The Demoralization of Government Assistance

If you want anything to be completely fucked up, let the government handle it. I learned this the hard way early Tuesday morning.

My family and I moved to another county in Florida back in June. I had our electricity transferred to our new address as soon as I knew our move in date of 6/4/09. We were on a budget billing plan before moving, which is an average of the past 12 months of usage compiled into a set amount to be paid each month. What I didn’t know is that when you move, even just transferring service, the difference in the amount owed becomes due immediately….just as if I had moved and required a final bill. Our electric bill is $1100.00. It has been transferred over to our new address and due on 8/18/09. I called to set up a payment arrangement, but was told we didn’t live here long enough.

No kidding….we just moved in geniuses…..but we did have service for the past 11 months. They decided we were eligible for a partial payment arrangement in the amount of $650.00. That’s great, but how does that help for the balance of $450.00 + our actual new bill of $334.00 + the payment arrangement added on each month for $650.00, which is $108.33? Our new total due on 8/18/09 is $818.83. Ummm….we still don’t have that amount lying around either.

I don’t know anyone who has an extra $1100.00 or $818.83  just lying around, so I started looking into agencies for help. I don’t want someone to pay my bills, but if the electric company in question, Progress Energy Florida,  will not let me pay in installments, I have no choice…I need the electricity on. Duh?

I finally found one that had funds available. Seminole County Emergency Financial Assistance Agency. They help with rent, utilities, medical, dental, funeral and cremation expenses. I had to print out a six page application. I filled it out, copied all necessary IDs, Social Security cards, bank statements, my lease agreement, and most importantly, my huge electric bill. Oh, and I had to write a personal hardship letter explaining why I was in this situation. I had everything in order. When I called on Monday, they were very specific. I had to be there by 7:30 AM, but recommended I come earlier, as people were lining up as soon as possible. They only let 37 people in and stopped letting people in at 8:30 AM. No more applications would be taken after that. So, I decided to go at 5:30 AM.

I had to take my 2 boys, ages 8 and 1 year. My husband had to work. I get there at 5:40 AM and there is a line already with people on air mattresses with blankets. I talked to a few people, all very nice, all had jobs, and almost all had been there multiple times. One man in particular explained that this was his 5th time coming here. Not for help each time, but atatempting for the same assistance each time. He proceeded to tell me that if one thing on the application was incorrect, left blank or didn’t have N/A, if appropriate….they sent you home. If you don’t have to pay for water and you don’t write a zero in the space, they don’t let you fill in a simple zero in the blank….off you go. It sounded ludicrous.

After a few hours, one of the biggest women I have ever seen came outside. She was easily 6 foot 5 inches tall and weighed probably 300 pounds. She could have been a bouncer at any club. Her voice was like a bomb going off. She was yelling at everyone in line.

“If you don’t have all of your paperwork filled out correctly, you will be sent home.” ;  ”Make sure that this line in straight.”;  ”I am only letting in 37 people and the kids count, so if there is anyone with you that doesn’t need to be, have them stay in your car or go home.”

She started counting….she let they babies go uncounted, but my 8 year old was counted. This seemed nuts to me, as my son was not asking for assistance and he was taking the place of someone who really needed the help, but I had no choice. I was lucky I came early, as I was number 25 and Jake was 26. We went in, single file, no one speaking for fear of getting thrown out. We were handed a number just like at the Wal-Mart Deli and told that we were being locked in, could not leave, could not use any cell phones, no food or drink allowed and if we missed our number being called the first time…too bad. It was like being run by the Russian Mafia. Not one person was rude or inconsiderate. I am sure that woman has had to deal with her share of assholes, but there was no reason to be as rude and outright mean to any of us in there. Not one person was rude to her or out of line in any way.

I was there for 6 1/2 hours. I went over my application and paperwork over and over again, just to make sure there was no reason to send me home. My kids were exceptionally well behaved. I felt so badly for them, as I had to wake them up so early for this. I always carry a cooler bag with drinks and lots of snacks when we go anywhere. I was damned if my kids would be denied foor and drink because of some unsufferable rule. I watched how each person was called and could not help but notice what they had to do. There were seats for us to sit and wait to be called up to a big plexi-glass window with a hole cut out to speak through and a space below to slide paperwork through. This counter was lower to the ground than most service counters and there were NO chairs to sit at this window. Each person had to literally get down on their knees in order to pass paperwork through. Their files and folders were all over the floor and the symbolism was so blatant.  Everyone was on theirs knees asking for help. It was degrading, demeaning, demoralizing and just plain pathetic.

It’s a good thing I was raised Catholic…I was used to kneeling.

When my number, 77, was finally called, I was legitimately scared. Thankfully, my application was all in order. I had everything they needed. I was honest. I had cash deposits on my bank statement. My husband has not been able to find a legitimate job in over a year. He works for cash doing various home repair and remodel work for homeowners and Realtors. He has business cards and bids jobs through word of mouth. If he could find a legitimate job that deducted taxes, offered benefits…all the usual stuff, don’t you think we would have took it by now? But their guidelines were this:

Anyone who worked for cash or “under the table” was not eligible for any assistance. I waited 6 1/2 hours with my 2 children to be told no in 10 seconds. I could have lied. I could have said he was out of work….no job…unemployed. But no, I was honest and I was told no.

A few minutes before this happened, a woman came out from the back. She was hysterical. Tears streaming from her face. I could not understand what she was saying, as she spoke Spanish. I felt badly for her and gave her a bottle of water I had in my cooler bag. I told her everything would be fine. A worker came out from the back to speak to her. I couldn’t understand most of the conversation, but I saw that the worker gave her other agencies that may be of help. I know all of the agencies by now and there is no other help available. I couldn’t help but think that she may be homeless in a few days…maybe she had kids….it was an awful scene.

This is what makes me so angry:

This is a county, governmental run agency. Every single person in that room who had a job was paying for these workers to belittle and degrade them. We pay their salaries and this is the treatment that is afforded to the people who are working 12 hour days, 7 days a week. We were here for help, not to be treated like animals.

So, for all of those people that got down on their knees and essentially begged for help….myself included…do not feel ashamed. There is just not enough help out there for the working class. All of the bank executives and CEO’s are being bailed out and going on huge retreats in exchange for bankrupting their companies…while the working middle class is being belittled by government agencies for help with the electric bill that has skyrocketed because Progress Energy was granted the permission to increase their rates…..yet again. If anyone should feel ashamed it is the workers who treated us all like second class citizens. Those workers have a job and had no sympathy for the ones who just could not make ends meet. I wonder how they would feel if they were in our positions? It is the government that should be ashamed that they allow people to be treated this way all in the name of serving the public. Don’t advertise government help if the end result is going to be discouraging and degrading.

So, I am off to research other assistance agencies. I am trying my best to stay positive and I am definitely not one to cry over the failure of our government or my difficulties paying my gigantic elelectric bill. I will find a way…I always do. There will be accountability. There will be change.

Until then, letters to my Senators, Congressmen, Governor Charlie Crist, Mayor John F. Bush of  Winter Springs (how ironic) and every single News Station for Central Florida have just begun.

The Reality of It All….

It finally happened. I saw them both. We were all in the store. It was just a coincidence, happenstance….or are there no coincidences? I followed them around the store while my father longingly looked back as his unsympathetic wife walked faster and faster. It was as if he were trying to stop, but couldn’t. I could tell by the look on his face. It was ….”I’m sorry”….”I love you”…..”I have no choice.” She was cruel but her crocodile tears were starting. They always came….she was a professional. She could have won an Oscar so many times over the past 30 or so years…it was a true hidden talent….but I knew that’s all it was…a talent, acting…not real tears. Maybe this time she was genuinely scared. Scared of my wrath, as the anger was growing on my face. Scared of my letting the truth out, calling her out on her lies and manipulations. But I saw the slight grin surface a few times around each corner. She knew what she was doing and didn’t care. What made me sad…more than anything was that my father was going along with it all. Dodging me, pretending to ignore every time I yelled to him…asking him….”Please, please stop!…I need to talk to you! I have to talk to you!” I started to cry….the kind of cry that is almost inconsolable. Sobbing, my chest heaving with every breath and step I took.

It was as if I were in slow motion. I was trying to catch up so desperately, but there were people everywhere. The store was so busy and flooded with potential consumers that just seemed determined to block my every move. I finally caught up to them. I didn’t say a word at first. I just stared at my father for a minute that seemed like a lifetime. The type of stare that buckles your knees and says everything without uttering a word. I was puzzled, dumbfounded, hurt, shocked, visibly upset…but only slightly angry. My chest hurt so badly. I was squeezing as if I were in a vice. It seemed impossible to speak, but I finally could.

“Why are you doing this.”, I sobbed to him. “I just don’t understand. Just what am I supposed to say to Jakob”. I started to yell. “He is only eight years old…a little boy…he doesn’t know what he did “wrong”.” I was now spewing at him.

He had no defense. He knew he was wrong. He had hardly spoke to me in the last year and a half and had called Jake about ten times. His wife, who Jake had called Mom-Mom at one time, had not spoken to him in over two years. No phone calls, letters, holiday or birthday gifts that she picked out. He only received what my father picked out and signed her name to the card.

“Jake has done nothing!”, I screamed. “He is so innocent and good-hearted. He is kind and wants to know why “Mom-Mom” doesn’t care about him any more. He wants to know why everyone he has known for the past seven years has disappeared out of his life. He wants to know what he did “wrong.” I finally screamed at both of them.

She was “crying”…. A meek, simple sob that would absolutely be figured out by the majority of strangers and most family members. I knew it so well. My father was always reeled in., but he was different this time. He seemed to know that she was the reason, but he had no choice. He kept stumbling over every word. He couldn’t complete a sentence. He was crying now too. I have seen my father cry a few times, but not like this. He was truly sorry, empathic….with a look on his face that said everything. He was helpless. He was a pussy.

“We can’t trust you. We never could. You have always caused problems for your father and I will not see him hurt any longer. I am done with all of your bullshit for all of these years.”, she spit at me. Her eyes were dark with nothing behind them. I had heard this speech so many times before. It was ridiculous. I could not have possible been that bad for thirty years.

“What does that have to do with my son!” I screamed into her face. I was up close to her, intimidating and angry. I always knew deep down she was scared of me. Scared that eventually my father would finally listen to me. That he would would hear how she treated my sisters and I over the years. I was never afraid of her. I never backed down from a fight with her. I called her out on every evil, manipulative move she made. She had said to me so many times over the years….”I will deny everything I say to you, so don’t bother saying anything to anyone because they will never believe you.” She was right….they never did.

I was pleading with my dad…..”Daddy, please…why are you doing this to Jake?….I don’t want you to hate me, but it doesn’t matter if it means you’ll stop what you are doing to him. Jake is so sad some days. I don’t know what to say. I am sick of lying….telling him that you and her are so busy…that you work so much, even though you are supposed to be retired. I am tired of having my son think your wife is a good person when she absolutely is not!”

“I don’t understand.” I said as more and more tears were streamed down my face. All three of us were unaware of anyone else in the store. The people all seemed to go about their business in slow motion. They were all a blurry haze of everyday life passing me by. My father didn’t seem to care either. Normally he would avoid any public display of this sort. His wife kept looking around…as if anyone really could give a shit. They had lives to lead, bills to pay, grocery lists to fill. She was always putting up a front. No, no…nothing is wrong in my life…I have the perfect life…a huge home, a rich husband…and I was able to turn him against his three daughters…it was so easy.

What kind of man lets that happen? What kind of woman lets a man choose her over his children?….But we are talking about her. She hates kids. She hated us as kids. Now as adults, she saw no reason to find any possible imperfection or nuisance to make my father’s life so miserable that he was willing to ignore his daughters. At that very moment… I didn’t care what he was doing to me. I was protecting my son. I was standing up for my child who loved unconditionally and didn’t understand what he could have done that was so awful that his own grandfather hardly spoke to him…..that his so-called Mom-Mom hadn’t talked to him in over two years and hadn’t step foot into our home in over three years in Pennsylvania before we moved to Florida.

My father just kept sputtering…trying to catch the right words. There was an obvious look of  “I am so sorry for all I have put you through over these years. I wish I could change it all. I wish I had a relationship with you”. It was everything I ever wanted to hear, but it wasn’t why I was so angry….Jake…why would he torture a poor little boy that he used to take almost very weekend to fly in one of his planes. Jake loved it so much. He would tell everyone he could…”My Pap-Pap is a pilot. He has his own planes and lets me fly them all the time. I know how to fly a plane.” He was so proud…so sincere….it broke my heart.

It ended almost as quickly as it started. We were being pulled apart by her. My arm was out stretched….with so much pain on my face. He had the same look of pain. He kept asking me, “Do you need anything? Does Jake need anything? I’ll give you whatever you need! If you need any help. please let me know!”

I yelled… “No. …I don’t need or want that kind of help! I don’t need your money….I need for you to be a grandfather to my son! Don’t do to him what you did to me! He doesn’t deserve it! He did nothing wrong!”. Tears were flowing so much that I could see any longer. She was pulling him father away. I was screaming at him.

“Call Jakob!..Call your grandson! He doesn’t understand! He just a little boy you bastard!” It was my final good-bye as she whisked him far out of my reach. I was sobbing so heavily. I didn’t answer the people…strangers asking me if I were all right. My mind was boggled and nothing was resolved….as always.  I had a glimmer of hope that everything was going to go back like it used to be… but  it was gone as quickly as it came.

The sobs kept coming. I couldn’t control it…I was inconsolable. I hurt so badly for my child…..Jake loved him and her so very much…..I had never felt such pain and controllable grief…it was a loss greater than any death I had ever experienced….because it was a chosen loss…. by my father.

I woke up grasping my chest, tears streaming down my already soaked face. I was crying during the whole dream. I still could not control it. Jake was sleeping next to me. I hugged him so hard, but not enough to wake him. I love him so much…..everyone always tells people that you will never know such a love until you have children….I never believed it until I had Jake. I would die and kill for him. Everything was so fresh and real. I was there. My dad was there. She was there. It really happened….it couldn’t end like this? Why was it all a dream!!! Why was my son going to still question himself and what he did wrong to have this all happen to him.  I was still crying, but starting to become angry.

I got up and went to the bathroom. I washed my face off and brushed my teeth. The clock said 1:46 AM. I cried the whole time.

It’s 2:58 AM now. I am done with the dream, but I am still sobbing uncontrollably. I had to wipe my eyes so many times just to see the screen. My chest doesn’t hurt any longer. I am starting to calm down. Jakob had a sleep over with his cousin, Skylar. She keeps waking up and moving around, but I think she is still sleeping. The computer is right next to where she is sleeping. I am going to check on her.

I just can’t believe it is over. It was so real. It still seems within my grasp….like maybe when I fall back asleep I could pick up where I left off…but that never happens in my dreams no matter how hard I try.

I guess no matter how much I say that I am OK, I am still not over all the hurt from my father. Maybe I will call a therapist in the morning.

The Poisonous Bait and Switch

Everyone has arguments. We all cannot agree on everything all the time. When these disagreements turn ugly there is one thing that I will never understand.

Why…when someone has nothing valid or intelligent left to say…do they always bring up issues that have no bearing on the issue at hand?

If you are arguing with someone about, let’s say, a rude comment someone made to you…and it gets heated…why would someone bring up the time when you were in college and they loaned you $300.00 and you never paid them back the whole amount? What is the point? What does that have to do with the fact that a person you thought cared about you said you were being unreasonable or mean?

Throughout every argument I have ever had with anyone, there is a common denominator….the bait and switch. It’s exactly likes sales. They reel you in with something really interesting and them jack it up to a level that doesn’t even come close to the original reason you were interested.

If you have no argument left…stop…retreat…let it go…but don’t bring up shit that has happened in the past, you heard someone say or just plain has nothing to do with the original argument. Everything spirals out of control and ends up in the shitter. People can be extremely vicious when backed into a corner.

Just like snakes…..and then they show their true selves.

http://images.google.com/images?gbv=2&hl=en&sa=1&q=snake+in+a+basket&aq=3&oq=snake+in+a+

Devil May Care….

I despise all of the social websites being used as a platform for airing out ones feelings when they don’t have the balls to confront the someone in person or by phone.

Since my last blog, my family drama has increased. It seems a certain someone did not like what I had to say and proceeded to post her attitude all over Facebook.  This act also allows one to drift completely off topic into issues that were not even an issue to begin with. So, if my family member wants to use the web as her platform instead of talking like an adult….I see no reason why she shouldn’t get what she wants. Who am I to deny her that right…..

Her reply in reference to my last post concerning a truly stupid issue:

“I dont owe you knowthing! I just qoited what my brother stated to me that early morning!  Oh and you call  the land lady right back afiter i called you  was mature !  Amy was standing right next to me! Its is all good we took care of it !I am over it! Oh and I am truly glade you had time to check on your niece though ! I am greatful my brother did ! He made time for her while no one other than my mother and eddie and teddie and justins family !Oh and from what I hurd for other sorces you brought  a little of it on your self with the house and not all that you say was true ! I dont care if you dont like were you lived !From what I see it seemds like you never wanted to be there in the first place! Let alone in florida ! From the whole time you lived there you not onece came over just to visit us only when you need something or if it was a birthday or hoilday! So yes I see its all about alex! I dont care ! I am me and we help you guys out when need and only greatfulness was my brother!”

Which was promptly followed up with this:

“Alex I truly hope your happy maybe you will stop bitching so much and finally be happy! That what was truly on my mind begreatful for what you have and not what you dont have!!!!!!!!!! Have a god day! I am done with this topic and drama! ;0) Please kiss the kids for me!”

Spelling and grammar not corrected…that’s exactly what I was supposed to decipher…..and that is a lot of exclamation points. Do you think she wanted to emphasize something?

Men would never dream of doing something like this. They hash it out quickly and it’s over. Women, on the other hand, have the wonderful tendency to drag their bones of contention on for days, weeks, months and use emails, letters, social networking sites and the web as tools for their annoyances. I am just as guilty, just not as angry.

My question is this: Why do we, as women, let tiny words on a web page get to us so badly? They are just typed words, right? Or is it that we don’t like everyone else we know on that social networking site to know our dirty laundry? Why does one simple sentence require a litany of words just spitting back at you to make a point? It all seems awfully desperate and angry, yet not enough to have a real conversation.

I, myself, could care less who knows what about me, as long as it’s the whole story and the complete truth. Others just like to throw out whatever they have just to try and hit a nerve. Whatever the reasoning one has for not sucking it up, acting like an adult and picking up the phone instead of hiding behind a computer…I’ll never know.

I haven’t had much inspiration lately for writing, but I have also been moving and under a lot of stress….or maybe I just needed a little aggravation?

I am right here, Angie, when you want to apologize for all of the lies and nasty things you have posted about me. You had the floor and now you need to act like an adult.

But, like you said, “I dont owe you knowthing!”.

Stranger Than Fiction

My family and I just moved. We moved from a private duplex that came with an assortment of all kinds of problems (SEE POST “If Momma Ain’t Happy….Ain’t Nobody Happy”) to an absolutely wonderful apartment complex. The place is HUGE! My oldest son, Jake, loves his new room and the fact that he has his own bathroom. There’s a pool, tennis courts, workout room (not that I will be using it or anything), car care center….everything I could ever want. And it’s cheaper than the old duplex.

If you read my previous blog mentioned above, you know why I couldn’t stand it there any longer. While I was moving, many people came up to me asking about the place, as there was a “For Rent” sign in front of it. I told them the truth. There were pros and cons.

No credit check….great for everyone hit hard by this economy. No background check…great for all you criminals out there….not so great for the law abiding part of society. Low deposit…pro. Cheap place that is large…pro. Landlord lives out of state….pro and con. First $200 of repairs is tenant’s responsibility….con. Late fees were astronomical…con. Landlord was understanding at times of financial hardship…pro.

I could list much, much more, but it’s none of these factors trump the neighbors. The people and their children that live in these duplexes are crazy….and I mean calling the police, guns being shot off, domestic violence, stealing my cable and the alcoholic that thought that my duplex was his one night and passed out on my front lawn crazy. You just can’t make this shit up.

So, my sister-in-law decided to “help” a friend of hers by recommending that she take the place, as she and her children have to leave her abusive husband. I tried to explain to my sister-in-law that this was no place for children. I had always told her all of the bullshit that happened at this place, but she just explained that she never really heard of anything bad happening over “here”. WTF? Did she not hear me? Was I speaking a foreign language? If she was such a wonderful friend, why not offer her to stay in her five bedroom three bath house? Sure, my sister-in-law is married with five kids, but who wouldn’t do that for a woman being abused and threatened by their husband?

A few nights ago I received a call from my sister-in-law (let’s call her Angie for now). She was very angry that her friend called to see our old place and the crazy bitch that lives in one of the duplexes (she shows the places for the landlord) said that the landlord didn’t want to rent to anyone that knew my husband and I because we never paid the rent on time and owed over two months rent. Yea. Not true…we were only breaking the lease.

I have never even met this woman who needed a place so badly. Ted, my husband, told Angie not to let her friend use us as a reference, as we were breaking the lease, for the obvious reasons. So, Angie said this to me on the phone: “Now Teddy fucked it up for my friend.” Oh no. She did not just say that. I said what I needed to say about her comment about my husband and that was it. Ted immediately called her and said the same. Done.

The friend got the place. She started moving in yesterday. If Angie was a true friend, she would have told her about all of the bullshit that goes on. But no….instead I see this on Facebook:

“…Is very happy that i could help a friend and her girls out of a life threating situation! They are blessed for the new home they have and they reminded me and all the others how greatful it is to have a roof over your head and away from danger ! I am so truly happy that those girls are safe and happy now! God bless to them and mt god help you in your future journeys! Love Lots”

AND….”Is loving life and we are truly happy and greatful for what we have! we are also very blessed and greatful for what we have and dont take it for granet for what we dont have ! If its not the greatest place to live -be greatful you have roof over your head! If you dont like the food on your table be greatful you have food!”

Great. I copied and pasted both of these paragraphs, so that is exactly her grammar and hers alone. It just really pissed me off. Maybe I am reading too much into it. Maybe I am using Facebook like MySpace…a childish game directed at individual people who want to say things to but just don’t have the balls to say it to their face.

Maybe it’s exactly what I think. Angie is a self-righteous hypocrite who doesn’t care what she says to anyone and her pride is much more important than any family member or friendship. I wrote back to her requesting an apology for her remark about Ted to me and him….I doubt I’ll get one.

My question is this…..Why do adults feel the need to act like children these days? Is it because they feel age creeping up upon them and want so desperately to be young again? Do they want to be “cool ” for their kids?

This may seem like a small family squabble, but it is the culmination of so many remarks by Angie that has reached it’s breaking point.

Or maybe I have reached my breaking point.

If Momma Ain’t Happy….Ain’t Nobody Happy!

My family and I have been living in a duplex for close to a year now. It wasn’t perfect when we first saw it, but it was big, had a good school nearby, was reasonably priced and easy to move in. No, it wasn’t perfect, but I wasn’t prepared for what was to follow after moving in.

First of all, I was away when our move in date came, so my husband moved in and took pictures of all the previous damage left behind. The amount of dead roaches was innumerable. They were in kitchen draws, on floors, under the stove and refrigerator…anywhere you could think of. Of course, there was no walk through, so pictures had to suffice. He cleaned like crazy. Grease from floor to ceiling in the kitchen…it was disgusting. But, honestly, I had lived in worse places in college. But I have kids now, so we were determined to make this place as presentable as possible.

 I can handle roaches, broken faucets and peeling tiles. We sprayed and hired an exterminator. My husband can fix or build anything, so small repairs were not an issue. We installed a couple of new ceiling fans, repaired door jams that were broken upon move in. I painted a room or two. It was mostly tile, so a few throw rugs here and there were fine. The bedrooms carpets left a lot to be desired. Even though I was informed they were professionally cleaned, the stains were clearly visible and the smell was distinct….pet urine. We scrubbed them to no avail. The peel and stick tiles throughout the living room were peeling up and breaking apart. They were stained and black….a magic eraser couldn’t even get the shit off.

But, you get what you pay for.

All of the cosmetic problems aside….I had no idea what we were getting into with the neighbors. There are four duplexes for a total of eight units. All of them were rented when we moved in. Jake is eight and there were plenty of kids his age here to play with. Big mistake. These kids were rotten….and I mean future orange jumpsuit wearing rotten. Jake is the first one to tell me if some kid acting like an ass. After a few incidents of bulling, other kids smoking and swearing and the usual bullshit, I decided that these were not the calibre of children I was comfortable letting my son play with. One kid used to come over everyday….even school nights…and stay all day, eat dinner and my husband ended up walking him home at 9:00 PM. I never even met his parents and they never came looking for him. I felt bad for him. Until the day he shot Jake and another kid with a BB gun. Then I called the police.

There were multiple calls to the police. These kids were always left unsupervised. No parent was ever around to keep tabs, make sure they were safe, or make sure they were fed for that matter. I was the only parent outside yelling at all these kids when they were all acting like assholes. I quickly became know as “the bitch”. I told a fifth grader who had been bulling Jake that the day I moved in was the worst day of his life. He didn’t answer. All the kids that Jake used to play with now wanted to beat him up. But, here’s where they underestimated Jake. He has had close to six years of karate. The kids were fair at first. Jake would come in and tell me that so-and-so tried to hit him and he punched them in the face and gave them a roundhouse kick. I have always told Jake not to be a bully and stick up for smaller kids….don’t hit other kids, but defend yourself if you need to. Well, he did.

Soon, he had beat every kid in this wretched neighborhood, no matter what size they were. That’s when they decided to gang up on him. They couldn’t beat him one on one, so they resorted to fighting dirty. I watched out of the window everyday when he played with one of the two good kids in the neighborhood (they were not allowed to play with the Manson Children either). Jake was great…never afraid….I stepped in lots of times. I saw the fifth grader pouring gasoline into a soda can one day. I took a picture with my phone….I am all about getting the evidence. Ted, my husband, went to tell his mother, as no matter how bad a kid is, it is always because of an underlying problem in the home and really not completely their fault. The mother quickly called her son on his cell and he denied it, so she said…”he said he wasn’t doing it.” Ok. Ted just said that when he ends up in the hospital with second and third degree burns that he had warned her. Thankfully, he never did do anything stupid.

They wrote “Fuck your mother” on my sidewalk outside my door. They told every chance they could that I was mean and a bitch. Jake just told them to shut up unless they were in his face…then he punched them. It took months, but these rotten kids finally realized that I was not going to stop watching their actions and that Jake was not a kid to fuck with….so they finally stopped.

That’s when the new neighbors moved in. Two domestic calls to the police later…not even by me…and I told Ted I had enough. We are preparing to move as I type.

Here’s what makes me so angry: These kids have no one to look up to. The parents are not around. If they are, most are usually drunk or just inside the house not giving a shit what their kids are doing. I have always believed that everything begins in the home. So, it was inevitable that these kids are the way they are. If you do not teach your kids values and morals early…this is what you get. I see a future of saddness and prison for most of them. I don’t care what they think of me…or the parents for that matter, but throughout all of this nonesense, I did try to talk to some of them and tell them to be kind and to be friends with everyone. It was to no avail, but I felt obligated to do something that they were not getting from their parents.

Once, Ted went outside and played football with all of these kids. They were happy, friendly, nice….not the little pricks that picked on my son. They were getting what they craved so desparately….attention.

It is amazing what happens when parents just pay attention to their children.

Why am I surprised?

I have had many friends…more like acquaintances…come and go throughout the years. All due to life’s circumstances, be it a job change, moving, leaving college…whatever. But there are a lot of people, come to find out, that have family members come and go throughout their lives. And I am talking about the same ones every couple of years.

As I have written before, my family issues are no secret. I don’t get embarrassed by much, as long as it’s the truth. And one person’s version of the truth is not always the same as the other person’s…but that’s not what I am writing about.

I looked for a couple of friends from about ten years ago on Facebook a few days ago. I found them and sent a message, which was returned immediately. A chat started on line, then emails were exchanged and the next thing I knew….we were on the phone like no time had ever passed between us. Our parting ten years ago was not pretty, but that was ten years ago and I figure, who gives a shit anymore….so now we’re talking about getting together on the weekend. We never even mentioned why we didn’t speak for so long…it was just two people catching up.

Normal enough.

This morning I was writing my daily quotes on various websites and found myself on Facebook at the same time a family member was. This is an individual that I had talked to everyday, multiple times a day for over seven years. Now, we have spoken about four or so times in the last year and a half. No chat was initiated by either of us. I have tried in the past by email and phone to communicate, but it is obvious that some of my family are still not willing to meet me half way…or any way for that matter. So, I have done what I can. I am not going to beat a dead horse.

So, how is it that two people that were so close and related by blood for the rest of their lives just not speak? I didn’t kill anyone. I have apologized multiple times to many people…many of which didn’t even require or deserve an apology, as they were not involved in the matter. I made huge mistakes, but how long am I going to be held in contempt for them? How could someone just flat out ignore someone they claimed to have loved and still do?

Is pride such an important issue?

Sometimes we have to just let go of things and leave our pride to the wayside. In the grand scheme of things…..I wonder how it will go down?

Maybe this is an example of one of my family members waiting to get into the pearly gates:

God: “I know all that has happened between you and Alex. What is the reason for never forgiving or speaking to her?”

Family Member: “She has made so many mistakes. I just couldn’t be around her any longer. ”

God: “So, was it worth it?”

Family Member: “Yea, God, I am sooo glad I never spoke to her again. “Do I need a ticket or something to get in?”

Ummm….yea…it’s sounds really stupid when it’s laid out there like that doesn’t it? I guess this is what my father will be saying on his deathbed….

“Man, I am sooo glad I stopped talking to my daughter and grandchildren. It fills my heart with such joy that I took my wife’s advice and wrote her off. I have never felt better.”

That’s pride….one of the seven deadly sins.

http://www.deadlysins.com/sins/

Another Blog worth reading:

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://wwwestlake.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/lg-7deadlysins1.jpg&imgrefurl=http://wwwestlake.wordpress.com/2009/02/13/seven-deadly-sins-me-and-my-shadow/&usg=__i2iqysCsfhlyefKmtFq8LvIr6rU=&h=382&w=560&sz=70&hl=en&start=17&sig2=_n9zwb1tc2q_3M8afbbRHw&um=1&tbnid=KY98YeZTmFYq6M:&tbnh=91&tbnw=133&prev=/images%3Fq%3D7%2Bdeadly%2Bsins%26hl%3Den%26rlz%3D1T4ADBF_enUS318US319%26sa%3DN%26um%3D1&ei=XGUdSqKNENGgmAeax8mBDQ

Potentially Explosive

I write everyday. On line, in journals, on napkins…anywhere I can. It has always come so easily, naturally…effortlessly. I have never been someone who was at a loss for words. I have always been the one with the quick comeback, funny joke….cute little quip. Right now…..I’ve got nothing.

I have so much to write about. My mind is full of so many things that need to get out that I am just overloaded. It’s not writer’s block…it’s  anti-writer’s block. I don’t know where to start. I don’t even want to start most days. It’s like I know my mind is going faster than my fingers can type or write. I know it will be a nightmare to try writing, so I don’t even start. My head literally hurts. I know it can be potentially explosive.

But, I have been sick for a couple of days, so I have had time to think, sleep, puke and relax.

I have written about my family in past blogs….about their choices and mine…how I now know where I stand (or fall for that matter).  After two weeks of unanswered phone calls, I finally got in touch with my grandmother on her cell phone at “the home”. She sounded so defeated, broken….just not the woman I knew before. I know she is going to 89, but ones life circumstances changes a person…and I don’t believe that she is happy…no matter what I am told.

Anyway, she said my father was having some tests for his heart….that he “wasn’t feeling well again”….her words. Last year he had the same issues and was tested for heart problems. He claimed to be fine, but I don’t think he would really tell me if he were not. So, I wrote him an email asking if he was OK. I can’t call him, as he is only allowed to speak freely when alone…without the presence of his wife. I am waiting to hear back from him.

This is what bothers me. No matter how my family feels about me, why am I not privy to any information on anyone’s health or well being? I sometimes think that some one will be dead and buried before I am informed, just because of the grudges that are being held. It has been over 18 months and no one has budged. I can’t imagine how this is still happening, as it took my mother’s death to bring my family back together at one point almost nine years ago. I can say all day long that I have to move on, let it go….they have seemingly got on with their lives, what is holding me back?

It hurts. It is a completely devestating feeling to have so many individuals in your life…and your child’s life….for almost a decade and then…..gone. It is like a death….there is mourning, anger, regret….all of the same feelings as a death. So, I guess I am to assume that when any one of the members of my family are to pass during this silent treatment, that I have no more emotion to feel?

Have I done it all already?

Everyone’s family is dysfunctional in one way or another. No one has the perfect set up. But when dysfunction turns into total alienation it is a completely different feeling.

I sent an email to the most important members of my family last Friday. I told them I loved and missed them.  I said I wanted to say it while I still could…while there was still time…before it was too late. I said I didn’t expect anything…I just wanted them to know.

I received no response from two of them, one sent an Obama joke and the other a TMZ video.

This brings dysfunction to a whole new level.

The Beginning of The End…Part 2:

Has anyone every seen the movie “Blast from the Past”? Brendan Fraser and Alicia Silverstone?…..it’s a cute movie about a 30 year old guy that lives in a bomb shelter since birth and eventually comes up for supplies for his family. Long story short…he falls in love with the girl and she meets the parents. The guy (“Adam”, Brendon Frasier) had this line in the movie that I always remembered. It was something like this…”The parents take care of the children, then in turn, the children take care of the parents…that’s just how it’s done”. Something to that effect….but it’s true. That IS how it should be. Anyone who was raised properly with love and everything they ever needed or wanted should, in turn, take care of the people who may have given up so much to do that for them. The sacrifices that parents make are not measurable. Yes, we choose to become parents, but the act of giving up so much so that another human being you are responsible for can eventually live out their dreams is nothing short of miraculous.

That is what my grandmother and grandfather did for my father and uncle. They would have never become a pilot and lawyer without the help of their parents, my grandparents. When my parents divorced and we lived with my father, my grandmother stepped right in. He would never be where he is today without the sacrifices she made for my sisters and I. Who wants to become a parent again at the age of sixty? My grandfather was long gone…since 1979, the year my youngest sister was born and Gram gave up whatever she may have had planned in the future in order to take care of us.

In my last blog concerning this touchy subject, I stated that my father and uncle said Gram would never, ever go in a “home”. They did lie. My sister and I both offered to help take care of Gram after she fell. After all, she did raise us, I promised her I would always be there to take care of her and we wanted to. All the reassurances that she is well taken care of and how no one would be able to care for her like she is being cared for now and how my father always picks her up every weekend and they have dinner at his house with her…..that she is doing great….likes it at “the home”….I hear it every time (and it’s not that often I speak to my father any more) he calls or I call him. I have never spoke to my uncle about it. Quite frankly, he is not very personable and probably doesn’t want to talk to me either. My father can talk all he wants about how better off Gram is at her new “home”. The bottom line is this:

He isn’t trying to convince me, my sisters, my grandmother, his friends….no one….he is trying to convince himself.  He, my uncle and their wives were not willing to give up their lifestyles to accommodate the woman who was responsible for those lavish lifestyles. She molded them into the successes they are today and this is how they repay her. I don’t care if my father never speaks to me for the rest of my life….I will still take care of him if he needs to be later in his life. I would never do that to someone who had sacrificed so much for me.

Just like no one, except Gram, can forgive me for the credit card fiasco….I will never forgive my father and uncle for what they have done to their own mother. It’s disgraceful.

Sometimes we have to give up our dreams to do what is right.

And Karma’s a bitch….

TO BE CONTINUED…..

This wasn’t covered on Oprah…..

We all think we do it right….we remain calm, collected, make lists and prepare for the “discussion”.

A conversation….a compromise…..what we get is something all together different.

Why is it that no matter how hard someone tries to have a serious discussion about a serious, life altering issue…the other party just wants to bring up shit that is irreverent and doesn’t address the subject? Why is the “past” always dragged into it? It’s called the “past” for a reason. It’s over.

past

-adjective

1.	gone by or elapsed in time: It was a bad time, but it’s all past now.

2.	of, having existed in, or having occurred during a time previous to the present; bygone: the past glories of the Incas.

3.	gone by just before the present time; just passed: during the past year.

4.	ago: six days past.

5.	having formerly been or served as; previous; earlier: three past presidents of the club.

6.	Grammar. designating a tense, or other verb formation or construction, that refers to events or states in time gone by.

–noun

7.	the time gone by: He could remember events far back in the past.

8.	the history of a person, nation, etc.: our country’s glorious past.

9.	what has existed or has happened at some earlier time: Try to forget the past, now that your troubles are over.

10.	the events, phenomena, conditions, etc., that characterized an earlier historical period: That hat is something out of the past.

11.	an earlier period of a person’s life, career, etc., that is thought to be of a shameful or embarrassing nature: When he left prison, he put his past behind him.

12.	Grammar. a. the past tense, as he ate, he smoked. b. another verb formation or construction with past meaning. c. a form in the past tense.

What’s that on #1???….“It was a bad time, but it’s all past now.”….What about #11?….“When he left prison, he put his past behind him.”

 I’ll tell you why the “past” is always a hot button to press. It is used against a person when there is nothing intelligent to contribute. They have no valid point, so they go for the jugular. It’s classic.

When you don’t have a leg to stand on…..you try to take out the opponent’s legs.

Maybe they feel threatened by the subject. Maybe they just don’t want to talk about it. But, if something is bothering someone you love so much you would think that the person would want to help fix it. How anyone can sit and watch their loved one sit and cry and just continue to belittle and make light if the issue is inexplictable to me. It’s borderline sadistic.

sadism

–noun

1.	Psychiatry. sexual gratification gained through causing pain or degradation to others. Compare masochism.

2.	any enjoyment in being cruel.

3.	extreme cruelty.

Take a look at #2….“any enjoyment in being cruel”.

When you love someone, you would think that you would do anything within your power to help them or ease their pain, no matter what the cause…especially if you are the cause. It is horrible what we do to each other in the name of love and a fair fight. I have used the past and hurt loved ones in arguements and have had it done to me also. It doesn’t feel good on either end. Particualrly the first. Hurting the one you love just to try and prove your point is not fair….it’s cheating. Every discussion begins with the good intention of working an issue out. No one expects to be hurtful or vindictive, but that is our nature. When threatened, we realiate with a greater vengence. It’s not right, it just happens to be true. Humans have never been able to distinguish themselves from animals in their basic instincts. The protective mother, vengeful lover, or sexual impulses of procreation.

 The road to Hell is paved with good intentions……

I watched the movie “The Day the Earth Stood Still” last night. It wasn’t a particularly good movie, but it had a very valid and poigent message.

When faced at the brink or precipce of great destruction is when we finally change.

My husband and I were at that brink a few years ago. We decided it would be best to live apart and try to work it out. We made arrangements to see apartments for him, as I wanted to be sure it was a good place for the kids to be when they went over to their father’s. We found one just a few blocks from the house we were in. It was close, in the price range and had lots of room. An old Italian lady came down from her home a few doors down…she owned the apartment building. She showed it to us and it seemed just perfect. She asked if it was just for us. We explained what we were doing.

She was looking at us as if we were insane.”So”, she said, “you’re a gonna a live a  apart and a try to a work it a out? What is a the a  sense in a that? You a younger a generation don’t a realize what a you are a doing.” We laughed a little, thanked her and said we would be in touch.

I had a lot to think about on that short drive home. I guess my husband did the same. We didn’t fight that night, but talked….really talked without being mean and hurtful. He never did take the apartment and we worked it out. It was at the precipce of that moment that we realized the impact of our decision. That woman talked us out of renting her apartment. I think that was her intention all along.

It took me longer than normally to write this, as I didn’t know how to put into words how strongly these feeling are for me. I am guiltly of being hurt and guilty of administering the pain as well.

It is when we are at the brink of a breakdown that we finally realize what we need to do. I feel as if I am slowly walking toward the precipce of something huge. I don’t know if I will change what I need to…..

or just jump.

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