will not be me.

They keep coming, and we can't stop it

The damn tornadoes, that's what I'm talking about. Out in Oklahoma, throughout the whole region, they just keep coming.
And there's not a damned thing anyone can do to stop them, or avoid them, or do anything but stand by helplessly while Mother Nature runs her vacuum.
Afterwards, yes, we CAN, and should, and DO rush in to help. It's what we'd hope for, were we the victims.
And we could indeed be the victims, anywhere, any time, any one of us.

Tornadoes are less a regional phenomenon than some disasters. Hurricanes hit shorelines, floods occur near rivers, mudslides are usually in hill country (slide implying gravity), forest fires happen in forests.
Tornadoes, like earthquakes, can happen anywhere.
Therefore, they can happen to you.

Now, they do have preferred playgrounds, like the Great Plains for tornadoes and the San Andreas in California, but they can happen anywhere.

The one advantage in the Plains is that usually one can see (if one is looking) from miles away and hopefully take shelter before the twister gets to you.

Last night, because of heavy rains, many, many people could not see because of the heavy rains and the preternatural darkness of the storm. Many, many people are today still shaking, still fearful, and still looking for loved ones. I hope that everyone locates one another, and that losses stay low. I wish that no one would die in these horrific storms, but that has already happened, and there's nothing I can do to change it.

I wish I could.

I haven't had a close encounter with a twister, although members of my family have. Heck, I have a brother in Kansas. My sister played tag with one last spring.(She won.)A long time ago, one collapsed my grandfather's barn. Then there was the Thanksgiving tornado, mid 90s. I went outside because it was so hot and humid, and heard the trains about a mile away, cane inside and said, "It's still and sticky, and I heard a train. Think we should hide?"
A tornado took down a garage and damaged some trees approximately a mile away.

I still shake at the memory.
The Menace that roars out of the night.
Out of the nowhere.

I can't help you, Oklahoma. Not in the preventive, sheltering, protecting ways you are so in need of.
I wish I could.
I will do what I can to help afterwards, but it will never be enough. It can never be enough.
And there's always going to be guilt that I can be so grateful it wasn't me or mine, and I feel bad about that, too.

Because I know it could have been.
May someday be.
It's good to know you will understand, if that time ever comes.

But for now, I think we would all like to put this into the past.

We are trying to help do just that.

If only there were fewer if onlys

Sometimes it seems, even to me, that I accomplish less than I am capable of because I spend too much time on seeing what can't be done. If only I had more time, if only I had more money, if only the rest-of-the-world would cooperate with me and my needs. If only this, if only that.

I don't let my children get away with that, not for very long. I tell them, "You have to think of a way around that." I tell them, "There has to be a way." I say, "I know you can figure it out. But you have to be the one to do it."

We are all wrapped up in our own if-onlys. An obstacle for one person is a piece of cake for another. But just because they can do X doesn't mean they can do Y. Personality, social skills, necessity all have a part in each small success.

I like to think that when I am if-onlying, that it means I am actively engaged in thinking my way in, out of, around, and through a problem, whatever its nature. Usualy that is what's going on in my head. I bring it up in conversation, in writing, bevause it is occupying my mind ad I wrestle with the components of the If-only.

I can see, though, where it may not look like that to outsiders.
I can see where it may look like "There she goes, whining again." I can see that it can appear to be the worst kind of self-pity.

When someone brings up the same subject, over and over again, don't assume they are asking for your help in any pjysical sense. Unless that's what they are asking for, of course.If you don't want to get any more involved, don't be afraid to ay that you don't want to go into that; you have nothing new to contribute. Those of us who wrestle with demons or ideas often don't realize how single-minded we can be. We also may not remember if we discussed this with you before, or at what stage. No honest thought-wrangler is going to hold it against you that your thought-world isn't theirs.

If only can be an exvuse. If only definitely can describe limitations.
But keep listening, because "if only" can also mean "what do you think?" and there isn
 no greater compliment than having someone actually listening to what you think.

If only there were more people like that.

Moving up -- or is it down?

 We are looking for an other home, my husband and I. Age and health are making it difficult to keep up things where we are now, and those same factors have us a little homesick for the 'good old days' that get gooder as we get older.

We would like to go back to Mt. Orab. That's where we lived the longest, and our daughter and her child(ren) are there. We've lost time with the little one, and with the new boy due to arrive any day now -- or April 1) we don't want to lose any more time.
Plus not really knowing how much time Rex has.

After Mt. Orab, we would like to go to Georgetown, Williamsburg, or Bethel. Georgetown because it is close to Mt. Orab, and also closer to Bethel, where we both have family, and Ripley where I do. Williamsburg for the same reasons. Bethel because it's home for us both' before there was an us.
Of course, any surrounding neighborhood will do as well.

What we can pay in rent will depend on what utilities and such we will have to pay for additionally.Neither he nor I can do yardwork, and we are hoping our stay at home daughter will move on and away. We want to be long term tenants.
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We have looked into government housing, for the simple reason that I won't be evicted when he dies. But, government apartments, that Great Refuge ofWelfare Whores,serial petty criminals, Baby-Makers (for income) find themselves "Unable" to help hard working people who have always paid their rent.

But -- our credit report is bad. None of the bad is rent, utilities, or other (with one exception) housing costs.

Therefore, we must continue to pay our rent and utilities in a place we can no longer afford. We must strive to maintain a yard with equipment we can no longer maintain or replace. Or use, as far as that goes.

This is how the State of Ohio supports their now unemployed and unemployable working class of the last several decades.

Yard Sellin'

As you may guess, I'm having a yard sale. It's a time when I have to do something, and this is what I can think of. I never do well holding these sales, but I do well enough.

According to guidelines and how-to articles, I do everything wrong.

I don't buy advertisement in every local publication. Why not? Because the reason I'm holding the sale is because I need money. Not a lot, just enough to get by.

I also don't wash, dry, sand, dust, paint and in general pretty up stuff. The reason for that isn't because I'm lazy. It really isn't. The reason depends on what types of item it is that I'm selling.

I have a box of miscellaneous saucers, bowls, and plates. I just put that type of discard into that box, and when I do a yard sale, I haul the box out to the yard. Besides, even if they were sparkling clean and shiny, anyone buying them is going to wash them anyway before using. (I have to admit, that does sound lazy. So I guess that is a factor.) I don't see the use in unpacking, washing, drying, waiting, repacking (god forbid a speck of water get in the box.) I'm probably not going to sell any mismatched dishes or serving sets of one. Those seldom sell. So I'd end up  hauling them in and out and back again, over  and over, until I can donate them somewhere.

I have some power tools. I could sand off the metal, I can wash off the gas tanks, I can put in a new spark plug. But I can't start the darned things -- part of the reason I'm selling them. I can't tell anyone how they run. Since I can't start them, I don't know if they run, let alone how well.
Also, I've been burned buying prettied-up gear at yard sales. The seller will tell me, "I just replaced the spark plug." He won't say, "but that wasn't causing the problem." But, because it looks good -- and possibly because of the amount of time and work that went into the prettying-up -- he asks for good money for the item.
My stuff may look old and used -- that's because it is. Unapologetically and unabashedly. But no one has to pay me for sanding and scrubbing.

I have some secondhand bicycles. They were secondhand when I got them. I don't know their pedigree or any event history. I do know that no one in my home is riding bicycles. It's been so long since anyone has ridden that the tires have all gone flat. You fix that with air.

My prices are lower for these reasons.I don't ask pretty prices (although I myself would call them nice-looking.) I ask what would I pay for this at a yard sale. Since I'm a frugal buyer, I add a little more. I know normal people will probably pay more than I would.  I'm always open to offers, too, and expect that. Older-looking stuff brings out the haggler in people.

Heck, I'll even barter if you have the right stuff. That's what I'm going to do with any money made -- trade it in for different goods. Your goods even have an added benefit  -- you came to me. No gas/driving expense or time.

So bring me a sack of taters or a box of eggs -- I'll give you a box of saucers and a rusty Weed-Eater if that's what you want.

We'll both be satisfied that we got the "best deal EVER!."

Hi now, Kai-lan, and Exploring with Dora

It's been a long time since I paid much attention to children's programming. Now that my granddaughter is watching it with attention, I'm paying more attention, too. (Because she's never watched anything in my care that I haven't also watched.)

Nick Jr is her channel. Not too much wrong with that, as this child also has a healthy interest in going outside and reading, writing, and 'darwing'. A lot of kids don't, but that's another story.

 Most of the shows are okay. A (very) few are brilliant. Some of it I don't get, but since I'm not its target audience, I'm not too worried about that. Should probably be more worried if I 'got' all of it.

Nick Jr tells parents (or whomever) what the show teaches. Interesting, but not as interesting as what the children -- or at least this child -- learns from it.

Dora the Explorer is supposed to teach all kinds of stuff: counting and Spanish and logic and colors and following instructions. Never mind the Spanish. What Dora teaches, apparently, is that there are different words for the same things. At 18 months, my little one watched Dora, and when Dora had to go across the river and through the forest, Hailey told her she had to boat the water and go in the trees. All English, but completely different words.

This week, Hailey applied the lessons from Ni Hao, Kai-lan, a show that also teaches bits of Chinese. When Mammaw got mad, she observed that Mammaw was mad, thought about what Mammaw was mad about, and decided Mammaw needed to CALM DOWN.

It was a little much, though, when she instructed me to sway back and forth, back and forth in order to do so.

The question I have is how will this work once she goes to school (months away if she can do preschool; only a year away for kindergarten) That swaying back and forth thing sounds like an invitation to mockery to me. Maybe not, if the children are all of an age and all watch the same programming -- or if they are programmed by teachers to do this. (Can't you just see a roomful of four-year-olds swaying back and forth, back and forth every time one of them has a tantrum. When would any teaching get done?)

But it troubles me, and I don't know how to address the problems. On the one hand, observation and application are good things. It's really great that a preschooler can understand you can be mad without it being their fault, or that a river is made of water and a forest is trees. On the other hand, the coping strategies should be private and somewhat internal, or they are invitations to misunderstanding and mockery.

The underlying message is the same as it has always been. The shows are a tool. The real learning comes from the family and from daily living. Know what your children are watching and let them talk to you about it. They are learning and they want you to tell them what's right for your family. And even that it's okay if it's different for others.
'
It's all good, as long as we're ALL involved.

Ohio Benefits Bank: Not for the Needy

I've been looking into a program called the Ohio Benefits Bank. It's supposed to help the sort of people who fall through the cracks of other help systems. In that sense, no, it's not for the needy. It isn't meant to be. The truly needy have other helps available.

Ohio Benefits Bank reads like a really great program. It seems to be a sort of bridge group, meant to help people who don't qualify for some help, who are overqualified for other programs, and who just need a boost in certain areas, like prescriptions.

The idea is good, the idea of the agency is good, but I have to tell you -- their execution is lacking.

I'm not sure how this works in other areas. I'm not even sure how it works in my area, because, quite frankly, I have been given the runaround. This runaround is preventing me from even applying to them.

First, I could apply by mail.They would send an application. The application stated that I'd need to do an in-person interview.

Next is a phone call, and that led me to discover that they would come once a month to the county capitol, and to apply in person I would have to go there. At the time, I had no car. So, I would have to arrange for someone to take me on a certain day within certain hours. Okay, that could be done.

The person I talked to had a suggestion that seemed even more helpful. Do it online.

Wonderful idea.

So I did.

Pages and pages and pages, I filled it all out. In the end, they needed me to send copies of a couple things, ID papers and income, and that was fine. Doesn't take a lot to send three or five pages in an envelope.

Except that they didn't offer me that option. I had to fax the documents. Right then.
I also had to print off and sign the application and fax it back to them. With the proof documents. Right then.

Huh?

I don't have a fax at home.
Public faxes cost from 1-3 dollars a page. Sending or receiving.

So, okay. I can't really afford it, but I can do all that at the library.

Except for one thing.

When I reached the end of the application, after having noted documents I'd need and everything, the computer program I was using informed me that since I refused to comply with the fax, they were terminating my application and they would not be able to assist me.

I'm no worse off than I was before. (And I have been at times.) In my case, this is just a glitch. I can, if I choose, reapply from a library or something, although the cost may be a burden.But I can't help but think of others, who don't have my options. Someone caring for an ill person and can't get away. Someone having no car or someone to drive. Someone themselves having come down ill and not able to get out for many reasons. Someone who has temporarily lost all income, and can't pay for public faxes without sacrificing something else -- a meal or two, or electricity.

Ohio Benefits Bank -- how about helping the people you are meant for instead of working the fringes?  Why make it so difficult to access?

You've got a GREAT idea, why not make it a GREAT program?