G R O W. H E A L. REJOICE.
I’m pretty excited in my life right now. You’d think I won the lottery with all the fun I’ve been having lately, but no, rather, I broke my foot just over a week ago and won’t be able to return to work (as an Addiction Counselor) for the next 2 months.
The break on my left foot, in the left metatarsal, is completely severed in two:
The Orthopedist told me that it’ll take several months to heal, and that it’s going to “suck” for a long time.
Per the usual, “sucking” is truly a matter of perspective. One man’s suck is another man ‘s paradise, and I choose the latter to revel in.
I have crutches and a cast shoe I’m supposed to wear, but the majority of the time, I do just fine with strategic foot placement when walking (hobbling). I can’t stand fully on my foot with it flat on the ground, yet- I have to keep the left side (surrounding the severed bone) uplifted from the ground, forcing the bulk of my weight onto my heel. It took some getting used to but I’m like Speedy Gonzalez now, zipping around the house and yard- cleaning, cooking, gardening, shopping, and everything else I want to do.
I’ve spent the past week scrubbing the house down (including washing all of the windows)- doing some major deep cleaning…gave the cat and my two dogs a bath last night- had my own shower, made a fine supper, and then took the dogs for a 1/2 mile walk around the neighborhood- yes, with my broken foot!
You won’t see any grass growing under these feet.
I enjoy staying active throughout most days. Today, however, was my day of rest, so I stretched out on my chaise lounge with my remote and immediately fell asleep. (So much for catching a show.)
I absolutely love my new house. It’s my sanctuary. I get a ton of sunlight through my living room and sitting area windows, and in the evenings, I light candles and make tea and listen to the hundreds of bullfrogs all singing in a beautiful chorus; I’ve never been happier in life than I am right now.
I think a big part of that is my betrothal to Jesus. I’ve recently renewed my vows of love with Him; choosing to love Him above all other people in the world- including my own parents/children/ friends- there’s nobody who can compare to Him and His love.
I take my burdens, pains, sorrows, and broken heart to Him in prayer twice per day- once in the morning and again in the evening- to my prayer closet, where I go in to Him and shut the door, and am alone with my Creator- my best friend- the lover of my soul.
Jesus says, in Matthew 11:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
As humans, we tend to carry a lot of emotional and spiritual baggage within us; especially those of us who’ve experienced a lot of trauma in life, such as myself. It can be difficult to adjust our internal filters accurately, due to the damage we’ve suffered.
It’s no different than trying to fill a ziplock bag with water which has 25 jagged holes in the bag. Until the bag is repaired, there’s simply no way it’s going to hold water.
Every person has his and her own set of unique filters in life. Two people can witness the same event but tell two completely different stories- not rooted in *fact*, but based on their personal anecdotal, theoretical, and empirical life experiences.
We paint the canvas the colours based on our own unique experiences- sifting information through our own filters.
When our filters are skewed and damaged as children, we grow up seeing through those lenses. And, truth be told, we all suffer trauma in life. Nobody gets out of that one.
The question is, are we going to learn and grow and heal and share from our wreckage, or are we simply going to become part of the broken furniture, perpetually injured and damaged, sucking up the light from those around us like an eternal abyss?
Love is a choice.
Hate is s choice.
Pain is a choice.
Anger is a choice.
Forgiveness is a choice.
Unforgiveness is a choice.
Healing is a choice.
Bitterness is a choice.
Happiness is a choice.
I thank God, for freeing me from the shackles of hatred and unforgiveness toward others.
I know people, personally, who claim to be Christians- go to Church faithfully- read the Bible, pray- do all of the “righteous” things Christians are supposed to do, but their hearts are full of hatred against someone they refuse to forgive, or love.
Like Jesus said, “Their outsides are whited sepulchures, but their insides are full of dead men’s bones.”
They can iron clothes, get their kids ready, feed their family, go to church, put on a “good Christian show” in front of the entire congregation, thinking they’re a hop, skip, and a jump away from Heaven itself- but the Bible says their entire religion is a lie if they say they love God but hate their brother or sister in Christ.
Sadly, I share blood with some of these hypocrites, and don’t even get me started on their utter hypocrisy.
They’re gonna get a sad wakeup call down the road, when they try to storm Heaven, but are forbidden entrance, all because they chose hate over love..unforgiveness over forgiveness. Revenge over compassion. Giving the cold shoulder rather than a warm heart. Withholding charity rather then giving freely from their hearts.
They done gat me preachin’ up in hih!
But back to Jesus. He says, my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
The yoke He speaks of is no different than the yoke around the neck of cattle. His yoke- his instrument of corralling us into his barns, where there is (spiritual) safety, shelter, food and water- is easy, and His burden is light! Not our own. It is us, as humans, who collect heavy burdens throughout life and drag them around, from one person to the next, and then we wonder why we feel dead inside, and why we’re not experiencing joyful relationships that bear fruit.
It is because we’re shackled by our own yoke- a yoke of our own making, with combinations of blame, resentment, envy, strife, hatred and murder that are locking it in place, around our spiritual necks. But what do some do? They blame other people for that yoke that they made themselves. It’s everybody else’s fault, but never their own. In reality, it is their very mouths who’ve dug pits for their enemies that have slaughtered them. The more they vomit out their hate campaigns to one another, the tighter the noose grows around their own necks.
“Thou art snared by the words of thy mouth, thou art taken by the words of thy mouth.” -Proverbs
But Jesus’ yoke is easy.
And His burden is light.
People completely miss the simplicity of this Scripture!
We’re too caught up trying to free our own yokes from our necks that we fail to understand that we’ve got the wrong yoke on to begin with!
We’re supposed to be wearing Jesus’ yoke.
And we’re too used to carrying around our decades-long, dusty old crumbling burdens that we refuse to acknowledge the truth of this part of the Scripture- where Jesus says- MY burden is light.
We have no business (as Christians) to be dragging our decrepit old ancient burdens around in our lives, and God forbid someone should ask us how we’re doing.
“Oh, you know…I’m hanging in there…” (exhales a heavy sigh)
Wow. What a testimony of Jesus’ healing power.
I love the Scripture that states, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”
There are so many times in the Bible where Jesus tells His disciples- and others- to REJOICE. That’s not a request, but a commandment.
“Rejoice when men shall revile you and say all manner of evil against you for my sake! For great is your reward in Heaven,” He says.
If we’re supposed to rejoice when we’re being persecuted by people- including other Christians- when they’re gnashing on us with their bloody teeth, how much more should we be rejoicing on any given day, no matter how things are going?
These are the principles I live by.
I don’t throw things up here on my blog that I haven’t birthed repeatedly- year in, year out.
This is the secret to my joy.
Notice I didn’t say my happiness.
Happiness is fleeting. It’s emotion-based. It sails in like a balloon, filling the heart, then floats out again, leaving its imprint, echoed by sadness once it’s departed.
But joy!
Joy comes from the Lord. Joy = unadulterated, never-ending happiness.
We don’t have to wait until we get to Heaven (in my case, The New City, mentioned in Revelation) to experience ever-lasting joy!
When I go before the Lord every morning (and again, every evening), on my knees in my secret place– my prayer closet- I shut my door, fall on my face, and give God, and Jesus, what they deserve, which is my praise.
Ru-Ak means “breath”, or “spirit”. It is the very least I can do, as a Christian and follower of Jesus Christ, to offer Him my breath- the very breath He breathed into me to give me life.
My special time in that secret place with the Lord is all about 2 specific things:
1.) Praise
2.) Gratitude
Without gratitude, you’re a dead duck in the water. Gratitude is woven throughout every fiber of my being.
There’s literally nothing I cannot be grateful for. I’ve experienced more hardships than most people will ever have to experience, and can honestly say, I’m grateful for every one. (You can read my BIO tab (at the top of my blog) for more information on that.)
I learned long ago that it doesn’t matter which side of God’s scales we’re on- whether it be the pain side, or the pleasure side- we owe Him our praise and gratitude, regardless. It took years of tragedy, trauma, and gut/wrenching pain for me to realize that no matter my experiences- God is still on the Throne, He’s still God, and He’s still just.
Does the sun not still shine though it’s dark and stormy? Does the sun cease to shine though it’s dark and night?
Just because we don’t see the sun shining during those times doesn’t mean it’s not still there, shining brightly.
So is God.
When I hit my knees to the ground in prayer, I thank Him for everything, including painful experiences. For it’s through the pain that we develop our strong roots. The sunshine is great, it feeds the leafy bits, but it’s the dark, cool soil and the immense pressure therein that cracks the seed’s hull open. And only then does new life begin, as the roots make their way down into the deep, dark earth, so are the prayers and the heart that pours out the pain to the Lord, covered by gratitude for the situation- no matter what I’m going through or experiencing.
The deeper the roots submerge, the richer the water! So is prayer, when the heart pours out its complaints, sorrows, burdens, and troubles before the Lord, offering up gratitude for the pain that we don’t always understand, but trusting that the Lord has already prepared our escape plan- our exit strategy- from the painful situation.
This is truly my secret to remaining joyful in every situation.
The Lord takes the pain- surrounded in gratitude- and draws it into His bosom, converting it into joy, then sends it back down through our conduit of praise.
It’s a transaction. A spiritual transaction.
Pain for joy.
Beauty for Ashes.
The pain is temporary, but the joy is never-ending.
**********************************
I started growing a lemon tree today!
I planted some lemon seeds in a silver pail, using organic (indoor) potting soil, along with some basil, and tomatoes. I’ve never tried to grow anything in my life, but I find it cathartic and relaxing to commune with nature, and to have a relationship with plants.
I can’t wait to see my first sprouts!
I love the time it takes for things to grow. For example, a lemon tree doesn’t produce fruit for its first 5-7 years. It’s a waiting game and it’ll certainly work some patience into ya.
I’m having the time of my life right now. 🤗
I’m accomplishing far more with a broken foot than I ever did without one!
I meditate on these two specific Scriptures throughout the day, when I’m working:
“In all labour there is profit, but the talk of the lips tendeth only to penury.” – Proverbs
And:
“I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.” – Ephesians
As well as:
“I have an unction from the Holy One, and know all things.”
– Unction means anointing. That was one of my Dad’s favourite Scripture’s that he shared with me.
Time for my beloved Wildflower tea with raw honey!
The frogs are singing their nightly song; I can hear them through my windows. Another wonderful day yawns and prepares to sleep…
…and dream.
Oh Death, Where is thy Sting?
My heart is shattered in a million pieces. I took a break from my blog because it started to seem like I was swimming in sorrow. I couldn’t catch a break from the heartache. I was waiting until something good or positive happened to write about, but the hard days just kept rolling in- like a bad sea.
You’d think six months have been long enough for the tide to turn, alas, it’s not in the cards. Since mid to late last year, my brother, John’s, cancer has grown progressively worse. He’s had cancer for almost the past decade, but only Josh and I knew. About 8 years ago, he lifted his shirt sleeve and showed me a round pit in the meat of his forearm. He could fit his entire thumb into the recess. I gasped and stated that he needed to get to the doctor ASAP. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a doctor-visiting kind of guy. He had no health insurance also, for the longest time. (Many years.) He confided in me that he had cancer (without having been formerly diagnosed) and I knew that he was right. He was always thin, but over these past few years he’d grown progressively thinner.
This past summer, he began having chronic pain in some of his organs and mistakenly thought it was his back, so he went to a chiropractor for treatment. Naturally, the treatment was unsuccessful. John was my best friend in the whole world. We were each other’s skin. I was his sister and his mother too. He was my everything. 😦
When he and I were kids, we made up two imaginary people called Mr. Zic and Mr. Zac. I have no idea why, but we would discuss them in full detail while jumping on our beds upstairs in our large home on Cherry Street. That kid followed me everywhere! Because our older siblings had their own friend groups, John and I were often left up to our own devices for entertainment. We were a mischievous duo! We’d both sit on the seat of a 10 speed bicycle, with the kickstand keeping us upright, and when we counted to three, I’d kick the kickstand out from under us and we’d fall over with a loud crash and we’d just laugh and laugh. We thought it was the funniest thing.
He idolized me. (And told me that probably hundreds of times over the years. He told me I was his hero. I had taught him how to play the guitar and piano as well as taught him how to sing. He had no vibrato and it used to drive him bananas because he couldn’t vibrate his voice when he sang! I gave him singing lessons for a few years, off and on, and he became quite the singer. 🙂
I taught him how to draw, and shade his shadows and textures in with the pencil. he and I were virtually inseparable for our entire lives. I helped him get Medicaid (health insurance) last year as well as fought so he could receive SSI-Disability. I had just gotten him all set up with various organizations and he was only 3 weeks away from receiving his first disability check (he was set to receive $1,390 per month) when he grew worse than he’d ever been before.
On our last phone conversation, he had thanked me for helping him fight for his benefits, and he stated that he was basically retired, seeing how he’d be receiving financial support. he said, “I just need to keep myself alive and I’m basically retired!” He was so excited to have all of the stress and worry off of him. I was so happy for him too. It was rough sailing sometimes and it had been a very stressful 6 weeks, but I was so glad to be able to help him get set up with everything.
Our older siblings called John and I “The Little Ones”, and it was a title we relished and accepted with pride. It meant that we were in our own “secret club”, as we used to say, and nobody else was allowed in. Even as adults, we cherished one another with a special kind of love- rare even for siblings. That man owned my heart and he knew it. We told each other we loved each other every time we talked. He was the apple of my eye…my baby brother.
My sweet, precious brother- my best friend in the whole world- passed on to the Other Side six days ago. Late Tuesday evening, on January 15th. I feel like I’ve been walking through a heavy mist since then. It’s all been so surreal. Nobody will ever take his place in my heart. I’ll always have a place that will never be filled with anything or anyone else. I’m going to miss harmonizing with him while singing “Seven Bridges Row”. It was “our thing”, as he finger-picked away on the acoustic guitar. We played Starrider (by Foreigner) at his Funeral/Home-Going, as was his request (per his son’s attestation).
I know he’s not suffering any more, and therein lies my comfort. He is with the Lord and our Dad, and my older sister, Cynthia, up in Heaven. I know he’s basking in Jesus’ Love and no longer walking in the Garden alone. And he’s saving me a seat. ❤
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
-I Corinthians 15: 55
I had done everything I could to secure Life Insurance for my brother, to make sure his debts were paid and his children (and Mother) would be looked after when he was gone. Unfortunately, it fell through at the 11th hour and we discovered that his policy was useless: It broke my heart. I really do feel like he may have died an accidental death. He had had some complications shortly before he passed away, however, he seemed to be responding well to the chemo for a good bit there. Also, he had dropped 30 lbs. pretty quickly and looked like a virtual skeleton. There was literally no meat on his bones and his skin clung tightly to his ribs bones and clavicle. However, despite his state at the time, he’d been given a prognosis of at least another 1 to 2 years (of time left) with the help of chemo.
He was given two separate Fentanyl pain patches: One for 100 mcgms prhr (100 micrograms per hour) and 25 mcgms prhr (so, 125 mcgms prhr- total) + he still took Oxycontin in pill form for breakthrough pain. If he weighed enough to withstand that amount of pain medication, that would be one thing. But I don’t think he had enough weight/volume/mass to hold up to the powerful drugs he was given. I truly believe he was over-medicated and the hospital and doctors will chalk it up to cancer (only). I’m still in school and i’m still working on my Master’s degree: In another year, I’ll graduate with my Master’ in Psychology and Addiction Counseling. It’s been a long road, but I’m well-educated in drug-speak, particularly pain meds. and the like, given today’s drug climate and the rate of overdoses in the united States. In other words, cancer patients are used to taking high doses of pain meds, understandably. And for the most part, that works well for them.
However, when their bodies are too frail and thin to withstand those high levels of pain medication (via a transdermal patch applied directly to their skin- lasting for 72 hours at a time), it is so easy to accidentally overdose. Due to their medical condition and diagnosis, no one bats an eye and it’s written off as “natural causes”, but in cases of overdose, it’s not a natural cause at all, but accidental death due to either overdose or adverse reaction (which are two different things altogether). Also, he had just been given a feeding tube a few weeks before he passed away and he seemed to be responding well; he’d told me that he’d gained 5 lbs.
He had had some trouble with acid reflux and his fluids becoming problematic somewhat, but the physicians were able to remedy the situation. He seemed to be doing a bit better when virtually overnight, he developed a hoarse voice very quickly. He was gone several days later. The hoarse voice is another reason I think he may have been over-medicated. When an individual overdoses on opiates, they develop a hoarse voice. That’s one of the indicators of an overdose, as is constipation, nausea (and vomiting), all of which he exhibited in those last few days. All of it- when factored together- looks very much like a possible overdose via accidental over-medication. it happens more than people know. He would not have lasted a great deal longer regardless, but we all felt like he had at least 6 more months left, easily. My niece put it so lovingly when he did finally depart, “He slipped away in the night to be with the Lord.”
I’ve taken it upon myself to start a fundraiser/Gofundme Campaign to try and raise $10,000 for my brother’s burial/funeral costs. My family and I are not affluent and without donations, we have no idea how we will secure burial money for him. If you’re reading this and would like to contribute to my brother’s funeral costs, please do follow the link below and you can make a donation. I can’t thank you enough, and for those of you reading who may have already given something, thank you SO much- it means so much to my family and me.
John’s Gofundme: CLICK HERE ❤
Thanks again, and God bless. ❤
Charity x 3
Today has been a pretty wild day. I’m still perturbed that Allstate wanted to give me a measly $2,100 for pretty much wrecking my life- temporarily. My conversation with the rep went something like this,
“Mrs. Lindsey, we’re able to offer you $1,700,” said the rep.
“Did you say one, or ten?”
[Rep snickers lightly]
“ONE.”
“Are you serious? Considering that I had to drop two of my classes last semester- with a doctor’s note excusing me from those two classes, had to repair my GPA-”
“Well Mrs. Lindsey, you didn’t actually have something from your doctor saying that the car accident caused you to have to drop out of school,” he said.
“Um, [rep’s name omitted for confidentiality’s sake], the doctor wrote the statement on a prescription pad. It clearly said MVA (motor vehicle accident) along with the names of the two classes right on there. Any lawyer or jury would absolutely agree that that’s legit.”
“Yeah but, we feel that it wasn’t actually the accident that made you have to quit school,” he said.
“Ok,” said I. “First of all, I didn’t ‘quit school’. I simply dropped out of my two most demanding classes due to the pain and stress caused by your client splitting my bumper. Secondly, I haven’t had to drop a class in years. Not even when my house was flooded and cracked in half a year and a half ago and my kids and I were put up in a hotel by the Red Cross. We had nowhere to go, and I had to ask my art friends in Australia for help. They pulled together $650 in an hour and a half, and we were in an apartment days later- and [rep’s name]…I was carrying four classes during that time and STILL didn’t drop any classes.” [And for the record, made all A’s and B’s.]
“Well…Mrs. Lindsey….” [insert more BS here]
I was able to talk him up to $2,100, and what a disgrace. As mentioned before, and somewhere else- you are NOT in good hands with ALLSTATE. No siree….
To the rep’s credit, he expedited things to the best of his ability and Fed Exed the check. I thought long and hard about settling for pennies practically, but, I was able to give my friend Jean (the homeless woman currently residing in an abandoned train car) $100 cash todayand a new cell phone with 750 minutes + text and internet. That in itself made it worth it to me.
I wanted to get my guitar out of the pawn shop and when I got there, I was told that I was a few days too late. The (very cool) guy behind the counter saw my disappointment and told me that he would see what he could do for me. He certainly did. He clicked around on the computer and said that it was still in the backroom, but he wasn’t able to return it. Nevertheless, he checked with his supervisor and was able, by the skin of his teeth, to pull some strings for me. (Um, no pun intended.)
A few minutes later, he came out with my beautiful, green Oscar Schmidt- acoustic electric:
I twisted up a $20 and handed it to the (cool) counter guy.
“Man, you didn’t have to do that. Here,” I said.
“I can’t take that,” he said, making funny faces in the direction of his boss.
I shoved it under the massive day planner on the counter and said, “The world would be a better place if there were more people like you. Here. Take it.”
And smiled and walked out.
I wasted no time in giving the guitar to Josh as a gift. ♥
I also gave each of my kids $50 for some spending money. We were in a grocery store parking lot and saw a man asking for change. Naturally, he hit me up.
“Hey, weren’t you at the Haven house?” I asked, shaking his hand.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, returning the smile.
I dug through my purse and gave him the equivalency of $3.00. I can’t help thinking that he was going to go straight to the liquor store and I really didn’t care. It’s a tough world out there.
“I think I’m gonna call that guy Liquor Store Lawrence,” my son said. I have a lively bunch. 🙂 It was several hours later when we were in Louisville, Ky. (minutes from the Kentucky Derby), and we saw a man on the street who was muttering to himself. He was fairly young with tattered clothes and a shabby toboggan. My daughter saw him looking through garbage cans. It made us all very sad.
“I think I’m going to give that guy some money,” Brianna said.
And moments later, while sitting at a red light in a congested intersection, she bolted from the back seat and sprinted across the street, shoving her $50 into his hand.
“Did you give him your $20?” I asked.
“No, I gave him 50,” she said softly.
“Are you serious, Sissy?!” I asked, not so softly.
“Dude, that’s probably the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen you do,” my son said to her.
I was completely stunned. She became my hero, immediately. To top things off, she was wearing this:
A beautiful kimono looking lingerie gown, with sneakers. 🙂
Not that we were out looking for homeless people today, but homelessness is rampant in this area. I ponder on this Scripture: Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. (Proverbs 3:27)
We popped into the Greyhound bus station so I could use the ladies room. I couldn’t resist the lighting:
SP/ 50 MM 1.8 II/manual exposure/manual focus
I also couldn’t resist snapping these guys on the way out:
50 MM/manual focus/manual exposure
You have to be sneaky to snap pics of people without them knowing it (all while focusing the lens- I can’t stand autofocus and consider it taboo). Something tells me the guy on the right knew I was taking his pic…
It just kept getting weirder as the day drew on. The wind blew fiercely and we found ourselves facing this:
We took a detour and ended up here:
Not only can pigs fly, but pigs fly high. Literally. Look at its bloodshot eyes…
I was able to shoot a rare pic of my son outside of a music store. He dyed his hair blue today, although you can’t see it here:
I never in a million years thought I would be cool with my kid dying his hair blue. I guess I’m mellowing out as I’m growing older.
That’s not altogether a bad thing…
Charity
I’m not going to post a tab here, so that I can collect donations for myself. Although I would have good reason; since the recession, I spend much of my time scrimping and scrapping, much like many other people I know. But I’m quick to remind myself that there are lots of people who are worse off than me.
My heart is close to the homeless, particularly those in my town. Southern Indiana is chocked full of homeless people living under bridges. Many have lost hope completely; others, simply don’t know how to change their circumstances. I’m a former resident of the Haven House, which is the homeless shelter in my town.
Because of the discipline and structure that I gleaned from staying there, I was able to carry those valuable tools with me throughout my life. While I was in a housing program, known as, Transitional Housing, I was able to write my children’s book, “Peanut Butter Soup“, to inspire kids to reach for something greater in their lives, as well as having the opportunities to reach them in the areas of anti-bullying, being kind to the obese, the elderly, and impressing them to respecting all people of different races, creeds, and religions.
I’ve never let my limitations or titles placed upon me by others to define me, or hold me back in life. I want to do what I can for my community, and really change the system, because it is obvious that the current one is not working.
But I’m only one woman, and as much as I’d like to do, I simply cannot do alone. I’ve been able to accomplish quite a bit without a penny in my pocket: I simply do not give up. But, that said, monetary donations and contributions are crucial where the reconstruction and rebuilding of others’ lives are concerned, particularly those who are homeless.
For these reasons, I am posting the website address to the homeless shelter in my town, the Haven House. This particular shelter is very close to my heart, as are the residents. Many of the residents are caught in the vicious cycle of ongoing, perpetuated tragedies. If we can bring more money into the program, we can develop better programs that will not only help the residents there, but give them the life skills they need to succeed in life.
There is a Donate to Paypal tab located at the site. Any and all contributions are distributed directly to Haven House Organization, so that the funds can be allocated as needed.
Thank you so much your your care in this matter, and thank you in advance if you would like to contribute. Every penny makes a difference. I’ll be posting a tab at the top of the page here, so that it acts as a permalink, and will remain there.
♥
Helping the Homeless
Tonight, J & I went on another brandy walk. Now, before you go and start thinking that I have an alcohol dependency, consider that in days past, I would kick back a fifth of whiskey with the girls and end up on the other side of Indianapolis with a raging hangover, wondering how I got there.
I’ve scaled back to the reward of 1 shot per quarter mile. That’s right. Much like a horse and carrots, I’m rewarded with brandy. Do the work- you get a shot! I’ve found that this actually works where walking in the frigid cold is concerned. Rather than thinking you deserve a few shots “just because”, it’s much more gratuitous and effective if you actually “do something” first, then give yourself a shot. After a while, you become trained that “doing the work” gets you the “reward”. And it’s not a bad reward if you don’t exceed 5 shots or so. More than 5 on a regular basis and you’re setting yourself up for dependency.
I received a letter today from a head official in my community:
Tuesday at 9:30 a.m. there is a meeting on homelessness in the Mayor’s office, can you come? It is going to be interesting and the truth about homelessness in this community needs to be told. Feel free, I will be there and I would love for you to come. It is in the Quadrangle in City Hall. Let me know if you are coming. We are revamping and want to use all the pictures, is that ok? The design will basically remain the same but stats, twitter, etc. will be added. Hope you all are doing well. Take care. [Name omitted for confidentiality purposes]
This is great news and I’ll tell you why.
I’m an x-resident in that particular homeless shelter. I was there 13 different times in my life. I saw and mentally recorded numerous accounts of people “using the system” for their benefit, not only that, many people using their food stamps for currency, trading “up” on drugs for 1/2 on the dollar. Meaning, if a quarter bag is $60, they would buy it for $120 of food stamps. I saw this over and over again.
You will never know the inner workings of a systems unless you get down in the gutter with the people and get your hands dirty. I do know what I’m talking about because I was there, with the people, for many years. The difference between me and many homeless people is that I’m passionate about “change”. If you don’t grab the reigns of life and believe you can make a difference, you never will.
And we all have the capability and strength to make a difference- some of us haven’t been taught that yet.
So, I’m pretty stoked that I’ll be joining one of the top dogs of the city for a meeting with the mayor discussing the homeless and change. The “higher ups” have the master’s degrees and know the ins and outs of diplomatic exchange, but I’m from the street, and I have a double masters in life. I’m able to share with them some things that their degrees will never teach them. And what an honour! I want to do what I can to make a difference in my city.
I built a website for my community:
http://www.havenhouseservices.org/
I took all of the pictures, I did all of the write-ups, I built it from scratch. For the past few years, I’ve paid the annual fees to host it- it isn’t much, but I feel good knowing that I’m doing something for my community. If you are reading this, and feel like you can make a donation, however small, to the website above, there’s a donation tab inside the link there and believe me when I say, every penny counts.
xo
m o n o c h r o m e j u n k i e † 