Employment and Disability: How Religion Keeps Me Sane.

I have blogged on the problems of employment as it relates to disability before. But, this time, I got to stroll down my own employment/self-image/disability nightmare. Going out of the gate, I have some serious problems with out-of-control pride trying to hide the shame of being disabled. I used to hide behind money, but I recently attempted to build another Castle in the air around employment.

I truly enjoy dog and cat sitting. As a job it is almost immoral to be paid to do almost nothing, other then live in someone,s home, while using their computer to study and work almost as though I were at my house. I guess all the actual "pet" duties take up a whole thirty minutes. And that is stretching it! So, when I'm offered a small per/day rate, it makes sense to me. I was starting to feel real good inside about finally landing another part-time job.

The last job I attempted to land was a volunteer stint at a school for handicapped children. I managed to get "fired" from a volunteer position! Oh, how I wept over that one. Actually, there was a major fight in progress between my room supervisor and her boss, which I was unaware of. I became an unwilling ball in a truly ugly game of office politics. Even though I know these things to be facts. I was shattered in terms of looking for further work. When you can't even give it away...

The first real crushing piece of reality arrived when I put together my twenty plus years of housekeeping experience on a resume. Now, normally, that is some serious employment power. Not when you legally qualify to carry a white cane, but use a walker because your balance is worse then your poor vision. My landlord told me that it would cost him $10,000 to put me on his building insurance because I'm a tenant in the building I want to be hired to clean! Personally it sounds like a lie, but who knows?

Left that shocking interview in tears. The same old story, twenty years of any experience for the able-bodied is usually a ticket to success, but for the disabled, we are treated like you treat your four-year-old child. A child who presents you with a drawing of a car. It is cute, and you love her. But, in reality it is totally useless to you. I feel that the worst price of disability is never being allowed to truly "grow up". We are always reduced to a "less-then" status.

When you add to this toxic mix of rage and despair the years of knowing there is just something so wrong with you, it is easy to learn to hate yourself. Because there is something so bad that your parents were sad you didn't die at birth. Something so bad that my existence, by itself, was responsible (in their eyes) for destroying my parents lives. You have a very nasty feeling which never really goes away. I have learned to ignore these things pretty well, most of the time.

I can site chapter and verse of why my parents were all screwed-up and how God doesn't make "accidents". But my heart and feelings are still pretty mangled. In my younger, pre-Christian days I tried to make people meet my social needs through brute force, begging or manipulation. Eventually, I just got used to always being alone and realizing I had no clue as to how to deal with people in a successful, "like on TV manner".

Coming to God didn't magically change all of that. Because God is merciful and loving, he didn't immediately demolish my pride-castle-in-the-air. For a long time, it was all I had. I lived most of my life in my mind, daydreaming of the day when all my needs would be met and I'd be loved. That great day when I was popular and no longer poor.

Once firmly committed to serious emotional work, I had enough courage to attempt to deal with my 'reality'. Today God keeps me from getting totally lost in the depression over the conflicts around work, money and self-esteem. When I know I've had it, with the white flag waving and I'm screaming for mercy, God will handle whatever has demolished my adult. When your adult goes away, you are left with your little-kid self. That part of me really can't handle adult situations. God helps that part of my panic also.

A friend innocently asked me about my wages on my cat-sitting job. He implied that perhaps I was being taken advantage of. "Oh, great, another 'pretend' job", I raged. I felt the beginnings of a nasty depression. Being he is a man who strives for justice and has built his own business, he gave me logic, as to why being slow should not prevent someone from making a decent wage. Say, instead of $40,000 a year, maybe only $24,000 a year. I tactlessly informed this babe-in-the-woods when it comes to the disabled (read blind), that the problem is about fear and prejudice, not logic.

Logically, it is stupid to shut out 75% of blind people from productive work. A friend has a degree from a top-flight engineering school. With his 3.9 GPA, he got interviewed by the CIA. For, on paper, he never mentioned this little "problem" of total blindness. He is the only member of his graduating class not to have a full-time job. He was sure that people would not waste his obvious brain power, grit, determination and courage. He never got hired for anything. He eventually gave up. So today, he collects social security, while living with his parents and a guide dog. He spends his days reading. Or rather, listening to whatever catches his fancy. He's grossly overweight and as far as I can see, spinning his 46-year-old-wheels waiting to die. He is still a little boy, playing peacefully in his room, while the world takes "care" of him. What a WASTE!

In Theory a stay-in-the-home pet sitter can get $175 a night! In theory I could get more per hour as a housekeeper. When I explored these possibilities with Maria. She became cold as ice and informed me that to double my wages would cause me to lose my jobs with her and her friend, who I also work for. I had come to her as a friend and my substitute mother. I hurt badly inside. Her solution was to question why I'd let a stranger know anything about my wages. My friend back east is by far no stranger, but she doesn't understand computer relationships.

I also had to face some hard truth about my planned vacation to Boston. Got to postpone it for yet another year. The new computer will be at least $1,400 and possibly as high as $1,900. I'll probably just end up getting the cheapest mac I can buy, if I go new, and just put up with the slowness. I really loathe this state of affairs. I can go with a refurbished mac, but that's a crap-shoot also. The ones that were available on Saturday are all gone now. So, Marie agreed to loan me the extra money for the computer. I only have $1,000 in the bank at the moment. All in all a truly awful day from an emotional perspective.

My friend back east suggested I talk to God. My first response was to sob at God that even though I may be getting screwed, I just can't handle this stuff any more. $250 in my hand is worth a lot more then a theoretical $1,000 out there in the bush. I knew it was time to go to church.

People at church see the problem. Blacks have a whole other spin on life. Having a bad self-image is the norm. Everyone gets it about arriving at the place where I'll take the crumbs, vs having nothing to eat at all. I just have to leave this one alone. I love sleeping with the cat. I realize how lonely I must really be, if having a ball of fur curled up next to me makes me feel physically better. (Oh, yeah, I'd love a cat, but where to I board my cat while I'm taking care of your cat?) So, the job is worth it to me. My depression is still here, but slowly receding.

About the only thing I'm truly thankful for in this current situation, is that in spite of feeling some very uncomfortable feelings, I'm not emotionally out-of-control. There was a time when this kind of emotional turmoil caused me to see and hear things that weren't there. There was a time when I thought suicide was the solution to all my problems.

Today, I want to live to feel and grow for another day. I do respect this part of my very real healing. Dumping my temporarily "unresolvable conflict" unto God helps me move from despair back to hope and a willingness to continue. I truly cannot imagine a life without a God I can talk to, lean on and love. Because God has been so wonderfully gentle with me, it is easier for me to cut others a bit of slack. This is truly a miracle of healing at the deepest level.

The Blessings of Life: Dogs and Cats I have loved.

I have been cat-sitting here in the beautiful Berkeley hills for almost two weeks. Since I love dogs and cats, this is a dream job. Animals have been my healing strength more than once in my chaotic life. As I continue to reflect on God and His amazing creativity, I am humbled by a small black, brown and white kitty who has decided she can trust me. She has decided I'm safe to sleep with.

I lay very still as she makes the little circles, deciding exactly how and where she will lie down on, or near me. I can feel the faster pace of her breathing. As she drifts off to sleep her body twitches slightly, here and there as she releases herself into deeper levels of rest. I pray for the people and animals in my life.

I wake again, very early this morning. I'm now on my side and miss kitty has made a cozy nest behind my bent knees. She has positioned herself to have as much physical contact with me as is comfortably possible. I marvel at the beauty of God's creation. Ever take the time to truly examine any plant near your home? I concluded, as a teenager that God must exist, because of the beauty I saw in a Bay leaf, examined under a microscope. No man could have fashioned that.

Animals respond to prayer. I do not know if they see angels, or just feel the difference in my attitude, when I focus my attention off the mundane and turn to the eternal. I have seen dogs sit in wrapped attention as I pray. I have seen cats sit quietly while I pray, and then, when I am finished, they leap and twirl in the air with joy.

I know animals sense far more then we give them credit for. They may not understand your words to them, but they know when you are happy, sad, angry, or sorry. I have learned the subtle ways of sadness my charges express as they realize their "people" are gone, when I first arrive to stay with them. I have frustrated more then one pet owner because their cat will come when I call, but will absolutely ignore their owner!

I have helped abused animals recover from a bad kitten-hood, or puppy-hood. I really believe one must be mentally ill to deliberately injure a defenseless kitten, or puppy. A roommate of mine rescued a stray kitten after she saw the apartment manager drop kick it off the property. She breathlessly told me the story, securing my permission to include a kitten in the shared apartment. She ran downstairs and reappeared with a beautiful smokey-gray, trembling, drooling and terrified kitten. This kitten was lovely. Her fur was not shiny, but a flat charcoal /smoke gray. So, what else, we called her Smokey.

Since I was not working at the time, Smokey became my cat. I'd hold her in my lap for hours. She eventually stopped trembling and drooling. She was afraid to purr while awake. She'd purr as she was drifting off to sleep. But would wake and leap straight up in the air at the slightest noise. After several years, Smokey decided it was safe to purr and sleep.

She was a determined trouble-maker. Cats are nocturnal, so about 11 PM, it was time for her to rock 'n 'roll. I was trying to sleep, but heard her leap somewhere and suddenly a heavy picture crashed off the wall followed by a loud yowl from a cat underneath said picture. I rescued one cat and my roommates expensive artwork. Smokey thus learned not to bat at things hanging on the walls!

Smokey was the first cat I really got to be close with. She slept on my chest, or along the side of my body. When I left that apartment and the roommate who I couldn't bear to live with anymore, Smokey never forgave me. That cat refused to even let me pet her. I felt just terrible. But I was living in a no-pets situation. Smokey suffered a lot when I left.

The next cat I got close to was Sandy, a friend's cat. I cleaned her house and Sandy showed me how a helpful cat can keep even a determined housekeeper from making a bed. When I came to my friend, the night my batterer threw me out of the house, Sandy stuck really close to me. She wrapped her little body around my arm when I slept. I could feel her little heartbeat. Things come around full-circle. I helped an abused kitten, and a cat was helping me recover from two years of being battered.

Dogs and cats both show affection, but their styles are very different. A dog will greet you, after you have left a room for five minutes, like you are the return of Jesus. A cat won't even react when you return to a room - unless they want something. Cats come on their terms. Dogs just worship you.

So, I share my musings about beloved animals I've known, tended and loved. My life is richer and fuller for the part my four-legged furry friends have played in my world.

Humor: Analogies and Metaphores From High School Essays.

Note: Every once and a while something shows up in your inbox which is so bad, its good. Read through all of these. This is a new twist on the old theme of REALLY bad writing.

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides, you
know like gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled around in his head, making and breaking alliances
like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free softener.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy
who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
schools about the dangers of looking at solar eclipses without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was
room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as-like-whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of
his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock-like a surcharge at a formerly
surcharge-free ATM.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball would not.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled
with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy
comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry
them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds that had
also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East
River.

18. Even in his last years, my grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long that it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, just like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil,
this plan just actually might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating
for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a
real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
behind her, just like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing their kids around
waving power tools at them.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
she were a garbage truck backing up.

26. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any
pH cleanser.

27. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

28. It really hurt like the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally
staple it to the wall.

My Friend Thinks He's Fat: Memories of Dieting HELL!

Never give advice on something as touchy as dieting without asking permission. I asked and my friend said: "no". Unlike my sicker, more co-dependent self, I dropped the subject, but my friend's post made me sad. I think loathing dieting and chasing after "beauty" are second only to my hatred of child abuse. I'm not worried about my friend. He knows who he is, where he wants to go and how to get there. But his post reminded me of some issues that pain me deeply.

My friend is all freaked out because he's porked up by 30 pounds. Hell, my MD would have a religious experience if I only had to lose 30 pounds! I come in at the "grossly obese" 80 pounds over where I should be. But unlike my friend, I don't see this as a huge problem, as there are mitigating circumstances. Psych meds ALL make you gain weight and HOLD onto it as though your body is in starvation mode. When you can't lose weight on Atkins - I didn't cheat either, you got something pretty powerful keeping that fat in place!

My friend mentioned that he is happy, in another post. He didn't start to gain weight until his self-satisfaction and life happiness went up. But, he also doesn't have the free time to exercise, he once had. He is also getting older. Yeah, as you get further away from twenty, it is harder to shed those pounds. So, I wish him well. Thank God he isn't going to go crazy-crash-diet diet pill crazy!

When I hear someone lament being overweight I want to sob. The child abuse refugees I've seen who get trapped into this cycle do things to themselves worthy of a long stint in a psychiatric hospital - but our culture calls starvation-thin beauty.

Here's the deal. Just like having heaps of money will not automatically make you happy, having the perfectly fit / healthy body BY ITSELF won't do it either. I was a mentally ill, socially maladjusted dweeb with no friends, who was 20 pounds overweight as a pre-teen and teen. Due to my cousin's theory that all I needed to do to get popular was to get thin and look right, I dieted until I was passing out in gym, with teachers sneaking me food on the sly! What did I learn?

I went from a "fat" mentally ill, socially maladjusted dweeb to a thin, mentally ill, socially maladjusted dweeb and NOTHING in my social life changed. Although passing out in gym did generate "stranger" concern. Until I got the professional help and medication I needed to truly have some hope of acting "normal", even at a size 8 (5'4" 100 pounds), nothing changed.

I achieved the above morbidly thin physique while living with the man who battered me for two years. He liked his gals THIN. So, he regulated my food intake. (Yeah, I SURE know how to pick 'em!) As soon as I got to eat real food again I drifted back up to where I am now, about 80 pounds over my desired weight of 120 pounds.

While I will fight tooth and claw to protect my mental health, I just can't get that upset about the physical side of things. I do try not to seek out diabetes, or having a stroke, but with the addition of huge quantities of brown rice - which I truly love, all my numbers are well within normal range! Yeah, my Dr. couldn't believe it either, but my numbers say I'm physically healthy, as I am. 'Cause I'd have to be facing death or hell to seriously revisit the world of dieting.

I think of a dear friend up north. She had a childhood that made my story look like a cake walk. Man, did she get emotionally mangled! Last year, before we'd re-established contact, she was over 500 pounds and DYING of her addiction to food. Its just like being an alcoholic, but your drug of choice is food. Its really hard to treat, as abstinence, is not an option. That's called anorexia something else this poor woman has been through. She got so messed up, that she's been written up in medical journals because nobody could believe body chemistry could be that 'off" with the patient still alive! I LOATHE child abuse.

This gal is a really cool person. Full of spunk and vinegar. She's a cool mother, a fun friend and a loving wife. But every so often that child abuse stuff sends her off into another cycle of bulimia, trying to eat herself to death. But, she has gotten it together with God and a church community and things are looking much better these days. She eats to kill her pain of just plain hating everything about herself. Yes, she's in therapy (still), yes, she's been to all the recovery groups, done all the diets, plans and even a few become successful in 20 minutes programs. Now, after over 40 years of struggle, she is beginning to see that she wants to live and can actually accept being loved by God and other people. She is even toying with at least liking herself.

When we resumed contact I was so saddened and angered about her almost dying last year. She has no clue about how cool she is. It just made me heart sick. But prayer keeps my own anxiety at bay, as well as giving her the strength she needs to continue to heal.

So, I say to anyone who is contemplating the liquid protein, diet pill, you can take this and lose weight while you sleep routine. STOP: its a sham. A bit of protein, carbs, veges and dairy each day is a place to start. Something simple. Don't try to live on Twinkies, smoke to reduce, or coffee alone. Here's a concept: be nice to yourself! Would you ever try and make a friend diet the way you are willing to make yourself do it! I bet not!

Revisiting the Joy of Learning, (in spite of low vision).

I have very mixed feelings about returning to college, even though there are subjects there I'd love to try and pass, this time through! Until I left college (and the dream of ever returning) and turned my attention to the Internet and the world of the computer, I'd given up on ever returning to school for anything. Too many painful, in-your-face confrontations with vision that always seemed to fail me in places and ways I couldn't find a work around. And then there were a few extremely bitter and painful confrontations with professors and their prejudices.

Sure, I went through the "Disabled Services Department" for help. Hey, the guy had tenior - so they rolled over on their backs like a scared puppy. Great. I changed majors from Psychology to ENGINEERING!

Now, that's a grand choice for the nearly blind! If I'd had the brain power, I believe the department would have stuck by me, but after three semesters of Calculus, my classmates brains made a leap I couldn't follow and I washed out.

Not really bad, as ninety percent of ALL prospective engineering majors don't make it. But, as usual, I was hanging out there, way out there. Lot of guts, but perhaps lacking in a realistic acceptance of my disability. Naah, its nice here in de nile!

So, I have been building my life on what I can really accomplish. With some serious help from Phillip, my church's website is up and running. Our church is cranking out the grant paperwork to purchase our current building and convert it into an after school tutoring center. We will then move to a historic church elsewhere in the city.

When pastor called for teachers, he said they must have certification. I knew I didn't have it and wasn't willing to venture back to SF State for much of anything. I have seen the meat grinder of a blind person bucking the educational system in an area like teaching. I got guts, but I don't have THAT much courage.

So, in spite of a strong temptation to "beg" for a position, I kept my mouth shut and attended to my in place duties. I kept the website up and more-or-less current and put out a printed bulletin every week. Then I got sick and everything got way behind. It was early February and our website was dealing with December activities. Woopsie!

When I finally got back to church, pastor said he wanted to talk to me. (I bet he does. Do we have a webmaster around here?) I waited for a gentle request to get off my duff and update the website. What pastor actually shared shocked me completely.

"You were the first person I thought of. I want to hire you to tutor computers in the after school program. I believe in you. I just know you can do it. I watch you. You get discouraged, but you don't give up." Here is where wisdom stays quiet, so I jumped right in, informing this dear man that I had no degree, teaching credential, or certification!

"Sister, I don't care. You have taught me about the computer. I believe in you." Friends, it felt so good. I wanted to go out and do something worthy of his opinion of me. I knew I'd need to study about the Microsoft side of things, fast, as most of the donated equipment would be PCs.

Once again, Phillip came through, recommending a wonderful tutorial site: Virtual Training Company. For $30 / Mo. I can study anything I want, as much as I want. So, I did a demo lesson bracing myself for the ever popular tooth-pulling pain of all my vision prevents me from doing. These lessons are short videos. Videos I can PAUSE, REWIND and REPLAY. That pause feature is like a miracle to me.

The instructor clicks something on the screen. I hit pause and have the time to inspect the screen, until I locate what has been done and where. This is the thing which used to make school intolerable. By the time I figured out step one, the class was on step ten! I always felt like I was trying to play solitaire with 48 cards. I never could really comprehend the full scope of the material presented. So, I learned to read books, always playing catch-up.

This lovely website has made it possible for me to concentrate on LEARNING without that horrid frustration of being behind and NEVER being able to really catch up. It feels wonderful. Because the lectures are divided into very small segments, three to seven minutes, you have time to actually digest what is happening. For the first time ever, I'm not all freaked out about having to deal with a PC. I now understand the screen layout, how it is different from my Macintosh and how it is the same. I will learn how to adjust the PC so I can read it more easily. I have a sense that this tutoring adventure is truly doable.

We hope to start working with kids in May, so I have time to get up to speed on a variety of subjects. Since I can now get electronic textbooks and can leave the physical book behind, I can get my basic algebra skills back, along with a bit of accounting. As far as tutoring on the computer goes, I've got a lot of experience on the Macintosh side of things. Translating over to the PC is not an entirely new venture. Both systems do pretty much the same thing, but they accomplish tasks differently. I am truly grateful for the technology which has opened up the world of learning for me, in a way it has never been available before.

Even When I Was A "Stupid" Customer, Apple Made It Right!

Being I just received an iPod Shuffle as a gift, I wanted to get the two-year-protection plan for it. For $39 I have full coverage for two whole years. That is a very good deal.

Upon going on-line I found my model and selected the apple care item and proceeded to checkout. I was shocked to see a $4. shipping charge. I couldn't figure out how to go back and fix it, but since this was a contract, what's to ship? I figured the computer would correct this error. No dice. I got nailed for the extra $4. I don't care about the money, but what was I paying for?

I called the apple store and found out - egg all over my face - that Apple Care comes in two versions. Automatic enroll - nothing is shipped AND manual enroll, where I get a CD with instructions on how to manually enroll myself. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I clicked "manual enroll". So, I was willing to let it go. but Apple took off the shipping charge, even though, they are shipping me the CD and instructions!

Now, THAT's customer service!

CyberGal Now Owns An iPod Shuffle!

Yesterday was Valentines Day. I had a moment of two regretting that I had no boyfriend to get me candy. But I got over that aborted pity party remembering what a pain-in-the-backside a bad relationship can be. I'm not ready for romance. I know that God gives me everything I need and I can buy my own candy.

My Plantronics headphones bit the dust. Since they're still under warranty Plantronics was doing overnight shipping. This meant I had to get to my P O box. I'm getting over this cold, but am still not really back to well yet. I wanted to get in and out quickly, as I had other errands to run. So, my mailbox lock assembly broke and wouldn't release my keys, or open my box. Oh, sigh! I love the Security company I rent from, but so do most of the other people who live in the Bay Area. This place is always very busy. It took almost a half hour just to bring my problem to someones attention.

Of course, my mailbox was not an easy fix. I got my mail and keys, while they fiddled with my box. But, my expected package had indeed arrived! Ya gotta love a company who does overnight shipping FOR FREE in both directions! So, with new headphones in tow, I headed for my Kinkos / FedEx shipping buddies.

Once in line, (they're another great, but busy business), I opened my new headphones, ready to do the swap with my broken old set. But, the box wasn't right. A bit too small. Before leaving my P O Box, I made sure this item was really addressed to me. But the sender's information was just a stamped number.

Upon actually opening this box I had another shock. "Apple (logo) Certified...". Huh? The inner box was the size of a package of CDs! For sure, I know when I order something, and I hadn't ordered anything from Apple! Plantronics wouldn't be mailing me stuff from another company. What the heck? Realizing I had to do some serious investigating, I got out of line and went over to an empty work table.

Upon opening the second box I was totally confused. Some string, like expensive shoe laces, a CD, printed manuals, tiny headphones and a little white plastic rectangle, the size of a small remote control! I located the invoice only to realize I couldn't read their cryptic half-line of information. The price stuff was missing. It IS a gift! But, what in the world is it?

My Boston buddy could be the only one behind this. Since I love gifts of any kind, I felt the beginning of that lovely state of delight which gifts always bring. I totally enjoy the key chains, tacky ceramic goo-gos and post cards from places my friends have visited. But I also like bigger things. This was tech, but I tried to remember if I'd ever mentioned wanting a remote control for my iTunes listening pleasure.

So, I find the manual and darn near fainted. An "iPod Shuffle"! Holy moley! I just got a 14-day cat-sitting gig and could sure use this! Way cool! Well, since I didn't need to ship anything, I headed to a coffee shop, before continuing to Radio Shack. Had to get a USB extension cable and a cheap set of USB headphones to have on hand as a "spare".

Oh the mysteries of pricing. $10 for a Skype-ready headset with mic. $29 for a 10-Ft. USB extension cable! What did they make the connectors of, gold? Then to Walgreens to track down some orange juice. Almost $5 for a half-gallon! But its not even concentrated, I'm paying for water! I know, I know, close my eyes and swipe that little debit card.

Upon arriving home, I had tech toys to set up. After unpacking cable, headphones and my little tiny iPod, my room looked like I'd been in a tornado! Finally figured out I needed to use the extension cable for the iPod, as my USB ports are decoratively recessed in my computer in a space too small for the USB connector on the bottom of the iPod. Got her all charged-up and ready for loading. I can even use it as a data storage device - should I choose this option.

Oh, I already feel like I've made a quantum leap into our culture! An iPod I don't have to try and read. I checked out the screen of an iPod and figured it was hopeless. Just can't quite read the menus. I return to the exciting present day.

I can now oil furniture as I listen to the talented patter of my friend in Boston, as he spins out a pod cast, or two. I can party down with some of my music - which I sorely miss when I'm away for weeks at a time. I can listen to lectures I've been saving for... well, you know, I want to listen to them, but not right now. This is too much fun.


Back to the mysteries of pricing. Apple provides a "dock" for this little iPod, $29 something. Too large, made of plastic and not liked by a few reviewers. I needed a SHORT extension cable. When in doubt: amazon.com. I swear, that site carries everything! Now, check this out. I got two 6-inch cables for $5 something with $5 something for shipping. Am I good or what? Also saved a 3-footer to be procured next month for, not $29, but $8 something! Oh how sweet it is!

My mind roams over more plans. I can download some of my friend's pod casts for sweet Maria to listen to and enjoy. She and I will have some fun "posing" action shots of me with Cybershuffle oiling a piece of furniture, vacuuming or even cleaning a floor. Yeah, I know, an ego that knows no bounds!

So here is a photo of Cybershuffle. It is very hard to capture the subtleties of this small music player. It is only the length of a teaspoon handle and as wide as two of your fingers pushed together. I mean its SMALL.

Remember,the box is only the size of a CD.

Recovery: Romancing The Mentally Healthy Life.

Although desperately ill I sat transfixed watching a video of a friend's two toddlers and his wife enjoying playing together. Wow, I know mental health when I see it. These kids are physically and mentally robust and noisy. I feel a slight twinge of sadness comparing my own chaotic toddler hood. My mind dares to wonder what it would have been like... Cybergal has gone romantic, as close to a swoon as I'll ever get.

Romance is that goofy state of non-reality we pass through on our way to making serious life decisions. Ladies, this is the time in a relationship, where a cursing voice mail, proclaiming how your Beau hates voice mail can send you into hitherto unknown states of self delusion!

Then I ran into a pod cast about the author's father. A typical colorful character who probably had a very dreadful time as in immigrant in the 1920's. I was astounded that there was enough information about relatives to PRODUCE a podcast. I can tell you all I know about my extended family on the label of a pill bottle! Extreme dysfunction totally destroys the extended family structure.

While I rhapsodize over what my friend's life must be like, he politely attempts to bring me back to reality by pointing out that "It isn't always so great". Yeah, I can hear the truth of that statement as well as my love-struck girlfriend can see how crazy she is, at the moment. She insists on replaying that voice mail from her boyfriend, for me, for the tenth time. She is sure I'll eventually see his loving and compassionate nature!

I follow the stories of healthy families because they make me feel good. I bet it is an attempt to live vicariously. Yes, I'm embarrassed, but this is just another symptom of growth. The first time I was followed by a flock of pre-teens and teens from church, I was totally astonished! These children seemed to think I KNEW something. They hung on my every word. I never prayed so hard in my life, not to say the wrong thing. To study most of my life is a primmer in what NOT to do!

So I guess my friend's dirty socks don't excite his wife any more then the laundry of my x-husband excited me. Yeah, my friend's life is not one continuous moment of joy. Intellectually I get it, but my heart is having trouble letting go. Letting go of such a lovely fantasy of what mentally healthy living must be like. (Swoon)

Recovery: Truly Accepting Assistance.

Friday morning about 3 AM I noticed I was getting really ill. Sore throat, fever and an almost total loss of my voice. What's up with this? I just had a flu shot several weeks ago! I knew I would never be able to work on Monday. So, Friday afternoon, I called sweet Maria, who lovingly agreed that the house could wait. I gratefully accepted her evaluation and went back to bed.

Since I'm deeply involved with my church, I had to inform my prayer partner that I was down for the weekend. She offered to do some shopping for me. I had a sinking feeling about attempting this feat by myself. I put into practice some of that new trust I've discovered. We made arrangements for her to pick up some juice and soup.

What a soothing relief, food just appeared at my door. I felt no shame, or guilt. I've done this kind of thing for others lots of times. But this is one of the few times I permitted someone to help me! My prayer partner refused to take money for the groceries. I didn't protest, as I've done the exact same thing for ailing friends.This is another by product of recovery. Not only do you know you have a community, you actually allow yourself to lean on someone.

It sounds crazy, but my prayer partner was overjoyed to help. Just as I have been happy when an ill friend reached out to me. I am mentally healthy enough to accept good treatment from others. I also reached out to Internet friends, who also swung into action, either chatting with me, or sending me precious home movies and photos. Please hear me well. Being able to accept all of this is another flat-out miracle.

I believe I've left behind the horrid hatred of myself. I enjoy my friends. Why shouldn't they enjoy me? I am willing to lend time and effort when my friends are troubled. Why not let my friends reach out to me? If you have a long list of "why nots", copy it down somewhere and work on challenging it. You ARE worthy of goodness. I'll say it again: you are WORTHY of goodness. Why? Just because you are a human being on our planet and it seems to be how real life actually works. It is not because of what you DO, but because of who you ARE. I know, I know: Bull@#% I hear you scream.

Reporting from the land of recovery, I'm happy to report there are new levels of joy waiting for you, as you learn to accept who you are. People almost vibrate with joy as they see you taking baby steps of trust. When I don't understand someone else's motives, I look at how I'd react to a sick friend FINALLY reaching out for me to do a bit of shopping. There is goodness out here in the land of recovery beyond your wildest fantasies.

Trust and Betrayal: Anybody Else Have Trouble "Trulsting" God?

After achieving a stunning victory in my ability to "trust" God, I ran into the minefield of "Why" I have never been able to "trust" Him deeply before now (age 53: over 25 years attempting to "walk" with God.)

Always remember, fellow travelers, behind every victory of new, healthy, fluffy, clean and wonderful behavior, lies the tangled web of whatever went so wrong with your young life. I now can choose when, where and for how long I endure this necessary, but highly painful encounter with my past.

My Victory:
I have to give you a bit of background, before my victory will make sense. I'm in a Charismatic Denomination. We believe in radical public displays (at times) of the work of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes during group prayer, people get so overwhelmed they collapse to the floor, or dance, or walk/run in the Spirit. For us, it is just an occurrence of healing. People watch one another and when someone gets "happy" as I like to think about it, those closest to them make sure they don't trip, or fall over people, or objects.

I've seen this stuff faked as well as truly happening. The church I'm currently attending is the real item. I've seen people writhe on the floor, troubled with drugs, or worse and when they return to themselves, they find the strength and courage (from God) to stop the destructive behavior which had formerly trapped them.

Usually this gets started by the congregation just deciding to continue collective prayer and or singing. There have been testimonies of people who swore they'd never let themselves "go" like that. When God really gets a hold of you, there is no choice. But, when I heard and saw these things I was filled with a rage fed by terror. I delivered an ultimatum to God: "YOU WILL NOT EVER THROW ME ANYWHERE!" This amazingly strong attitude really bothered me. I've been with God long enough to know that He is boss, not me. I'm free to share my feelings, plead for things and so forth. But I NEVER call the shots over HIS behavior. All I could do was back off and apologize, in my mind, asking Him to heal me of whatever I was reacting to so fiercely.

God healed me by revealing to me, the root of my trouble. The next time prayer got serious the pastor invited anyone who wanted to, to come down to the alter, and really seek the Lord. I usually don't feel prompted to do this for myself. Most of the time, I feel led to do intercessory prayer work for other people. This day, however, I had an issue. So down to the alter I went. I also figured if God was going to "throw" me, I'd already be on the floor and it wouldn't be as bad, as being "thrown" from a standing position. (Sure was a surrendered soul here, NOT!)

I began to cry, begging God from some little-kid place of abject terror, not to throw me. I couldn't stop crying, but I was not medically out-of-control. God then showed me where my fear was coming from. He also surrounded me with a type of gentleness I know to be one of God's traits with me. An amazingly soothing, gentle and understanding spirit "held" me while I went back to the memories of my mother throwing my rebelling two-year-old self against a wall. I was watching this event from a point on the floor, in a standing position. Clearly, I had left my body. I watched myself hit the wall full force, on my left side, bent at the hips.

My left shoulder hit a picture. Both I and the picture in its frame fell to the floor. I realized from this memory why I always have had trouble when people try and massage my back on the left side. I'm prone to go into true hysterics. Needless to say, I've learned to avoid most massage!

I guess I was at the alter for about twenty minutes. I was absolutely reassured that God would NEVER hurt me. His feather-soft God-ness fulled me with peace. I shared, in my testimony about this incident. I wanted to be WILLING to let God get physical with me, if He wished to. I felt much better about my attitude. I was thankful I wasn't trying to order Him around. This change of spirit happened about a month ago.

Friday night we had a lovely sermon on the 23rd Psalm. One of those "God's got your back" sermons. I love that concept. I always remember being so afraid. Knowing at the deepest level that the last thing I could do, if I didn't want to get hurt, was to "trust" my drunken and mentally ill parents.

I remember being on my swing set as a small little girl, probably three, or four. I loved my swing set and sometimes after my father got home from work, both parents would come outside to enjoy the summer evening with me as I swung.

One night my father was really drunk. He sat down on the swing next to me and really went at it. I felt the THUMP-WHOOMP! of the entire structure being pulled out of the ground. I tried to tell my father to stop going so high. Just like he had told me, when I got carried away. My mother got angry with me, while my father just kept going higher and higher. I knew the swing set was going to fall over and got off my swing. My mother yelled, ordering me back to my swing. I did as I was told and, sure enough, the back end of the triangular swing set came completely out of the ground It toppled over, throwing me to the ground. Yeah, it was not a good idea to relax around these (or any other) people.

My mind returned to Pastor and his reassuring sermon. He asked us all to stand. There were about twenty people at church spread out around the sanctuary. I was in the second row on the left, taking sermon notes for the website. Since we were going into prayer, I put my notes down and stood. Pastor then started visiting different people individually, to pray for them. I love this process. It is so marvelous to watch the healing that happens. Most of the time it is subtle, but not always. Pastor was now in front of me. He reached out and firmly placed his hand over the top of my head. He kind of shakes when he prays. Its not a put-on or a trick. I felt myself lose my balance. I remember thinking: "God, I'm not going to fight this."

I fell back and just naturally sat back down on my pew. But, if I had fallen to either side, I knew with absolute confidence that the women on either side of me would keep me from getting hurt. I was completely relaxed! It felt good to show God that I was willing to really "risk" something. I felt strange inside. I didn't realize until returning home, that a whole lot of stuff had gotten stirred up. Trust is very hard when there is so much treachery.

I noticed this experience of trusting felt totally new. It was like the first time in my life I consciously remember doing a for-real "I trust". I thought of my friend in Boston. One of the great gifts of his friendship is the safety of being able to tell him things. I know for sure I won't lose his friendship, no matter how "out there" I might become. (That is such a lovely encouraging and nurturing fact). Since I've asked him to help me with socialization skills, from time to time he'll explain things to me. I refer to two adults joking with one another as "banter" rather then "play". He is also gently guiding me through the confusion of what is and isn't appropriate for a female to share with a male. I have great trouble with this, as depending on who I'm with, the rules seem to radically change.

I also remembered part of an almost forgotten song. Lyrics that shot through me like electricity, when I first heard it in the early 80's. I made a copy of the song, for my friend, with the lyrics. I knew this one was touching me at a very deep and still hurting place. My friend and I have radically different ideas about "what is music", but I knew he'd listen to the song and tell me what, if anything he "got" from it.

Don't Make Promises
Lyrics by Marianne Faithful.
Performed by Helen Reddy, 2006 Album : I Don't Know How To Love Him.

It seems the songs we're singing
Are all about tomorrow,
Tunes of promises that we can't keep.
Every moment bringing
A love I can only borrow,
You're telling me lies in your sleep.

Do you think I'm not aware
Of what you're saying
Or why you're saying it ?
Is it hard to keep me where
You want me staying ?
Don't go on betraying.
Don't make promises that you can't keep.

We had a chance to find it,
Our time was now or never,
You promised me things that I need.
And then the things behind it
Took away the chance forever,
You're telling me lies in your sleep.

Do you think I'm not aware
Of what you're saying
Or why you're saying it ?
Is it hard to keep me where
You want me staying ?
Don't go on betraying.

Don't make promises that you can't keep.
Don't make promises that you can't keep.
Don't make promises that you can't keep.
Don't make promises that you can't keep
-------------------------------------------------

One of the ways I heal is to find a piece of music which really "speaks" to me. I listen to it for hours, as the memories wash over me. The music helps me find my "voice". The pivital line for me is:

"We had a chance to find it,
our time was now or never
You promised me things I need"

Every time that section would replay I'd feel acute pain, with no memory. I knew if I asked God to help me, I'd locate the problem and once I remembered it, I could release it for God to heal.

My entire early life was basically one gigantic unmet need. I can tolerate almost anything else from someone in my life, except a broken promise. Here's the great part. Healthy people know how hard it is to guarantee anything - for that is what a promise is, an implied guarantee. Healthy folks don't pass out promises lightly.

When I told my friend, in Boston, that I'd be coming his way in October, he was glad. But, immediately told me that he wasn't even sure he'd be in town in October because of his ever changing work contracts. This is fine. I have goofy work stuff also and totally understand. I am so thankful that my friend hasn't ever promised me anything, officially. No dramatic speeches. Healthy people know what hell can result from an emotionally motivated promise, which is accidentally forgotten, to the hurt of someone they care about.

I trust my friend's friendship because of his consistent behavior towards me. I know that he's not perfect, as we are all flawed. So, when I feel let down, over very minor stuff, I chalk it up to his acknowledged weaknesses.

He is one of my strongest supporters. He faithfully reads my blog as I also follow his blog and pod casts. A very nice relationship which continues to deepen and broaden with the passing of time. I try to give all my friends a "safe" place where they can tell their truth. I know how good it feels to finally come out of hiding, so to speak.

Did some social phone time with another friend. I noticed I was having trouble giving her my undivided attention. My mind was busy processing something not very nice. I had to leave that phone conversation for another time, when I could be more "Present" with her. I absolutely hate it when, I'm trying to relate with someone and their mind is AWOL. Be real, I can take it. If this isn't a good time for you, your busy, tired or whatever, JUST TELL ME! I hate that co-dependent "please 'em at any cost, even if its a total lie" approach. Thankfully, most of those type folks are GONE, GONE, GONE!

After shutting down my computer chat programs and getting off the phone I knew I was free to roam back into a slime pit. I kept remembering my cousin. God, what a piece of work, one very troubled lady. Remember, before you can move to that lovely state of true forgiveness, with the details of all of THEIR problems, you have to figure out what they did TO you! Memory trolling isn't a good time to attempt a forgiving nature. I always ask God to be close to me while I relive the painful or enraging. Once the infection has been opened up and is draining, healing and real forgiveness (and freedom) from the past begin to naturally take place.

"You promised me things that I need". I kept emotionally snagging on that one line. Then it came back. Now mind you, my cousin is only ten years older then me. Taking on raising me, as she had to, after her mother's death was very hard on her life. She told me, she almost lost her marriage over the problems. I don't feel she was exaggerating. I was a mental mess and she was twenty-three and married only a few years. She found herself dealing with an enraged, broken and stubborn thirteen-year-old who actually was in need of professional help. I was too afraid to tell the truth, to get help. But, I was a mess.

One pattern with my cousin and her husband was the drunken "speech". Usually my cousin would trap me somewhere and just start talking about how much they loved me and how they'd always be there for me. She'd wrap up this emotional blow-out by sharing how they were learning to raise me, as we all stumbled along. I hated these sessions, but my aunt did the same thing. So, I'd get numb and endure.

What I didn't understand at the time, was the fact that I BELIEVED all of this. I built my basic security and person hood on the knowledge that no matter how difficult things were between my cousin and myself, she DID love me.

If I'd analysed her behavior, I would have picked up on the less then subtle clue of her real feelings. I'd be talking to her and when I no longer got a response, I'd realize that she'd just walked away without telling me! The rhythm of instant messaging threw me for awhile, as people carry on long periods of time, available to one another without actually messaging to one another. Most of the time, you don't send a message of: "I'm going away now, bye". You just realize that your partner has logged off. There is no inconsiderateness to this. When you are actively messaging to one another the "got to go" message is given.

Now I realize why I felt so strange at times when someone would just log off when we'd both been on line. The log off came after almost two hours of not messaging to each other. Ah, one less thing I have to get insecure about.

By age fifteen I began to look for God. My father had apparently laid a trip on my aunt of making sure I became a Catholic. (No WAY!) I hated THEIR God! My father's sister had clearly told me, at a very young age, just shortly after learning to walk, all I needed to know about THEIR God. Squatting down to look directly at me, she cooed: "God loved those best, He suffers most." and then she looked over my head and spoke to my drunken parents. "God did this to her because of your sin." Ladies and gentlemen, that is a very strange life script to try to follow. I was madder then hell.

I found the Baha'i' Faith. They are an apostate offshoot of Islam that believes their prophet is the fulfillment of all the promises from all other religions. My new non-Christian faith freaked out my cousin. The Baha'i's were non-political and very new age. She landed on the "you shouldn't waste your time to vote, as we're busy building heaven on earth". My summary, not necessarily theirs. So, my cousin and I went to emotional war. For religion I'll go through anything. We had many tearful, very over-dramatic fights. You know, like everyone else I heard about in high school. Mind you, I only had one friend, but she and her dad fought like me and my cousin.

I came home from school to find my cousin's husband waiting for me. I had the strangest feeling, like my room was absolutely full of people. I remember looking around, because it "felt" crowded. I sensed I was being protected from something, but it was just my cousin's husband leaning against the open door to my room, with me standing on the other side of my bed, listening to him. He dropped a bomb into my physical, moral and ethical system.

"My wife, your cousin, went to the doctor today. You know she's pregnant. I know you know that. The doctor told us that because of all your rebelling and the stress, you are causing her to have another miscarriage." This was baby number two on the way. Baby number one was born dead about four months into the pregnancy. I literally began to disassociate reality.

I began looking at things and people while thinking: "You haven't happened yet." I couldn't quite figure out what the year was. Was I in California, or Arizona? Only thing I knew was that my cousins "hadn't happened yet". I found out later, after being forced into therapy, that I was in BIG trouble. These times of confusion would last for hours. When I finally told my counselor at school about how I was thinking, she pulled out all the stops to get me help.

I had to try and figure out why they would do something like that to me. My biology teacher became completely enraged when I told him about being accused of causing my cousin to possibly lose her baby. He was shaking with anger as he carefully explained that it took more then a couple of family fights to "cause" a miscarriage.

Thankfully, the baby was born full-term and healthy in all respects. After about six months, I asked my cousin about the bit with her and the possible miscarriage. (She was never in any medical danger). She snorted and laughed: "Oh, we just made it up. I never even went to the doctor." Again, a little snorted laugh. I stood up for myself. I told her it was really damaging for me. I was freaked out through the remainder of her pregnancy. I just completely shut down.

She shocked me with her brutal reply: "Well, it worked, didn't it? Got you to damn well stop rebelling, didn't it?" my cousin was walking away from me, as she spoke.

At the lovely age of sixteen, my cousin decided to do what she always did. Drop the truth into my world because she was tired of lying. I had been having a rough time in high school and casually mentioned about how her love helped me through.

I was sitting in the breakfast room, but had moved into the kitchen to talk to my cousin face to face. I didn't want her doing an unannounced "walk out". My cousin had had enough of the facade. She leaned back against the counter next to the stove top and blew my entire world apart.

"Cybey" (I hate that "y" at the end of my name!) "I think its time you know the truth. I have never loved you. My mother dumped you into my lap. I mean, sure I didn't want you living with your father's sister - she's really insane. But love never entered into it. When you're eighteen we're done. No rides to school, nothing. You are going to have to fend for yourself, we're done." With this preachment she stalked out of the kitchen. I literally felt the floor slope to one side. Everything became blurry, almost milky and distorted. I felt really strange, like I didn't have a physical body anymore. I just kind of walked around in a total daze for a long time.

Being I desperately wanted her words NOT to be true, I eventually found the courage to ask her about all the past speeches. Oh, they were just drunk and lying. All very simple and expedient. A very large part of me died over this incident.

My school counselor didn't believe me, when I pleaded with her not to write my cousin about the stress they were putting me through about getting good grades. I was grounded for an entire year because my English grade slipped from an A plus to an A! By grounded, I mean I was only allowed to leave the house for school, no church, no socializing, and no telephone. The loneliness became so strong as to almost be palpable. I used to chant prayers for hours trying to get the pain down low enough to where I could handle it.

Against my best advice my school counselor wrote a letter to my cousin telling her that they were endangering my mental health to the extent of risking me being put into a state hospital. I desparately told my well intentioned counselor how such a letter would only get me into more trouble.

Upon receipt of this communication from my counselor, my cousin hit the ceiling. I was taking a bath. She burst into the bathroom waving the letter. She quickly read it to me. I braced myself for something to happen. She took out a red pen and corrected the letters grammar and style, berating my counselor with every correction. She then screamed at me awhile and nothing about my "grounding" changed. My counselor was shocked into silence when I told her the effect of her correspontence!

So I have a problem with people promising me things. I like to visit the dictionary when investigating concepts. Check out the forethought of betrayal. It isn't an "accident". My family never did anything without planning. They played a Ph.D. level game of "gotcha".

Dictionary (From Apple's Dictionary Program)
betray |biˈtrā| verb [ trans. ] be disloyal to : his friends were shocked when he betrayed them. • be disloyal to (one's country, organization, or ideology) by acting in the interests of an enemy : he could betray his country for the sake of communism. • treacherously inform an enemy of the existence or location of (a person or organization) : this group was betrayed by an informer. • treacherously reveal (secrets or information) : many of those employed by diplomats betrayed secrets and sold classified documents. • figurative reveal the presence of; be evidence of : she drew a deep breath that betrayed her indignation. DERIVATIVES betrayal |-əl| noun betrayer noun ORIGIN Middle English : from be- [thoroughly] + obsolete tray [betray,] from Old French trair, based on Latin tradere ‘hand over.’ Compare with traitor .

Thesaurus
betrayal noun betrayal in the workplace | the CIA leak was a serious act of betrayal disloyalty, treachery, bad faith, faithlessness, falseness, duplicity, deception, double-dealing; breach of faith, breach of trust, stab in the back; double-cross, sellout; literary perfidy. antonym loyalty.

treachery |ˈtre ch ərē| noun ( pl. -eries) betrayal of trust; deceptive action or nature : his resignation was perceived as an act of treachery | the treachery of language. ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French trecherie, from trechier ‘to cheat.’

duplicity |d(y)oōˈplisitē| noun 1 deceitfulness; double-dealing. 2 archaic doubleness. ORIGIN late Middle English : from Old French duplicite or late Latin duplicitas, from Latin duplic- ‘twofold’ (see duplex ).

Thesaurus
duplicity noun he got caught up in the duplicity of his crooked partners deceitfulness, deceit, deception, double-dealing, underhandedness, dishonesty, fraud, fraudulence, sharp practice, chicanery, trickery, subterfuge, skulduggery, treachery; informal crookedness, shadiness, dirty tricks, shenanigans, monkey business; literary perfidy. antonym honesty.
-------------

For the first time I can remember I "trusted" not only God, but the people around me. I am so deeply thankful for being given the grace by God to recover from a very shakey beginning.

Philosophy On Life.

I got this in an email this morning and feel it is worth your time and attention. Sadly, I do not know who the author is. Yes, I do get philosophical from time to time. - CG

GOOD COFFEE !! (Author: Unknown)

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got
together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon
turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests
coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot
of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal,
some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help
themselves to the coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: "If
you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving
behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the
best for yourselves, that is the source of your
problems and stress.

Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases
it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What
all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went
for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in
society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the
type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we
live.

Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee.

The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the
best of everything.

Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly. The future has a peculiar way of arriving unannounced.

Snopes.com: To Verify If That Hysterical Email Is Fact Or Fabrication.

Here is the link to snopes.com "content" page. This covers their philosophy and policies.

We all have friends who send us email when they learn of something they feel is noteworthy. As a Christian, I am called upon, from time to time, to get involved in petition-signing and / or a letter whiting campaigns. I've even re-published personal correspondence on this blog - after securing permission.

The first thing I look for in any correspondence is who wrote this AND who will receive my petition, or letter-sign-on. Two emails came to me recently which disturbed me enough to consider passing them on to a friend. A friend, who is too busy to have his time wasted via flim-flam.

I couldn't find an author / publication citation for a lovely story about 87-year-old Billy Graham leading a walk-through in New Orleans on his scooter. This was a thrilling account which would have gotten into some news story. The point of the email was that since NO PRESS reported this story, we need to get hot and bothered about poor and deliberately slanted press coverage.

No, it wasn't covered, because, although Billy Graham was in New Orleans, there was never the heroic walk-through with 25,000 people (after his crusade). These facts were verified by The Billy Graham Assoc.Thankfully, going to snopes.com and searching for "Billy Graham" brought up this story as the first entry. Once visiting the story's investigation page, I discovered the walk-through to be a fabrication. I was prevented from spreading falsehood and wasting my time, as well as the time of my friends.

The second hysterical email alerted me to the pending demise of all Christian Radio. Specifically, it would become illegal to broadcast any reading of the Bible over the public airwaves. Since I enjoy listening to Christian Radio, I got geared up to sign the email petition and forward it to everyone I thought might care enough to participate. I was also planning on reproducing the email on this blog, to further enlarge the scope of an effort to save Christian Radio.

Again, I went to snopes.com, searching the term "christian radio" Bingo! First story cited was this troubling petition. It is a really old hoax which has morphed into various forms, over the years. The FCC has tried in vain to clear itself of this insanity. When the Government needs a good hand slapping, I say: Let's Go! But, millions of letters, phone calls and emails have bombarded the FCC over a hoax! What a sad waste of people's trust and good name. I actually found myself feeling a bit sorry for the FCC being buried in this well-meaning, but misguided grass roots campaign.

I found snopes.com through a science site that was attempting to disprove some of the fluky "cure" claimo of the alternative medicinemovement. snopes.com appears to have no axe to grind. If its a real story, they guide you back to the original story and publication. If its fake, they document who they contacted and what they discovered.

I always look for the name of an author, or authoring organization. (ABC, BBC, or The San Francisco Chronicle, for example). If there's a citation, I go to the net and retrieve the original post. I then contact the author to get permission to re-publish on this blog.

I also check where my response email (and requested information) is GOING. Who gets my response? Usually you are to forward the correspondence to all your friends AND some other person or organization. If I don't see something, or someone who looks familiar, or is associated with the story. I don't reply.

Once the email is determined to be a probable hoax, I search for the story via the Internet, and the pro ported organization. When that turns up empty, I turn to snopes.com.

What's to stop someone from "pretending" to be from the BBC, etc.? Nothing, in the beginning. But, once the BBC is alerted to the evidence of someone writing things using their name without permission, lawyers become involved quickly. Why? The BBC can't afford to NOT be a credible news source. It doesn't take long for a hoax to travel around the world. I'm sure the BBC would take swift and decisive action against someone pretending to be one of their reporters, when they weren't on staff.

As the sign-off for a police podcast says: "Be careful out there".

My Work As A Housekeeper

Awhile back I put together a resume for a housekeeping job and discovered I've got over twenty years experience. Unfortunately, due to my several major disabilities I don't have a prayer of being hired, unless I'm already acquainted with the prospective employer. Now that I use a walker, it is easier to understand why my situation may give someone reason to pause. So, I get work word of mouth and all is well.

When I was younger and much cockier, I fell for the argument that I was too smart to do housework. It was beneath me. After some demolition of my pride, I realize that my low vision interferes the least with housework. I like cleaning things, especially when compared to cooking things. Hey, you make me dinner, I'll gladly do dishes and clean the kitchen!

One thing is crucial. Do things the way the homeowner wants, no matter how stupid you think their ideas are. I had one gal who insisted I wash down her tiled shower, weekly with Tilex. Tilex is strong enough to take layers of skin off one's hands. I knew this was asking for trouble. I went to the homeowner and said that she'd destroy the grout between the shower tiles using Tilex every week. She ignored me and I followed her instructions. About six weeks later one entire wall of tiles had fallen off the wall. She then decided to listen to me!

Tact is everything. I find it is best to follow given directions, and then, after a few months, I can suggest changes. Remember, before you came along, they cleaned their own house. You are not indispensable.

Because of my low vision I am flexible on wages. I prefer to get paid by the job and not by the hour. Since, I work slower, why should someone have to pay more for the same work because of my low vision? I find out what they paid the last person and start with that rate. My work speaks for itself and I've had the joy of bonuses and raises in recognition of the quality job I perform.

If you can't supervise yourself, this isn't the job for you. I prefer to work alone. I am used to having the house to myself for a weekend. It messes up my rhythm when people are around. Sweet Maria, is easy. She stays put while I work and doesn't hover over me. I can't stand the hovering supervisor who is afraid I don't know what I'm doing. There is money which is too painful to secure. Working for the hovering supervisor, or the person who insists on treating me like some kind of lower species, are two situations I walk away from.

I don't do elder-care, or any kind of medical care for people. Sometimes, when people say they want a housekeeper, what they truly want is an inexpensive nurse. I also don't work for actively out-of-control alcoholics. Very painful and traumatic experiences I won't EVER repeat.

It is better to clean a home once every week, then to have to do a full muck-out after several weeks. Dogs and cats are job security. Ah, yes! Shed, my darlings, shed! I've never met a dog yet who doesn't play a type of vacuum cleaner tag. I just know that whatever room I need to vacuum, Hanna will lie down somewhere on that particular rug. Cats love to "help" me make beds.

The cat accomplishes this feat by leaping under the sheet I'm attempting to put on said bed. I remove cat to the floor, but by the time I've returned to the sheet - WHOOMP! The cat's BACK! The only real solution is to place helpful cat outside the bedroom and close the door. The cat will then cry pitifully behind the closed door. I have to be strong, I tell you. I just have to be strong.

Staying over night in sweet Maria's house has several "situations" I must remember not to call the police about. There are two different kinds of trees which drop, or throw things at the house. The plums crash down on the roof, while the flowering bushes twirl their seedpods in a tight loop and then they let fly. It can sound like buck shot hitting the windows! I have nightmares of calling the local cops only to be told they can't arrest falling plums!

Since I take care of animals and or clean homes I get a variety of wonderful "perks". Gourmet coffee and expensive food treats of all kinds keep me coming back. I get to use the home computer, TV or piano, while keeping animals company. I have to get the cat inside by eight PM. She then cries at the kitchen door for about twenty minutes, to see if I'll relent and let her go outside once again. An electric blanket is a luscious experience. The cat drapes herself around my lower leg and we drift off to peaceful sleep, warm and toasty.

At around five-thirty in the morning, miss kitty is ready to get up and start a new day. I, however, am NOT a morning person. Swing shift was invented for me. So, I let the cat outside and crawl back into bed.

The part of housework I like the least is good old furniture dusting. Man, I don't see a change. Whereas, when I 'oil' the furniture, it looks absolutely stunning. I've learned to use a small raglet to get most of the oi on the furniture and not just on the rag. Forget about using wax-based products. Oil is really the way to go.

I have discovered a trick when using any product which boasts that you don't need to rinse it off the surface. THEY lie! I have seen floors change color after being cleaned with a floor cleaner and RINSED. Yes, its extra work, but when you hear the family rave about how you've transformed their home, the extra work is worth the effort.

A final note. Things get broken, misplaced and used up. Always tell the truth. Be ready to replace what you break. It happens to the most careful of us. Never attempt to lie to the home owner. I am continually amazed at the following situation. An acquaintance goes on in great detail about how they've stolen from their current employer. Then they hit me up for a job! Now, the number one problem with house cleaners, is a lot of them think the homeowner "won't miss it". When you go out of your way to establish truthfulness and openness with the homeowner, the rewards are amazing.

I'm not tempted over money, or most things. But, I've been tempted to eat something the wife is saving for the husband. I don't eat that home made banana bread, no matter how badly I want to. This trust is extremely important. If I'm supposed to stay over for a weekend for dog care and cleaning, I won't take my wages if I'm too sick to clean the house. I'm a greatly complimented when my abandoned wages are returned to me, even though most of the work didn't get done.

So, I complete a home, groom a pet and earn my pay. The house is clean and I'm a bit of a dusty, sweaty mess. There is nothing nicer, after wrapping up cleaning a house, then to jump into their shower to relax and refresh. Another fabulous perk I receive is the use of all that expensive bath stuff. Bubbles, fizzes and fragrant hair care products. I get all the joy of expensive property and pets with none of the headaches.

Recovery: Emotionally Thawing Out.

One of the real tragedies resulting from major child abuse is your total inability to relate to life around you. Oh, sure, you are alive, you "appear" to be living, but inside you can't be reached by anyone. You are locked in a prison of terror.

One of the true shocks of therapy was learning that for most people, there was a difference between an event viewed on TV, or at a movie and actually living an event. For me, TV was more real than my "real" life. (another one of those: "oops" moments, where I again scrambled to try and "construct" reality).

So, as I continue in this fascinating, but at times, very strange new world of mental health, I'm discovering my emotions in real time. I'm experiencing the emotional reactions of other people and animals in real time also. It is most interesting and totally new to me.

All of this growth springs from my ever decreasing fear level. I cannot emphasize too strongly how much my fear kept me locked in an emotional deep freeze. It used to be, I'd go to an event, feel nothing while actually at the event and only "experience" it as a memory. A memory, when it was safe to feel, later, when I was alone. This is severe isolation which can be difficult to explain to people.

While at an event, I'd attempt to "act" correctly. Since I was alone most of the time, I learned most of my social skills from TV. If you give me a gift, I'd "act" happy. If you were punishing me, I'd attempt to "act" like I cared enough not to act up again. I just would look for something I'd seen, or read somewhere to "show" the expected reaction. But, my emotional core was not there at all. Only when safely alone, would I be able to process what had happened.

However, I feel very deeply about people who are close to me and have a way of touching your emotions. I care deeply and can express it in written communication. People would give me feedback like: "This is the kind of card that is very emotional and makes me uncomfortable." To which I'd draw a complete blank. I had no idea what my friends were talking about. To me, it was all like a big math equation. I do behavior A and (according to TV), you'll react with emotion X. You express emotion Y to me and I'm expected (according to a novel), to react with emotion Z in response. I always felt like I wasn't quite all there. I totally related to the Simon and Garfunkel song, Fak'in It. Hell, that WAS how I managed my world. It was all a gigantic theory, I felt like i was working without a net..

But of late, sweet Marie has managed to get past my old defenses and actually touch my emotions. Sometimes when I'm giving her a scalp massage I can truly feel her reaction. I sense emotions as physical things. If you could see them, it would be like little puffs of energy coming off of the person reacting. This little cloud of reaction drifts towards me, I feel it and it goes away. I first noticed this with Hannah, the dog.

I was giving her a tummy rub and I suddenly became aware of a swarm of reaction coming from the dog to me. It was like a swarm of little puffs of feeling coming from the dog to me. She was very happy. It made me joyful to interact like that. It was all new to me. I also wondered if I was having some kind of altered state due to a possible medication problem. I do not always feel emotions, but I believe when they are particularly strong, is when I tend to sense they are there.

The next time I experienced the emotional reaction was from sweet Maria. She had fallen into a light sleep as I massaged her scalp. I was happy to be there and I again noticed emotions. Same general reaction, but she felt different from the emotions of Hannah, the dog. Bigger bits of feeling in each Little emotional puff. It was really quite pleasant to experience this.

But, I hadn't noticed any changes on my side of the emotional equation. Then Maria and I began sharing more Girlie Days with lunch. It has been established that I absolutely adore garlic buttered, french bread. So, Maria has taken to buying me one or two loaves of this bread, when I come to dog sit. It really stirred something way down deep inside me. But, I'm not afraid of Maria, so I wasn't afraid to accept her demonstration of affection.

Then came Christmas. Maria, my dear, you really got to me. Now I know what it is like to feel emotionally vulnerable and uncomfortable. I had so much joy, I almost cried. Since I'm saving money for both a new computer and a Boston vacation, I assumed my "Christmas" present of $100 would automatically go into my savings account.

I have no problem with this arrangement. Maria, however, explicitly stated that she wanted me to have at least part of that money to do something as a gift from her. She guessed I'd want to go to the Marriott for dinner. Tears welled up in my eyes. I have truly come to terms with giving up some of my normal "fun" activities now, for the money I have to save for later. I was completely moved by her love. It would be a real treat to go to the Marriott for a real dinner - about $50. Something I'd figured I'd not do again until mid October.

The last time I dog sat for Maria, I discovered a loaf of my beloved french bread in the Refrigerator, which she'd just put there for me to find. Again, I was moved to tears. It is wonderful to be able to react to life in real time, instead of "experiencing" it via a memory, later.

Now, that I'm getting weepy over things loved ones say and do, I understand that expression of discomfort. I'd feel really silly getting all drippy in front of Maria. But, I get the sense, it is meaningful to her. I love to watch others do "joy", so why should I be surprised if people like me doing "joy" with them also?

I did indeed go to the Marriott for dinner. It was a much richer experience then when I'm spending my own money for the adventure. I kept remembering how Maria insisted I DO something for Christmas. It was almost like I was having love for dinner.

It was a beautiful, totally new, encounter with a part of life I'm just becoming aware of. I am so grateful to finally be learning not to be afraid all the time. This is all so new to me. I want to continue documenting recovery as I'm discovering it. Guys, it is really worth the struggle to find mental health. Took me almost twenty years from when I first made a commitment to getting well in therapy to my experiences today. But, this emotions stuff is really nurturing. It is almost like another level of physical touch. Good bye emotional isolation and hello mental health!

Meet Hannah and Sugar-Bear: Two Wonderful Newfoundland Hounds.

Finally, I have some pictures of my beloved dogs to share. CyberGal had a senior moment, running off to my week long dog sitting job without checking to make sure I had fresh batteries in my digital camera. (Oh, yeah, as though you'd never done that, HA!) So, thanks to computers and the Internet, this first shot is of Hanna this Christmas.Yes she is a BIG girl.

Hannah is a Newfy mix. We don't know with what, but she has much longer legs than the usual Newf. She can easily drink coffee right out of my mug (when I'm dumb enough to leave the mug near the edge of the breakfast table.) Didn't seem to affect her. Only, now she barks with a Columbian accent.

Hannah is a slightly confused 120 pound lap dog want-to-be. When she was a puppy, she was allowed into someone's lap and she still tries to capture those heavenly days, but she is so big and tall, she can straddle your lap. She attempts to "cuddle" by leaning her weight in on the seated human she has come to visit.

Dog and cat sitting is a wonderful job for those of us who love animals. The only bad thing about the job, is, once the animal associates my appearance with the exiting of "their" people, they become unhappy and moody. Hannah gets the sulks. I'll pet her and she'll refuse to pick up her head, or move in any way. Unlike Sugar-Bear, who refused to eat or drink for at least twenty-four hours, Hannah recovers very quickly.

It is always best to meet with the animal I will be sitting before the owners go away. This step was omitted on my first official dog sitting job with an extremely high strung Dalmatian. This poor creature cowered under a coffee table, drooling, whimpering and trembling for our first three days together. It really tore my heart out. So, I now have a hard and fast rule about meeting the pet in the presence of their owners in their home.


This beautiful photo above is of Sugar-Bear, who died a few years ago. This photo was an international contest winner, featured in a magazine about Newfoundland Hounds. Sugar-Bear was built like a pure Newf. She had shorter legs and a bit thicker build. She was extremely laid back and NOTHING bothered her. Well, except when I'd show up and John and Maria would disappear for a week, or weekend. THAT bothered her.

I have many sweet memories of my charges. Sugar-Bear would always show her affection for me by licking my ears. I'd be sitting on the floor, petting, or brushing her and we'd drift into this lovely petting, licking and laughing good time. Sugar-Bear, like every other dog I've known loved to be brushed. She'd routinely fall asleep while I'd brush her lush, soft inch-long fur. Hannah, on the other hand would rather do ANYTHING other then be groomed. I mean, she HATES it. But with long hair, one must be groomed. She's the only dog I've ever worked with who has managed to make me feel guilty when I bring out the dreaded brush. She lowers her head in resignation and then tries to high tail it out of the room. But I grab that collar and enforce my will upon her. She then lies down with a pointed sigh. Sheesh!

I will continue about my beloved dogs and cats in another post. Off to bed now, and dog sitting for the weekend.