You Just Never Know

We interact with people everyday - at the grocery store, school, work and so on.  We exchange "hellos" and smile, ask how each other is doing and go about our business.  For the most part we have no idea what is going on in a person's life. Usually there is a reason someone is tired or not smiling and it may not be as simple as we think it is.   We don't know if they are suffering from depression, bi-polar or anxiety.  We don't know if they lost a child or a spouse to an accident or a devastating disease.  They may have lost their house or fishing boat due to lack of money, have lost their job or can't work anymore due to physical pain but they don't qualify for disability or unemployment.  They may be overwhelmed with bills they can't pay, lacking a roof over their head or dealing with being hit and screamed at everyday until they feel like the piece of shit they are told they are.  Some folks know they need to make life changes, sell their house, lobster boat, car - but noone is buying and this is not an immediate fix when there isn't any food in the house or cmp is calling again to shut off the power.  These stories are part of my daily job.  I try to connect folks with resources, advocate for them, do what I can.  While there are lots of positive stories and glimmers of hope, often times there are not quick fixes or any way to fix it at all.  These are the stories that bring me down, make me lose faith in humanity and leave me feeling sad, wondering what the hell our society is doing.  I truly believe most people don't understand what others actually go through on a daily basis.

  The once vibrant Mom is worn down after losing her job to a company that downsized and the only work she can find is at $8.50/hr - her teenagers are not getting Christmas presents this year because she had to buy oil.  There isn't any child support because Dad is unemployed, depressed and turned to drugs, readily available anywhere he goes, he does not have a drivers license because he hasn't paid his child support and his truck has broken down so even if he did have his license he couldn't drive anyway.

 Then there's the 90 yr old woman still living on her own without any family to help.  Social security "forgot" to review her for 15 yrs and has now set a deadline for her to show proof of income from VA, a small feat to some but a giant leap for her in this day and age of "press one now" and sitting on hold for 30 minutes to speak to a human being.  If she doesn't get her paperwork in by the deadline she was given her income stops.

The family living in a rundown mobile home (that should be condemned) that doesn't hold heat so the LIHEAP money they get every winter goes right out the roof - which has lots of tarps on it but still leaks everytime it rains, filling the light fixtures with water.  Snakes have infested the ceiling, hanging over the bed of Mom and Dad everynight 'causing Mom's anxiety to skyrocket, preventing her from sleeping which adds to her depression so just getting out of bed every morning is a chore.  Noone will touch the house, every agency state and nationwide has been contacted including the mobile home replacement program.  They qualified for it in every aspect except the year of the trailer - has to be pre 1976 and theirs isn't.  They still owe money on the land so they can't move and their credit is so bad they can't get a loan.  The children are teased daily at school for their living conditions.

The Dad that is disabled but so far hasn't qualified for disability and continusouly gets turned down by General Assistance.  His electricity has been turned off 4 times this past year because he hasn't had the money to pay it.  In the winter he and his son live in the living room/kitchen part of the mobile home because it is the only place with heat - when he can borrow money to buy fuel.  He hasn't been able to hold down a job since a major car accident that caused head trauma, which led to prescription pain addiction and years of trying to come clean.

The middle aged woman that looks elderly due to years of hardwork, smoking and PTSD.  Self-employed she has no healthcare and doesn't qualify for Medicaid.  An infection in her tooth spreads through her body leading to kidney failure, an ambulance ride and a week at Maine Med.  She is sent home to recouperate and the bills start pouring in.  Noone mentioned Freecare and that she would qualify.  $65,000 in bills later she becomes overwhelmed, stops opening her mail, answering her phone and becomes a recluse preparing to die.

The alcoholic that was an amazing teacher for over 20 years and lost her job when the school closed.  She began to drink more, met what she thought was a wonderful man and lived the next 12 years being beaten so badly she was hospitalized numerous times and didn't own one piece of furniture that wasn't broken.  Court let him off the attempted murder and he moved onto his next victim.  She was diagnosed with cancer.

The young mentally ill man that lives off of disability due to multiple diagnoses.  He wants so badly to blend in with society, hold down a job and be self sufficient.  He calls the crisis line everynight, has been hospitalized 6 times in the past year, cuts himself to soothe and threatens a police officer trying to help.

On and on it goes, people trying to live their everyday lives.  You stand behind them at the convienent store, see them walking in the rain to get where they need to go or in church on Sunday where you pray for others.  Remember each one of us is on a journey and it isn't always good or easy.  I ask that this holiday season you truly think of others - little gestures to others really do have an impact.  That door you just held open for someone could have been the nicest thing that happened to them all day. 

Peace

47 %

     I delivered blankets to an elderly gentleman this afternoon.  He is someone I have met with numerous times assisting with paperwork and connecting to community resources.   A disabled Marine Veteran, he is a gentle soul that holds so many stories and experiences it is always a pleasure to visit him.  He constantly has a kind word, is very thankful for any help he receives yet tries to stay as independent as he can.  His income is $985/month from Social Security and VA benefits.  He pays $300/month rent plus cmp, phone (we got him the basic lifeline) and heat.  He does not own a tv, he reads, listens to music and a scanner.  He has a small car payment for an older car and car insurance plus gas.  There is absolutely no way this man could make it on his own, without community, state and federal resources to assist him.  He is only one of many I work with that struggle on a daily basis.  He is the 47%.  He receives $60/month in food stamps, LIHEAP (low-income heating energy assistance program) assistance, Meals on Wheels a few nights, housekeeping help 2 afternoons through Elder Independence of Maine, Mainecare reimbursement for mileage (and Mainecare obviously).  He is on a waiting list for subsidized housing for the elderly but in the meantime utilizes local fuel funds, clothing sources, and the food pantry to assist him so he can continue to pay the bills he does have.  Lately he has had many deteriorating health issues, drs visits and tests.  He is consistantly in pain.  He admitted he is depressed and sought out services at the VA hospital.  Yet his sweetness still shines through.  Sitting in his wheelchair on the small sunny deck he talks about how blessed he is and thankful for the small things in life.  He was touched by the blankets I brought him for his bed today.  I showed him a smaller blue fleece one he could use as a throw over his legs in the living room.  His eyes sparkled then clouded over.  I have a problem he said seriously.  I sat down and asked him to tell me.  He has $140 in credit at his fuel agency from last spring.  He doesn't have any oil in his tank right now.  They won't deliver unless he pays $20 for delivery.  He turned his head away from me.  I sat quietly for a minute.  He turned back to me and said "I just don't have $20" and put his head down.  I assured him I could find $20 from a church or other local resource so we could get him his fuel.  He looked right at me and tears just poured from his eyes.  Thank you he whispered and squeezed my hand.  These are the moments that keep me motivated, touch my heart, fuel my passion and feed my frustrations with our government.  We should all be taking care of each other, not pointing fingers or judging.  I am thankful I work in a community that takes care of it's people and has the resources to assist those in need.

Cemetary

I read an article recently in the local newspaper about an elderly couple coming across a veteran's grave in an old forgotten cemetary. They learned the soldier's story by the minimal information on the grave and a bit of local research.  I was immediately brought back to my childhood while reading this.  I grew up directly across the street from a large, old cemetary on a small back road.  I spent many hours studying the names on those graves and making up stories about all the lives.

 While there are many, many memories from this odd playground, none stick out more than this one. There were 2 graves marked Unknown Man and another labeled Unknown Infant right next to it.  The story went that this man kidnapped the baby and they were in a rowboat that went over the Sheepscott Falls, killing them both. (You will notice that whenever I write about Sheepscott, I use 2 ts - yet legally the village name is spelled with one. This is because all local Sheepscott-ites have spelled it this way for generations and scoffed at the state when they claimed it to have only one).  Another grave was for a local couple that lost their newborn.  I was young at the time but old enough to know how tragic it was.  I used to bring flowers to his grave.  There were large family graves with numerous family members listed and buried below.  Graves of young siblings that left us wondering if they died of a disease or an accident.  There were many veterans from all parts of the military; special plaques accompanied some as well as flags for the holidays.  Many of the graves were from the 17 and 1800s, some sinking into the ground so far we could no longer read the names. Looking out over the sea of graves was to see hundreds of lives, each with their own story.  Some sunny afternoons I would lie by a grave in the grass on my back, staring at the sky and wondering about their life.

We did everything in this cemetary as kids.  In the winter we would sled on the hills.  In the summer we played Little House on the Prarie (using a gravestone with an open book carved on top as the school teacher's desk, the bench by a grave as the school desk/chair).  Flashlight tag, hide seek and spying on funerals were some of the favorite activities. I can remember waiting for the gravediggers to leave at the end of the day.  We would run over to the giant hole and stand on the edge peering down in, letting our imaginations run wild.  After the funeral I would return to stand on the fresh dirt wondering about the person that lay below. For years Dad would hide in the dark by a gravestone on Halloween and birthday parties. He would flash his "zany-zappers" causing glowing red eyes to stare out and send us screaming.  One particular family stone was so big we used to climb up and sit on top with a picnic lunch or our barbies.  When I was around 7 or 8 I raided the trash barrels by the big locked door where the lawn mowers were held on the side of the cemetary.  All the discarded baskets from Easter were there along with many plastic flowers.  I brought my mother the biggest, most gawdy flower arrangment for Mother's Day.  I was SO proud.   Another time our babysitter brought us into one of the old tombs built into the side of the hill.  I remember going down in but I don't remember what we saw inside.  My photo albums are filled with shots from the cemetary.  My sister and cousins snapping photos of ourselves as teens, family photos and many black & white pics of graves and plaques from my highschool days experimenting in the darkroom.  Memories of kisses with boys, smoking cigarettes in hiding, learning how to photograph the full moon with my Dad and my new 35mm camera.  I can remember sitting on the top of the hill with binoculars in the cold, clear winter night air with my Dad showing me constellations. 

When I wanted to be alone for whatever reason, there was a path from the back of the cemetary to the river.  The roots from gigantic pine trees formed natural benches above the rocks to the river below.  The gorgeous view included the Sheepscott Falls where my imagination could still picture a man and infant in a rowboat everytime I looked over.

Today the kids and I visited the cemetary.  We parked out back and explored all my favorite spots.  The tree I used to climb is gone, only a stump remains marking the spot. The small tomb of the newborn I used to leave flowers for was barely visible as it has sunk into the earth and grass has grown over it. Some of the hills, rocks and stairs are all overgrown with trees and many layers of leaves and branches that noone has taken care of.  The tombs on the side of the hill are gone, grass covers where the metal doors used to be.  It was sad to see and my son could tell this as I showed them the areas and explained what we used to play there.  "It has changed a lot hasn't it?' he asked me.  I nodded and murmured "it certainly has."  He looked at me and said "I'm glad you still have your memories." "Me too." I smiled and looked out over the many stones covering the beautiful hill.  Even though it has changed it still brings a smile to my face and encompasses me with so many wonderful memories.  I drove out of the cemetary feeling peaceful.  Almost like finishing a favorite old book.

4th of July

I've never been a fan of the 4th of July.  Don't get me wrong, I love the meaning of it, the day the Declaration of Independence was adopted! The birthday of our country. I love all the American flags and everything decked out in red, white and blue. 

Except for the few years the town of Damariscotta had a raft race on the river, the 4th has been pretty uneventful.  We had barbeques at the neighbors house during my childhood, all old people, no fun and games.  We always went to the fireworks.  Love fireworks, but it seemed like such a long, boring day to wait around to watch them and then realizing bedtime follows after the climax of the day.  July fourth barbeques have proven to be boring for me -where are all the fun activities, the boating, swimming, and the decorating?. 

Our town doesn't have a 4th of July parade but other nearby towns do.  In my twenties I attended the Round Pond Village parades with groups of drunk people, trying to fit in and pretend I was having fun.  In my thirties it has been with the kids and family, walking  a zillion miles from the parked car to sit in the hot sun with a bunch of people I hardly know, wishing I was home as my kids cling to me and don't understand the humor in the floats. I envy all the villagers that hangout and have a fun day with their neighbors and friends. 

Every year I think "whoopty do" the 4th is coming - and I want to be excited, I really do.  I want to hang with friends, make fun fourth of July crafts, decorate in red, white and blue, drink too much, listen to music and laugh.  I want it to be a perfect summer day.  Instead of realizing I have the power to change this lonesome tradition of dreading the 4th of July and all the nothing it brings with it - I just continue to loathe it and hope to get through the day.  One of these years I will make a plan and create a new family tradition of something really fun and festive.  Until then I will at least serve strawberry shortcake and spark up some morning glories while waiting for the fireworks. 

One Year

This is me one year ago. My depression spiraled the year we lost our business.  I emotionally ate my way through every month until I looked like this. Now one year later, I feel like I have been on one amazing journey.  I have learned so much about myself.  I have always been an active person AND I have always been a person that overindulges. I am an emotional eater.  Carbs, I can overload on them like noone you've ever seen.  Cookies, pastries, bread, pasta . . . and then there's the sugar. Don't forget the Captains. I love junk food.  I am an addict - mostly in recovery but I still have slip ups even a year later.  I realize that this will be an ongoing life issue for me.  I certainly don't have it under control but I am much healthier and STRONGER than I was a year ago. 

While the whole point of joining Hall's Biggest Loser Challenge was just to lose weight, it has impacted my whole life. I have learned to push myself out of my comfort zone.  I am learning how food and exercise effect my whole body (and not always paying attention to that even though I know I should - still working on that).  I've made new friends, entered road races, ran farther than I thought I could, completed a triathlon. I've taken up kickboxing, spinning and strength training.  I'm learning to pick myself up when I slip and keep going . . . plow through the wall - not always easy and won't always happen the first time . . . but keep going.  The support of the Hall's crew and all of the people I have met in classes and along the way has been extremely motivating.  A husband that joined the bandwagon is truly awesome.  Being a role model for my kids is exhilerating.  A giant thank you to all who have supported, inspired, and motivated me this past year.  Thrilled to continue my journey!

Dog World

I will be the first to admit we bit off more than we can chew. Dogs. We LOVE them, they are like our kids. I just want to surround myself with them all the time. We have 4 dogs, we are crazy. At the time we were looking for our 4th dog, I had a brief moment where I questioned our sanity but I was feeling fearless. Rational behavior got thrown out the window. We'd had 4 dogs before and told ourselves it was kind of fun (seriously, wth?!). But they were all similar breeds that were easy to train, and yes they were mischevious but it was more like get into the trash ,eat something gross - not eat the walls, moulding, boots and basically anything within reach, plow through the door, take off through the woods, run down the road and jump on the neighbor kind of stuff.

When Brendan was a baby, we had four dogs. I walked 4 miles every morning before work with him in the jogger, our Jack Russell, Toby, sitting in a basket I had my Dad make that went between the handle bar, and the other 3 heeled by me or behind me on their leashes. Noone freaked out, pulled or tried to run off. We were a pack, it was truly awesome. The 3 big guys did not roam off our property but once or twice. The terrier, well he's another story. AND one we should have listened to more carefully. Or since I grew up with a terrier, one I SHOULD have known. Terriers are stubborn and hard to train. Tweedle Dum & Tweedle Dee as I like to call our sweet terrier mixes, Boston & Bella, are no exceptions. Boston has been to one session of obedience training. He heels great on a leash, he is the one I typically pick to go on a run with, he barely pulls. Bella is being trained, she knows basics such as sit and lie down. She does not get heel yet and could give a shit about "come." She likes to do whatever Boston does. Which leads to the major problem around here. They roam.

With the winter cold & darkness they were just not getting the exercise they need. All summer and fall they were run everyday for miles between Jason and I. Then the exercise moved inside for us - and they became more housebound . . . and began to roam more than they ever have. To the point now, they are not even listening to the Alpha (that would be Jason as I am considered just a pack mate - completely my own fault, I know this) if they get loose. I will not let them out of the house with me unless they are on a leash. They get walked to their runs or kennel on a leash. But as expected with two young kids the doors get left open or the kids get plowed over and the Tweedles are off on their next adventure.

Last week after they got out yet again I surrendered. I got out the tape measure, walked around the yard with pen and paper and then hit the internet to research building a dog yard. There is no other choice. We adopted these characters and one way or another we will make it work. I just never thought owning 12 acres in the rural countryside that I would ever have to fence in my yard. Oh the things we do for our families :)