sidewalk

Every day this week (well, not so many, it is only Wednesday), as I get close to my home, I have seen a young woman.  She is standing next to a stroller in which there is a small child...or a big baby...hard to tell as I drive past.

She is standing in the exact same place every single time.  Twice she was looking up and today she was smiling, blowing kisses and waving. 

And, I knew why she was there.  On the upper floors of that building, actually a whole bunch of buildings, is where prisoners are housed.  It is the downtown jail.  A temporary place whilst your trial is going on and I think they hold people for other reasons which I cannot remember right now and I am too tired to look up.

But, that woman was patient and so willing to be there so that at the right moment, she would be able to wave and blow kisses and love to whomever managed to be at that window.

I have no idea who she is, although I am pretty sure that she does not live on my street.  I noticed her the past two days, but when she was there today I could not help but wonder what her story might be.

I would like to think that she is a young wife, and that her equally young husband is incarcerated because something that he did long before they met and he fell head over heels in love with her, has finally caught up with him.

It was a stupid crime in a long line of stupid criminal mistakes that he has made since he was barely into his teens.  It is not a factor of running with the wrong crowd, but more that he believed that being an outlaw was cool.  It gave him status in the neighborhood because he was daring and he had lots of money to flash around. 

Then, at some point he came to his senses, ended his association with those people, got a job and tried to live a decent life.  He even tried to make amends to his victims, doing it anonymously.  He told himself that doing it that way was better than not doing anything at all.  And, because he did not have a record, he was able to get a decent entry level job, where he did excellent work, another part of trying to make amends.  He received a couple of promotions and raises and was doing well.

The reason for his turnaround can be credited to his grandmother.  But, that is another story.

He had been clean, sober and law-abiding for almost a year when they met.  She knew nothing about his past and he made sure that she did not find out.  Well, not until six weeks ago when the police came to their apartment with a warrant for his arrest. 

He may have left that old crowd behind, tried to forget their activities had been his as well. but they had not forgotten him.  And, when they were caught during a long string of home invasions their own homes and those of their relatives were searched.  Many stolen items were found and they faced a whole shitload of charges.  In the process, they implicated him in many of the robberies.

So, there he is.  On the upper floor of the downtown jail.

And, there she and their child are.  On the sidewalk below.  Waiting and watching and hoping for that moment when they see daddy.  They smile and wave and blow kisses and love.  It is just a moment.  It has to be enough.  Until tomorrow.

exhausted

Up at dawn.
Hour and a half drive.  Each way.  Through jam-packed rush hour traffic.  And, rain.
Grueling curriculum.  I can easily see how they are cramming all of this into a single week.  Grueling, I tell you.
Gosh, four more days of this?
Nice people, for a room full of crazy folk.
Each person's experiences, the journey they have taken to recovery just takes my breath away.
I am the least qualified person in the room.
Even more grateful that I made it past the waiting list; also confused about how I made it into this august group.
Interesting to watch how each person's disability forms their behavior.
More interesting to see how the behavior of other members of the training reflect back to me those aspects of my life that need lots of work.
Tons of coffee.
Nice selection of expensive teas, and I am taking full advantage of that.
Healthy snack, lots of fresh fruit and granola-type bars.
Excellent presenters and leaders.
I am already in love with five of the people.

Four more days.

But, I did get part of the laundry done on the way back into town, and I have food for lunches and a frozen dinner for dinner.  Which, unless I go and heat it up right now, will not be eaten, will have to be tossed, and I have to get to bed because we begin an hour earlier tomorrow.

And, my newly short hair looks really stupid because I have absolutely no idea what to do with it aside from plastering it down with hair goo.

CoolCat missed me, though, so that is nice, the being missed part.  Probably not so much fun for him.  Should I get a job out of this, he is going to have to get used to me being gone during the entire day more frequently.

beliefs

I have been struggling with a loss of faith for most of this year.  I was regularly involved in our church for a long time.  Then, I cobbled together my favorite aspects of all of the religions I investigated during my twenties.  Seems like a lifetime ago, and I guess it is. 

Whatever happened, I held on to those practices and beliefs, that were not connected to any one spiritual practice or faith community.  But, now all of that is gone.  Just gone.

I still believe in a kind and loving Universe.  I still believe in the inherent goodness of people, that despite how things might go awry, few people set out to be terrible people.  I still believe in lots of things, and am recently welcoming hope back into my life.  Of course, having the whole divorce mess nearly over is helping that dramatically.

I have been thinking and writing about this empty space in my life for a long time; more intensively and focused in the past six months.  I have been reading.  Nothing seems to inspire me.  I know that because it bothers me, this empty space, that I am most likely on a path to regaining my faith in a larger-than-self.  It would be nice to find a church, a faith community, that is a good fit for me.

This morning I began talks with a woman who offers spiritual counseling.  It went well and I think that it is a good beginning.  I will be seeing her again in two weeks.  This should be very interesting.

independence

Fourth of July is celebrated as Independence Day, when, well, all that stuff happened.  So, being the associative person that I am, I reflect on my own independence, because that is the sort of self-absorbed person that I am.  But, not really.  For the most part, most of my navel-gazing is over.  I still like introspection, but I seem to need it less and less.

When I moved last year, I landed in a location that is pretty much smack-dab in the middle of my city's (gosh, I still like claiming this city so much) July 4th parade route.  It was one of the selling points made by my landlord when I looked at this flat.

Parades, lots of people, bands, lots of people, thanks, but despite my desire to embrace and enjoy parades, I just cannot.  One of the other people who lives here in this house has company for a few weeks and the other person is having a big party.  I know this because she posted an open invitation to anyone who reads Facebook.  In fairness, she shared the party part with me weeks ago and that is cool.  As long as I do not have to participate she can do whatever she likes.

And, I like her.  Very much, as well as her sons, her family and friends.  She is a good neighbor and this old house is the perfect place to have a big party and celebrate.  She invited me for breakfast and lunch and dinner and beverages and a water balloon fight and everything.  I wish, half-heartedly, that I still enjoyed big gatherings.  It would be nice to spend the day celebrating something, and I will.  The Fourth is a big deal here, in all of its contexts. 

Parking on the parade route was restricted as of midnight and it was weird to see an empty street before I went to bed last night.  I slept late this morning, waking only when the ice cream truck passed by the first time.  Brilliant that.  Only uber local, as in actual residents, vehicle traffic is blocked, but they give access to the ice cream truck.  Every time it passed the house it was an old-timey, nearly iconic representation of summer days and simple pleasures.  Sweet.

The street is packed with people who claimed viewing spots sometime during the night.  Our side of the street is in shade because of the tall, old, Victorian houses here.  My neighbor, the one who is partying all day, claimed the driveway portion with a camping canopy and there has been a steady stream of people moving along the sidewalks.  I still am not fond of parades or crowds of people, but I have to admit that the whole thing is beginning to grow on me.  Maybe, if I am still here next year I will make it out to the porch.

I am celebrating, though.  Breakfast of hot dogs on these really cool ciabatta buns I found at the market.  Chicken curry for dinner and I will toast the spirit of the day with a nice martini.  I might go out to watch the fireworks tonight; I might not.  I have talked to CoolCat about the noise, which will only increase when the parade begins.  Since I do not attend to parades, I do not know much beyond people sitting along the route and cool stuff moving past them.  The talking to my cat is ordinary, with only the two of us living here.  But, he is already mildly alarmed by the sounds from outside and is lounging close to me.

Funny thing that, CoolCat and me.  I keep hearkening back to this, keep thinking and repeating this, but I really never thought that I could have a life anywhere close to what I now have.  It truly is independence in a manner that I could not have imagined.  So, I guess I am introspective and centered on my own circumstances this morning.  Just sort of acknowledging and honoring it.  Managing yesterday's situation is part of the good feelings I am having today. 

Oh, here comes the ice cream truck again...have to go look!  It is right across the street and all kinds of people are lining up for cold treats.  A man with a tall, like really tall cart is walking in the other direction.  It has all kinds of shiny stuff on it and is topped with tons of balloons, stars and mylar and Dora the Explora'.  Alrighty, this is cool.
Now that the whole divorce mess is officially over, I am able to reflect on how I hope that my ex is feeling the same ways that I do.  I hope that he is happy and free of everything.  I think that the process of writing this morning is helping me in a new way.  Sure, looking back at the past and seeing how far all of us have come, although I am guessing about everyone except for me.  I was so naïve, so unprepared for everything that has happened.  Now I am smarter, stronger, moving on to some pretty exciting new possible ventures.  I was thinking the other day that I might be ready to dip back into painting. 

All things honored, I think that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. 

taste of things to come

There is a woman who is a member of one of the support groups to which I belong.  The therapist in that group has encouraged me to do more peer counseling.  I am gradually doing so, taking my time, spending most of my time simply listening and pulling the resources I have assembled into some decent sort of arrangement.  I need more documentation and materials from those places, as well as more efficient filing system.  I am currently using three-ring binders, a Rolodex and some computer files.  It works well, but I need to develop a more portable system.

I am also developing a employment opportunities system that I can e-mail to the several services and facilities that want that information more readily and easily available to people who have scant experience or no experience using computers.  The days of job searching in the local newspaper classifieds is over.  Same thing for cold-calling on companies, stores and offices, introducing yourself and asking if they were hiring.  Some people are still making cold-calls, but companies are not all that fond of the practice, which is why they take applications only via their own web sites and hiring services. 

I do not want to become sidetracked on employment stuff, because I could write about that forever.  The details are not all that important, but something happened with one of the women from that particular group today.

She has been texting messages to me for several days, following several telephone calls last week.  The reason she is comfortable doing this is because the original therapist in charge of group, the one who created it for her clients who needed an additional place to discuss their issues and as a place for some of them to develop social contacts, asked at her second-to-last session with us if anyone wanted to share telephone numbers with anyone else.  Her intent was sublime.  She thought that if any of the women was having difficulty with something or simply needed to talk to another person who had similar experiences and could relate, then the best place to create such a support system was within the group.

Trust grows in that environment.  Women who were unable to speak or trust anyone have really grown and bloomed as a result of this particular group.  I know that happens in the right kind of support group environment, for any personal issue, whether it be mental illness or substance abuse or domestic abuse or veterans issues, the list goes on.  If there is a need, there are careful and informed people who will do whatever it takes to make a safe place available.

The first problem with this group is that several women wanted me to be their partner in this project, and I shared my telephone number with four women. 

The second problem is that if you are in a quasi-professional/helping position in a group, you begin to transcend the more simple (not that anything is that simple) position of being a group member.  I really do not mind this happening.  Doing this work and being comfortable with other people depending on me to help them and be a nice guy about it is why, well, it is why I do this work. 

I believe that everything in my life has been leading, guiding me to do this work.  Simple as that.  I would be ungrateful for all the good that I have in my life if I did not honor this process.  I believe in what I am doing. 

It is why I am beginning my certification training next week.  It is why I work in so many places where people need employment help and social support.  And, even though it is my hope that if I complete the training and qualify for the certification, that I will be able to find a part-time job, one that actually brings a paycheck along with the work, all of this work is so important to me that I will be continuing to volunteer a couple of days each week. 

So, anyway, two of those women have been relying on me for a bunch of small things and, honestly, it is fine.  Today that changed, when the woman I mentioned called me after the calls last week and the texting this week.  She wanted me to come and pick her up from the place she is living because she is fighting with another person there.  Ambiguous, but this is now how I have to do this.

I was already meeting another friend for lunch, so I invited her along.  The story is so long and involved, but for more than three hours after I picked her up, she made statements about what she needs and that this other person wants me to provide them for her.  I listened, was sympathetic and did not make any offers in response to how she was presenting what she needed.

After the first few comments from her, I had a revelation.  Not exactly thunderstruck, but a whole bunch of lights went blazing over my head.  Classic cartoon light bulbs.  And, I was able to be professional and see how she was using our relationship in an attempt to manipulate me the way she has been sharing that she does with other people.  Heady stuff.

Interesting aspects are that she kept it up for the entire two-hour lunch (slow eaters and fast talkers, the only defense we have for taking so long), and then when I left the table at the restaurant to use the restroom, she made the same attempts directly to my friend.  I know this because my friend called me later and told me what had happened. 

And, I know that both of us managed this uncomfortable afternoon well because my errands included returning library books and stopping at the help center to drop off more eyeglasses.  When there I asked to chat with my therapist and shared what had happened.  It felt a little weird, but it was nice to be reassured that my instincts were spot on today.

I feel so sad about her circumstances.   Allowing her to live with me for a while, driving her to another state or giving her money or buying things for her is not going to help either of us, but most especially not her.  That I had the opportunity to reinforce this process right before next week's training is pretty amazing.  These interactions have been happening between me and my clients from the beginning, four years ago. 

I have some slip-ups, as in giving money and things like that, but I have gradually learned to rein in those impulses, declining when it is in everyone's best interest to not do or give something.  I made one terrible mistake earlier this year when I returned a telephone call to a client using my cell phone instead of the reference desk phone.  It is fortunate that that did not become a problem issue, although I and the librarian were concerned for a while.  A misstep that I will not repeat.

And, that is what today was about.  I disappointed a person who wanted all kinds of personal resources from me.  I paid attention to what was happening and made all the right decisions about how to handle the situation.  This kind of circumstance is going to happen more regularly from now on.  My best guess is that a core skill is learning how to help people without hurting them big-picture-wise.  This is not original with me, but helping someone when you can is almost always a great thing, but rescuing someone is not good or healthy for either party, the rescuer or the rescued.  The line between those two, helping and rescuing is so small that it can be difficult to know where one ends and the other begins.

I want to help.  Simple as that.  I do not want to become enmeshed in other people's lives.  This work is not about me, it is solely about the other person.  I am already good about listening, helping and referring, about caring about other people; now I need the skills to make sure that I build the knowledge and wisdom to do it for the best result. 

This has been a most interesting day, and it would not have been nearly as successful were it not for the help and guidance of a truly great therapist. 

friends

It looks like I am keeping mine.  My best guess is that the difficulty I was having with them lies solidly in my lap.  Or, mind and attitude and lack of heart.  Not to mention the stress.  I had a nice, mostly, time with each of them. 

I never deluded myself about how stressed I was, but hindsight is allowing me to see where I was.  I am not going to criticize who I was then, how I behaved, not my uncertainty about everything. 

It is just that it is interesting to have that extra perspective.

My friend who recently had a scare about cancer and I had lunch today, in celebration of the excellent and healthy results of her biopsy.  Yay.  I mean, who does not like happy news, and heaven forbid that I should celebrate with anything else but a meal.  Great lunch, lots of sushi and I get to go back to that restaurant tomorrow with another friend.

I am glad that I have taken this time off from work.  Last week was weird, but this week is better.  I have been thinking about how I might restructure my work load and optimize the time I spend with clients.  All of the ideas I have are either unworkable or just plain dumb.  Just saying.

Oh, I got a haircut today, from the same stylist who fixed the worst haircut in the Universe for me last year.  I asked for short and I got it.  My hair has never been so short.  It is short.  Like really short.   No one is going to believe how short it is.  To be honest, I think that it makes me look at least fifteen minutes younger.  Honest.  It really does.  O.K., maybe ten.

Tomorrow is one more lunch with one more friend.  This one will be a breeze, a snap, a nice time.  She is the kind of friend that I aspire to be. 

I am one, lucky old babe.

nice

Day.

The second friend was nice today. 
I was nice today. 
We are still friends.
She invited me to her daughter's wedding. 
I am going. 
I afford to give a nice gift. 

Nice, because I did not want to stop seeing her.  I like her and I am hoping that feeling like she was belittling me all the time was some over-reaction on my part.  I am very happy to accept the responsibility for the rocky condition of our relationship.  And, I am more happy to still want to see her and that she still wants to spend time with me.  Just plain nice.

I met one of the handymen who helped me last year and was finally able to give him a decent tip.  He assessed all of that other person's mess and gave me a fair price.  However, when they started to clear everything out, the true nature of the mess was revealed.

It was like peeling the layers off of  the worst onion in the Universe.  Seriously.  Clearing that house out was a sobering glimpse of what hell must be like.  Seriously.

I knew immediately that the estimate he gave me would not cover the actual costs of the work.  I did not have any extra money, having used the last of my cash to order a half-dozen large pizzas for them and an extra hundred dollars to use as a tip for the five men.  As the afternoon went on, I became increasingly ashamed of the whole damn thing.  The crew was great, even when three of them had to return the next day to finish.  I vowed that I would someday give them more than the measly tip. 

Every time I would get a few dollars ahead I put it into the bank, slowing building a decent thank you for all of that insanely hard work.  But, it really was so slow, and I wondered if I would live long enough to do this.  Then, last Friday, everything about the whole freak show of my divorce was finally over.  I did not yet have any of the money, but I knew for sure that it was coming. 

And, you know, I hate to keep dwelling on this, but for some reason I am bothered by parts of it.  I have to let this go and just be glad I received more than the nothing I expected.  It so pathetic, this feeling like a baby.  I hate it.  This is the strongest emotion I have had during the entire process, and it over nothing.  Just nothing.  Whatever.

So, I still do not actually have any of it, but it is coming, and I called the handyman last night and arranged to meet him today.  I got up, troweled on makeup, brushed my teeth and went to the bank and withdrew five hundred dollars so that each of the five men will get what they deserve.

I can hardly express how great this feels.  To be honest, they probably should have received more, and I might do that at some time, but for now I need to avoid going all unfrugal and begin to spend, spend and spend.  I am taking a friend, the one who had a biopsy last week, out for lunch tomorrow to celebrate that she does not have cancer.  Two super great things in one day.

Life is nice.