A Poem About Poverty and a Rally Cry to My Neighbors

Together

Visit the lights and glamor of New York or LA –
I’m somewhere hidden in the middle – in the America you won’t see.

Week after week, paycheck to paycheck –
I’m one car repair, one medical bill away from disaster.

I mercilessly cling to cruel reality with the whitest knuckles.
Don’t let me fall – parachutes don’t exist in these parts.

I bundle up my flesh and bones –
winters and bare cupboards in the North are awfully cold.

Food or shelter? I can’t afford both. In the richest country in the world,
it’s a fight for survival. We shouldn’t have to choose.

My struggle doesn’t define me but my pride won’t help me here.
Reach out or go without.

Help doesn’t trickle down from above.
We’re on our own. It’s us on the ground helping each other.

To the outside, we’re only a statistic
but we see the people – our neighbors and friends, our city.

We talk. We share our resources.
Grab a hold of the lifeline we created. We’ll lift each other up.

Get a free meal at the library. Visit the food pantry at our kids’ school.
Feed our bellies – and also our minds.

I have hope that this isn’t forever.
This is our community, our home – we’ll make it a better place.

Throw us a rope and resurrect our purpose.
Our dreams are buried under decades of greed but we’ll reclaim our future.

As Americans, but more importantly, as humans,
we are in this together. 

  • A mom from Toledo, Ohio USA

What do you do when you realize you’re the problem?

Let me set the scene – I spent my drive to work this morning nervously watching the gas gauge in my car because I don’t have money to buy gas until Friday. Problems with my family are still weighing heavy on my mind and I keep getting sick. So as you can imagine, I was a little on edge when I got to work.

Today I had to work with an obnoxious coworker that always gets under my skin. He likes to brag about his artistic endeavors, which at first, didn’t seem that impressive. I’m always on the defensive when I’m around him trying to think about how I’ll respond when he says this or that.

Today was probably the worst day for me to work with him, but surprisingly, he was actually pretty cool. I was still feeling pretty defensive and unfortunately, I bragged about my own work as an artist – something I said I would never do at work. The program I work in is not the place for that.

What happened? Today, I was the obnoxious one. Was I always the obnoxious one? Was it never him and always just a battle in my head?

As this coworker talked, I realized he’s actually done more than I thought. Maybe he actually knows what he’s talking about, which now has me questioning, do I know as much as I think I know? 

I’m a little embarrassed but it made me see that it’s time for me to take a breath and let my guard down. I don’t need to compete with anyone – especially at work. 

To top it off, I hurt my back moving art supplies this morning.

Arg. I can’t wait to go to bed and wake up to a new day. I think I learned my lesson.

Have you ever been in this situation? When you have a problem with someone else and then realize it might have been you all along?

Is traveling important to you?

Are you as restless as me? I have a serious itch to just get away.

I was fearless when I was younger and had many great adventures. I wanted to go everywhere. I even studied abroad for a year. Things were much easier then considering I wasn’t footing the bill.

Now I’m an adult with a family, job, bills, and responsibilities. I also have crippling anxiety. The last time I was on a plane was when my husband and I got married in Vegas over thirteen years ago. Like many Americans, I don’t even own a passport. A vacation to us is a weekend road trip to maybe a state or two away. 

I’m stuck in place in a routine, and most of the time, that’s okay. 

But this past week I’ve been sitting in my living room painting canvases and binge-watching House Hunters International. Have you ever seen that show? It follows people who are moving abroad and looking for a home. It is so fascinating. It’s just this short little glimpse into life in other places and I can’t get enough of it. I’m not gonna lie – I wish it was me buying a house in a foreign country. I want that kind of excitement in my life. I will sit there all day painting and watching people buying homes abroad. My husband thinks it’s a nice break from the true crime shows I like to watch.

My mental health issues make travel challenging. My anxiety is overwhelming and the stress can trigger a number of other symptoms. But still, I really want to go somewhere – everywhere. I’ve done so much in life despite my mental illness. I shouldn’t let it stop me now. 

Money is a huge concern so I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. But it’s still okay to dream, right?

Is traveling important to you? Where do you want to go? Does traveling make you anxious?

Fellow creatives, is it ever okay to be a sellout?

Like most people in these challenging times, my husband and I have been struggling financially. I only work part-time and I’m looking for extra ways to make some cash. Finding a second job outside the home is out of the question due to schedules and childcare costs, so my best bet is finding some side gigs.

I recently published a post declaring my renewed love of art, and I’ve been spending a lot of time painting – both at work and at home. (I work for an arts program.) I have painted several flowers and people have been encouraging me to sell them. 

The thing is, I prefer to paint weird, creepy things – you know, trees with eyeballs. When I first became interested in art, I never thought about selling anything. I wanted to tell my story. To me, art is about expression and experimentation, not painting something pretty so it will sell. 

But now I am motivated by money and I’ve spent the last week painting flowers. 

My husband seems a little disturbed by it – he told me so tonight on the way to pick up our daughter from daycare. He even mentioned the term “sellout”.He suggested that I continue being weird and maybe that will sell as well. 

I have fun painting flowers but it has no meaning to me. It’s not very personal. That’s not what art is to me. But on the other hand, people around me think they will sell. 

What do you think? Do I paint some meaningless flowers to make some money? Or do I stay true to myself and keep my paintings creepy and weird?

On a side note – all of my paintings are finger paintings. I have muscle tremors in my hands from a medication I take and using a paintbrush feels impossible. When I press my fingers directly on the canvas, I feel I have a little more control. It seems like a disadvantage but a couple of people have suggested it might be an interesting selling point.

Interesting? Maybe. Painting with shaky fingers has some serious limitations but I am proud of myself for painting anyway. 

Are you a trusting person?

I used to be bubbly and cheerful to everyone I met. I saw the good in people. Was I just young and dumb?

Now I’m guarded. My smile isn’t quite as big and I enter new relationships with caution. Did that come with age? Did that come from pain?

Did you ever notice a change like that in yourself? Were you more trusting when you were younger?

A few years ago I was mentally and emotionally abused by a client at work. The abuse went on for eleven months before the client was finally kicked out of our program. I thought once the client was gone I would be fine, but I wasn’t. I was diagnosed with PTSD and went through several months of therapy. 

I am doing much better now but nothing has been the same since. You just never know what a person is capable of.

I recently experienced betrayal in my family which once again brought my trust issues to the forefront. 

We have all seen the good and bad in people. No one is purely good and no one is strictly bad but the bad definitely gets more attention.

But lately, I feel like I attract people who do harm — like I’m an easy target for narcissists. Do I do something wrong? Do you ever feel that way?

I am a resilient person and generally have a good attitude about most other things. I’m quiet but kind. I know if I always let the bad overshadow the good, I might miss out on getting to know some genuinely nice and caring people.

But how do I let my guard down? What do you do when you’re afraid to trust people? Will it get better with time? Or worse?

I’ve got to be honest – I’m angry at the people who made me feel this way.

I have been seeing a therapist weekly for about a year now and my blog is in no one a replacement for therapy. I know we’re just strangers on the internet but I absolutely love throwing questions your way. You guys always have such thoughtful responses.

Can you relate? Do you have trust issues? How do you deal with it?

A Secular Childhood: Letters to My Daughter – No. 33 “Empathy”

Dear daughter,

Yesterday you won an award at school for empathy, and I am not surprised at all. You are so considerate of others and you absorb everything around you. Even before you went to school, your empathy was noticed at daycare. When another kid was struggling, you drew them pictures to cheer them up. Everyone at the daycare thought it was the sweetest thing.

You even pick me flowers when I’m sad.

Being able to show compassion and understanding is a skill not everyone possesses that will serve you well throughout your life.

There’s one thing I’ve noticed about your upbringing that really differs from mine years ago. As a child, my focus was achievement. Good grades. Winning competitions. Excelling in extracurriculars, etc. It was always a huge blow when I didn’t measure up. As an adult, I now see there are more important things and I’m still trying to work past my “achievement” mindset.

But you’re different. You focus on character. Daddy and I try not to push you too hard into activities. We want you to get good grades but we’re not going to be angry if you don’t. As far as I’m concerned, the award you received for empathy is a huge honor – bigger than test scores or a ribbon on field day – and I couldn’t be prouder.

I don’t think there was an award for empathy when I was growing up, but there should have been.

You have a talent for connecting with others and I want to support and encourage you as much as possible but my biggest fear is that the world will harden you and turn you cold. I see you feel other’s pain and that’s a heavy weight to carry.

Hopefully, that’s way down the road yet. Continue being that sweet and caring first grader for as long as possible.

Daughter, don’t ever forget you have a beautiful heart and mind. You learn so much from the people you meet and they will learn from you as well. You have so much to offer the world.

A Couple of New Poems about Death and Family

Even with everything going on this week I was still able to crank out a couple of poems — and I’m pretty proud of them. Sorry, they’re a bit depressing.

 

The Conclusion

It’s unforgiving and final –
the conclusion of your story.
You hope to slip into the darkness
unscathed and ready
but our end is unpredictable.

Each day brings you closer to your goodbyes –
if a goodbye can even be said at all.
Your memory lingers at first
but time passes and everyone must move on
without you.

Savor every connection a little more
because your demise is always just around the corner.
Not every finale is grand
but we all end up the same –
crumbling into nothingness.

Say what you need to say
before the silence
and don’t look back
because your countdown
has already begun.

 

Little


I’m little
in your eyes –
forever beneath you.

Control me,
silence me
as you always have.

My little voice
is unwelcome –
my words mean nothing.

My little existence means nothing
if it doesn’t make you
look good.

When I stand up
you assume
I want to fight.

I just want to be heard,
considered,
accepted.

Sitting at your table
takes more than blood.
Stay complacent.

Tolerate stinging judgment.
Keep the peace
no matter the cost.

But the cost was
my presence
and now I’m no longer little.

A Funeral and Religious Service – A Day of Firsts for My Daughter

My husband’s grandfather died last weekend. He was in his 90s and he was aware that he was dying. He lay in hospice for several days before finally passing. It was unbearable to watch. I hope that when I die – especially if I know I’m dying – it goes a little quicker than that. 

At first, we weren’t going to take our six-year-old daughter to visit him in hospice, but one night he specifically asked for her so we brought her the next day. She was a little freaked out but she sat on the floor and drew him a picture. She showed it to him and it was very sweet.

The funeral is tomorrow and my husband and I both agree she should be there with the rest of the family. This really isn’t her first funeral, but it will probably be the first one she actually remembers. She was still a baby when my stepmother and grandmother died. 

This will also be her first religious service. My husband’s family is Lutheran – the conservative kind. (Eek!)

Part of me hopes our daughter will be curious and ask us lots of questions, but the other part of me knows she’s going to be bored and ask to play with my phone.

Any advice on making this a meaningful/educational experience for my daughter? Or is six still too young to understand?

Am I letting myself go? Or does age set you free?

Is there a certain age when you just stop caring? I turned forty back in November, so I’m not old but not exactly young either. It just feels like I’ve changed a lot – and rather recently.

Am I letting myself go?

I roll out of bed at the very last minute and sometimes I even drop off my daughter at school with wet hair. I wear jeans and hoodies almost every day and I really hate putting on make-up. Even if I start the day with my hair down, it usually ends up in a ponytail. Maybe I should try to look nicer but I don’t care enough to do anything about it.

Why am I even concerned? Actually, this is probably more of an observation than a concern.

It wasn’t too long ago that I wouldn’t dare leave the house without a full face of make-up and styled hair. My morning routine took well over an hour. Cute outfits were a must for every occasion – I’m talking even going to Wal-Mart here. A relative once told me it’s good to look polished and I really took that to heart. Maybe I looked nice but at the time I always felt ugly. I was in competition with every other woman in the room.

So what changed? I really don’t know.

I’m married and a mom so maybe looks aren’t as important now, but it really feels more recent that I let myself go. Is it an age thing?

My priorities have shifted a little. Obviously, my daughter always comes first, but as an individual, I would rather be recognized for my art and writing than my looks. Not to mention my job in the supportive arts program – sometimes there’s just as much paint on me as the canvas…and sometimes I’m proud of that.

None of this stops me from feeling self-conscious. Even so, I just don’t feel like dressing any nicer. Putting in the effort feels a little pointless and quite frankly, I’m tired of it.

I was obsessed with looks. Is forty the age when I finally found some freedom?

I would love to hear from you guys. How do you feel about your looks and your age? Did you let yourself go? Does it even matter? Did it ever matter?

Just for the record – I know my relative meant well but I will never tell my daughter that she has to look polished.

Are atheists more health-conscious than believers?

I recently talked with a religious person who said they wouldn’t take medication. They just “let the body do what it needs to.”

I think my head exploded. I was completely flabbergasted but tried my best not to show it. 

If something’s broken and you can fix it, why wouldn’t you want to fix it? Leaving it in god’s hands just isn’t enough for me.

My life would be completely different if wasn’t for medication. My job, my family, my goals, all the things that I do — none of it would be possible without medication.

They may put their faith in god but I put my faith in science every morning and night as I take a cocktail of psych meds. I have schizoaffective disorder and can’t function without medication. I am very grateful to science and medicine for giving me a good life and a bright future.

I just can’t imagine being against that.

I often credit atheism as a factor in my success in recovery. I rejected faith soon after my diagnosis. I trust science and my doctor which keeps me med-compliant.

Going to the doctor and accepting medical treatment — not just for my mental illness but for my whole body — is how I choose to stay well.

A while back I wrote a post about atheist vegetarians. There just seem to be a lot of them. Does being a vegetarian make you more health-conscious? I don’t know but a lot of people think so.

If you have just this one life and death is final, do you take better care of yourself? I can’t help but think that trusting science and medicine will keep you well longer. If you’re not counting on an afterlife, wouldn’t you want to be living your best life now?