La, LA la la, wait ’till I get my money right

First of all, I should say that it would seem that Yeezy still doesn’t quite have his money right, so is there really any hope for me?

I am so, so glad to be back in NY. I am also so, so broke. But this is nothing new…not at all.

I am 47 years old, and I have never had a salary of more than $50,000 at any job. I’m currently at $10,000 less than that, and still reeling from my year of unemployment followed by underemployment followed by a 10% rent increase. In a few years, with scheduled pay increases, I will finally be doing…sort of okay. In a few months, I will be able to start my seasonal job, and in theory I will be able to pay down some debts and begin to dig myself out of this hole.

Today, however, I’m so limited by living one paycheck away from financial disaster. And there are so many seemingly “simple” things that I want to do that I’m just not able to because of my financial situation. I am afraid that friends and family members who have extended invitations to visit think I am blowing them off, when really the $100 or so that a rental car would cost is beyond my reach. One of my dearest friends is now only eight hours away from me by car, instead of twenty, and yet I’ve only seen her once or twice in the year and a half that I’ve been back in NY.

Worst of all, I am facing the very real possibility that I might not make it to Grand Rapids for Elijah’s birthday in September.

I’ve never missed his birthday. When I left Grand Rapids, I promised Mona I would always, always come back for his birthday weekend. I have some possible overtime coming up at work, so I may be able to swing it, but I am also (at least in theory) weighing my options in terms of paying my rent late so that I can be there for his birthday. Since my single biggest fear is being homeless and having gross feet, this should give you an idea of how much this matters to me.

Then there’s another one of my best friends who has a milestone birthday coming up in October. I would really like to be there for this as well, but the possibility seems just as bleak.

(I have written about this before. I get so sick of rehashing it, and yet I feel like I should be doing something to change things. But is it really a moral failing? I just don’t know. I also think that in a financial sense, being single brings its own challenges, but that’s another topic altogether…)

I’m determined to do what I can to climb out of this pit, even as I dream of some kind of windfall that could wipe the slate clean, free me from debt, and allow me to spend as much time as possible with the people I love. I pray for money from some random source, and instead God gives me a second job, overtime, opportunities to work and continue to earn money.

I still wish it were easier. I still wish I made more money, that I could feel like I was getting ahead, that I could visit the people I love whenever I wanted to.

Choosing to live in NYC means that I am choosing to continue in this struggle. It also means, however, that I finally have the potential to make more money in the future.

Maybe I’ll get myself together after all…in the meantime, all I can do is hope that the people I love can forgive me for not being able to be with them at crucial (and maybe even the not-so-crucial) moments.

I want things to be different. I won’t stop praying for a ridiculous miracle, but I also know that I need to do my part. I don’t want to miss another birthday of Elijah’s…I want to be able to go visit Donovan for his birthday, and to someday bring both of the boys to New York for a reunion. I know that the past can’t be recaptured, but I would love to see them renew the bond that they had when they were small.

I have to find a way. I have to get myself together. Maybe it will happen before I turn fifty…but we will have to wait and see.

La, la, la, la 
Wait till I get my money right
La, la, la, la 
Then you can’t tell me nothing, right?

– Kanye West, “Can’t Tell Me Nothing

 

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Bad theology

“You’re not where you need to be.”

I have heard this phrase far too many times in the past two months. The words are being spoken in a work setting, so clearly theology has absolutely nothing to do with the issue at hand. So why the weird title to this post?

(Besides the obvious, which is that I’m weird in general…but I digress…)

I should also say that I feel like I probably should not even be talking about the situation publicly, not even in veiled terms. But I also suspect that by now, there is almost nothing I can do to affect the ultimate outcome here. Although I’ve far from given up (in fact, I have been working really hard on trying to give myself credit for how well I have been persevering in the situation), everything I see and read and hear tells me that it’s highly unlikely that I will be able to come back from this. Which is a shame, because in spite of the situation, I really, REALLY love the actual work. And it’s certainly no secret that I gladly drank that blue Kool-Aid long ago.

So about that phrase.

It’s being used in a diagnostic sense, a warning, so to speak, that I am not okay and that I need to fix what is broken, and quickly. On a surface level, I fundamentally disagree with this as well, but my opinion about where I “should” be in terms of mastery of my role does not match theirs…and mine is not the opinion that matters in this situation.

But here’s the thing. Setting aside the actual situation, I also reject the message in a much broader sense. I believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe that I am exactly where I need to be.

I prayed for years that I would be able to come home. This move happened…but it didn’t just “happen” – I pursued it repeatedly. I am certain with every fiber in my being that God brought me here.

I. am. where. I. need. to. be.

To say otherwise…well, that’s just bad theology.

Whether some people believe that I am “where I need to be” in a tangible or a professional sense, and no matter how uncertain and potentially frightening the immediate future may be, I am here. I’m not going anywhere.

I’m where I need to be. I’m in God’s hands. And after all is said and done, that’s the one thing that really matters.

 

random, whiny, unedited

(otherwise known as “would have made this my Facebook status, but that would have been super-obnoxious”)

I went to an orientation this morning for substitute teachers for a center-based special education program in a town about 30 minutes away from me. I don’t know if I will sub there a lot, but in part it felt like it was free training, and I think I also needed the motivation.

Motivation is not something I have enough of, today or any other day.

My eyes lit up when I saw the kids. I felt energized by the information that was shared. The assistant director of the school used the words “evidence-based practice” several times, and I was impressed with the facility and the energy of the place.

(It was a little bit…white, though. Maybe “white” is not the right word, but it felt too perfect…wealthy…insular. The names of the teachers were overwhelmingly of the same ethnicity, and it felt like a bit of an insider’s club. Maybe not fair to judge after an hour in the place, but let’s just say that it was clear that we were not in an inner-city school district.)

Motivated. Trying to remind myself that I need to push forward with this school thing and then I can be around kids all. the. time.

You think that would have spurred me on…go home, dive into the schoolwork, get this one class out of the way so I can go on to the next…

But no. I turned on the Uber app, hoping to cover my trip out to the boonies. Took two riders. Needed lunch; was craving Chinese food, so I stopped and got some. Carb coma ensued. Fell asleep (but not for long enough). Woke up. Went shopping for no reason.

I need to sleep, because I know it will help me to feel better. But I am sick of myself, sick of knowing that I could be moving forward, but for this invisible force that holds me back. Sick of my house being in total disarray…sick of the crap I eat that is probably making me more tired…sick of my days getting away from me and my constant level of disorganization.

My therapist tells me that she has nothing new to add to the situation, that I have the knowledge that I need…I hear her words, I know she is right.

But I am still stuck.

I am running out of time. I am wasting my life. I have barely twenty good years ahead of me career-wise, and yet I am driving towards this goal via the slowest possible route, even though the highway is easily within my reach.

And right now, I just need to go to sleep and tell myself that I will make better choices tomorrow.

I read this, and it took my breath away.

Not to beat a dead horse, but if you’ve been reading this for a while (all two of you!), then you know how I feel about people making a joke out of ADHD. Even so, it’s hard not to assign blame to myself for this. No matter how many ways it’s confirmed, no matter how many different tests show that I really do have this thing, it’s still hard not to feel like this is a moral failing.

It’s still too easy to despise myself.

A few days ago, I came across an article on this website. A parent was asking for help navigating her son’s school environment, and trying to get the cooperation of his teachers. The writer, Sue Whitney, gave a helpful and very detailed response. The first part that caught my attention was this:

When they say, “He . . .  

  • doesn’t pay attention,
  • forgets,
  • interrupts,
  • daydreams,
  • wanders off task,
  • drives the teacher to drink,
  • doesn’t show his work on math problems,
  • is disorganized,
  • etc.”
    You say, “That is part of his disability.

See more at: http://www.wrightslaw.com/heath/dont.care.iep.htm#sthash.WBipQdqZ.dpuf

So there I am. I don’t pay attention…I forget things (or remember too much, sometimes)…I interrupt-dear Lord, do I interrupt. Off task? Check. Disorganized? Check. I don’t *think* I drive my supervisor or colleagues to drink, but you never know…

My current job is a huge struggle for me in that I am too detailed, too easily distracted, not fast enough. I get bogged down in the details and everything takes me so much longer than it takes those around me. I work with people who can hold long conversations with the people around them and still get more done in their day than I ever can, even if I buckle down, sit far away from everybody, and try to shut out everything around me.

I feel the limits of my brain quite acutely in this setting.

When it comes up in my performance evaluations, as it so often does, we talk about me trying harder, about ways that I might be able to work more efficiently. I know that my brain is part of the problem, but it never occurs to me to think of it as anything other than something that I am at fault for. Surely this is something I can “fix”.
But the writer of the response then said something else. Something that stopped me in my tracks. She was responding to the parent’s report that her son was sent home each day with a behavior chart that inevitably had multiple “sad face” stickers on it. Whitney responded in this way:

How do they think that makes him feel? Do they think the sad face stickers are going to change his disability? Does the kid in the wheelchair get sad faces on her chart for not walking well? If they gave the kid in the wheelchair sad face stickers do they think it would change the way she walks?

(emphasis mine)

A disability. A real disability, that I can’t simply change by trying harder. I don’t say this to suggest that medication and modifying behaviors and the like are not necessary. I am not saying that there is nothing I can do, or that I just “can’t help myself”. I am just saying that I am always going to struggle, that my brain does not work so well sometimes.

Someone who uses a wheelchair because their legs do not work the same way as other people is not, to my knowledge, ever accused of moral failure, of not “trying hard enough”. Can I give myself that same grace? And how do I advocate for myself in the workplace when so many people, myself included, don’t take ADHD seriously?

I don’t have the answer to these questions. I only know that these words were a gift to me, a compelling reminder that my struggles are real, even if invisible.

(The article referenced in this post is from http://www.wrightslaw.com/heath/dont.care.iep.htm)

– See more at: http://www.wrightslaw.com/heath/dont.care.iep.htm#sthash.WBipQdqZ.dpuf

The blog entry I wrote while avoiding schoolwork…

Hi.

(forgive the ridiculously long space…trying to see if I can psych out RSSGraffiti. Still here? Good, thanks!)

It’s been a crappy week. Unfortunately, it’s been a crappy week that immediately followed a very large paycheck, thanks to both overtime and my quarterly bonus. I have been shopping almost non-stop. Oh, and birthdays. Two birthdays this weekend…how to bank up the sleep ahead of time?

A shopping addiction is even more of a joke in our society than ADHD is…but I can assure you that it’s no laughing matter. I’m obsessed…it’s never enough. I truly fear that I am going to become one of those people who carries around one of those creepy life-life dolls, just so that I have a little girl to dress as I please.

One thing that sucks. I still want a baby. I want someone that belongs to me. My therapist tells me that this is an adoptee thing…maybe she’s right. But it doesn’t make the ache any less real.

I’m supposed to be doing schoolwork…did I mention that? Truth be told, although I am loath to admit it, I am feeling more than a little bit manic.

I should be cleaning the house.

I need to do something with my pictures. I need my walls to be covered with them, rather than just having them piled up in boxes. I need more of those magnetic photo holder ropes to put in different places. Oh wait, I could make my own.

I should go through the hand-me-downs and get stuff ready for the people I will see at party #2. They are all over the place.

The last seven days’ worth of shopping vomit is all over my floor, in different bags, unsorted. There is stuff for party #1 in there…I need to figure that out before tomorrow.

I need to bank some sleep because birthday parties, and human interaction in general, are exhausting.

I REALLY need to do laundry. I am out of underwear. And I have a LOT of underwear.

My sink is full of dirty dishes and the clean dishwasher needs to be emptied.

I don’t write enough. Not just blogging, but writing for myself, journaling, saying the things that don’t get said on Facebook or via my blog. If I don’t do this, I will not have the full story when I look back on these days. I almost bought (!) a new notebook at Target yesterday…it was a pretty raspberry color, and petite…and only $1.99 (but I can stop anytime I want, really!). But I didn’t buy it, because I already have notebooks, and I need to pick up the ones I have and utilize them. I need to, but I won’t.

I am also really bad at emailing my friends. Staying connected when people are so far away. I have friends who are hurting, and I am not tending to that hurt. I need to do that. And laundry. And presents.

So much to read online about how badly this country sucks.

So much war everywhere. So much destruction. Guns are stupid. War is stupid. Hating each other is stupid. Racism is exceedingly, monumentally stupid and yet so many people don’t understand how deep it goes and how very much work we still have to do.

And I am behind on my schoolwork. I am officially a full-time student as of July 1st. Ahead of schedule because I tested out of my first course, but stuck…behind…paralyzed. I can’t fail at this. But I might. And I need a paper calendar to get myself in order, but which kind? Not another store…but how else can I find one?

But I just started the laundry, before even finishing this. And my course is open in my other browser, so I just need to go there and start.

And what I must always remember: God is bigger than all of this bullshit. He will have the final say, will have us beating swords into plowshares, and there will come a time when people will not hate, when (mostly various shades of brown) children will not be bombed and shot and idiots on the Internet will not say that those children deserved to be killed.

That day seems a long way off…but I know it’s coming. And it’s something to hold on to, weary though we all may be.

And now, the homework. Thanks for reading, if you’ve gotten this far through today’s rant. I am thankful for you, as well! (Unless you are that annoying spam-bot leaving comments…not so thankful then.)