Tag: support

It matters to me. So I’m just going to say it.

When I was a kid, my mom had a friend with a daughter who was just awful. She was rude, bratty, mean, and selfish. We would often have playdates while our moms visited. It was always exciting and anxiety ridden. This little girl had EVERY toy. It was kid heaven. Unfortunately, her mom took a firm stand on the “I’m not going to force my kid to share if she doesn’t want to. Adults don’t have to share, so why do we make kids?” belief. (I would like to add that I do not make my children share things that are important or special to them. If that’s your favorite toy, offer them another one. Set your boundaries, but still be kind an inclusive.) So we would go to this kids house and she would not let us touch anything. Or she would give us crappy, broken toys.

She was also super nasty to my little sister. Try to scare her with things, make fun of her, give her things and take them away, etc. My sister would cry and she would straight up lie about what happened. I would watch this happen. Sometimes I would tell what really happened, but she usually had an excuse and then would act out on me. So I would just ignore it. I wasn’t looking to have that nastiness aimed at me. I seemed to have worked my way into the “I guess you can play with some stuff” arena. And I was going to keep that going. We would tell our mom in the car about how mean she was, and our mom would comfort us and tell us that she is glad we weren’t mean and selfish.

Then, one day, my little sister wasn’t playing with us. I don’t remember why. Sick? Sleeping? Gone? Whatever the reason, I was the “little one” then. I’m sure you can guess what that meant for me. She spent the visit terrorizing me. Not to the extent of my sister, since I was older, but enough to leave me in tears, wanting to go home.

There are a lot of times in life that we see injustice done and we continue to let it happen because it’s not directly affecting us. Racism. Classism. Sexism. Homophobia. Abuse. We know these things. We may even talk about them amongst ourselves in agreement that they’re wrong. But how often do we put ourselves out there when these things happen? If little kid Bethy had loudly took a stand against that bully, to my mom as it was happening, then maybe some change could have happened. Yes, being validated though conversation is a good thing. But it doesn’t solve the problem. There may be a day when that problem becomes your own. Will just you want someone to agree with you and carry on with life? Or will you want them to actively take a stand on your behalf?

While there are many examples of this in life, there is one that has been weighing on me. After talking to my husband about it, I decided that it’s something I should share publicly.

I am bisexual.

“You’re married to a man, so who cares?” I care. The bisexual community cares.

There are a few in my life know this. A lot that do not. Up until now, I didn’t think it was relevant to share. I always thought, “If I ever fall in love with a woman, then I will come out. What’s the point of causing issue if it’s not necessary?”

One of the most difficult things is trying to explain bisexuality to someone who thinks they know, and doesn’t care to learn.

When I was 15/16 I was working a Greek restaurant. There was this teenage girl that would come in on a regular basis. She was beautiful, funny, sweet, and every time I saw her I would get butterflies and my face would turn red. It was very confusing since I was raised very “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve”. I had crushes on famous females growing up. Clarissa was SO PRETTY AND COOL AND FUNNY. But just thought it must be that I admired them. Wanted to be like them. I wasn’t attracted to my female friends, and I did like boys. So I am definitely straight. Right? That teenage girl flooded me with confusion. Am I GAY?

After almost 20 years, I now understand what is misunderstood by most. Bisexuality is not turning on or off gayness or straightness. It is it’s own thing. I am attracted to and have the capacity to love both male and females. I am not straight just because I am married to a man. And the woman I’ve romantically been with didn’t make me gay. I am consistantly attracted to both genders. Not constantly, like some believe. Consistantly. Being bisexual does not mean I am going to run off with a woman or that I want a polygamist relationship. If you can be a straight person who is married, and see an attractive person of the opposite sex without feeling the urge to run off, you should be able to comprehend that I can be attracted to woman but be married to man. It’s the same exact thing. Commitment is specific to the person, not their sexual orientation.

I feel like a coward. Because I’m married to a man, I have the option to never tell anyone. I can sit here living as a straight person and it wouldn’t affect me in the slightest. I can discuss inequality and the rights of the LGBT community, but I can do it from a safe place of observation. I don’t have make people uncomfortable. I can ignore when people make homophobic jokes because they are not aware they of that aspect of me. Cowardice.

As I watch the rights of the LGBT community being chipped away, I am faced with the reality of my complacency. I talked to my husband about it, “what if something happened to you? And years from now I met a woman and fell in love with her? How many other woman are out there just like me, who find a woman instead of a man and are terrified to be with them because of the direction our country is taking? I feel like I need to come out. It seems silly since you’re a man and I’m not dating anymore. But I feel like I’ve turned my back on the LGBT community. I feel like my ‘I’ll come out if I have to’ approach is the same as saying I don’t want to have to suffer unnecessarily at the hands of bullies, so I’m going to sell off a part of my self to keep things nice for ME. I feel selfish.”

Like being little kids playing with that bully. I didn’t want to rock the boat. I felt bad, and even spoke out about things. But I liked not being the target and it ate at me not doing the right thing.

This post feels very anticlimactic. Because there’s nothing life changing for me. I am still exactly who I am. Learning this about me won’t change my relationships with you unless you change it. Will I get backlash? Oh I’m pretty sure. My kids have shared some of the things they’ve heard adults say about the gay community. About them going to hell. About them being disgusting. About how people should have the right to discriminate against them. My kids have come to me upset that there are adults that say such awful hateful things, while I have raised them to understand that love is love. There are different kinds. And no one’s love looks the same. I have told them that if they or any of their friends ever came out, I would protect and defend them from anyone who said hateful things.

I am bisexual. It does not affect my life as my life is now. But denying or ignoring this aspect of my life supports those who are trying to associate homosexuality with shame. And I refuse to feel shame about this aspect of who I am.

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

Some people are more equal than others.

Ideas are like seeds being planted in your mind. We don’t always have control of the seeds that are throw to us, but we do have control of the soil. In this way, we get to decide how our garden will grow. Manicured and simple. Full of poison and thorns. Wild and unknown. A labyrinth. Filled with food. We decide based on what we pull out and what we nurture. How much effort we’re willing to put in and the people we put ourselves around, who are throwing seeds. How acidic the soil is, and what trees we have growing from the past. Try as you might, the soil below a large pine will not allow you to grow certain plants below it.

A couple weeks ago I saw a post on Facebook. My Facebook is pretty diverse when it comes to religion, politics, and life choices. So very often I see things I don’t agree with. So that was no surprise. What has surprised me is how much I keep thinking about it. See, I have been spending a lot of time lately pulling weeds. Uprooting trees. I have been working on my soil to help things grow. That seed that was planted? That seed has been thrown on my soil before. But it dried up. So when I saw it thrown my direction again, I anticipated the same result. But my soil isn’t the same. My soil is rich with nutrients. And that seed took root and is growing. So now I’m forced to acknowledge this plant growing. I have to decide whether to pull it up or water it.

“We must do away with the absolutely specious notion that everybody has to earn a living….” Buckminster Fuller

The post I read was the full quote. But within the first sentence I knew I disagreed. I’m a hard worker, and I was raised to take pride in my work. You don’t work you don’t eat. The story of The Ant and the Grasshopper made a brief appearance in my mind. You cannot live your life playing and then expect those working to support you. Teaching a man to fish verses giving him a fish.

“We keep inventing jobs because of this false idea that everybody has to be employed at some kind of drudgery. Because, according to Malthusian-Darwinian theory, he must justify his right to exist.”

Justify his right to exist? I wouldn’t go that far. And we may invent some jobs, but I would say we Americans spend more time creating more “all ready invented” jobs. During our last election this was a huge thing. With the worry of unemployment and layoffs, I heard a LOT of people talking about job creation. There aren’t enough jobs and people need to work to support their families.

I also thought about work ethic. Working a less-than-desirable job definitely gives you appreciation for hard work and a lot of humility. If people didn’t work, how would they experience the struggle that has helped me form into who I am? What do they say about Idle Hands?

Then I started thinking about if I had my necessities met. Just my necessities. A place to live, food to eat, heating/cooling and electric, and health care for my children and me. What would I be doing? I would be home with my kids. I would be homeschooling them. I would have a chore chart. I would be maintaining a garden and teaching my kids with hands on lessons of cooking and animals and science experiments. I would still be working, but not as much. And the money I made from work would be invested in my kids, our home, and myself. The money would be used for house repairs, a vehicle, internet access, and travel. I would take another trip to do humanitarian work. I would take art classes. I would do more with theatre. I would read more. I would learn a language with my kids (they have been begging for us to all learn German as a family). I would help my kids learn what they love. What their gifts are. What their passion is.

Quick detour. Have you ever met someone and thought, how are you so successful? Like, they really have nothing to offer. Mediocre intelligence. Very limited world view. No talent. And yet, they are making over 10X what you make. I remember one guy in particular. He was always so impressed by how smart I seemed “considering I don’t have a degree.” He would tell me, “If you went to college, you could be way more successful. You have so much potential! It’s sad you’re working at a coffee shop when you could probably do my job better than me, ha!”

We all have different goals. My goal is not wealth. Rags to Riches stories, while interesting, don’t motivate me. While I appreciate my material things, they are disposable. I asked myself, if I had my needs met, what would be something I would work extra for in order to obtain? Travel. Art. Learning new things. Humanitarian work.

What if our needs were met. Just the basic ones. We would still have those who wanted to be rich. We would still have those who were lazy. We would still have to work. The difference is, we would be allowed to decide. If you wanted a huge house and lots if things, you could choose to work more. If you decide you would rather live modestly so you could be home with your kids, you could do that. But what about the freeloaders who wont work? Well. If they want that kind of poor, meaningless life, so be it. What does it matter to you? I mean, I’m not talking steak dinners and mansions. Food in the cupboard, a warm house, and freedom from/treatment for disease just means the rest of society is protected.

What would happen if those with actual talent could explore it? What would happen if all that “potential” could be met? What would happen if someone’s intelligence outweighed someone’s financial circumstance?

What would happen? We would thrive. Good parents would still instill work ethic in their children. Bad parents would still neglect it. Caring people would still want to help others. Selfish people would still take all they can get. The difference is, we would all have a choice. Ask a poor person if they have a choice right now. Ask them how many jobs they work and what they have to sacrifice so their kids don’t starve. Ask them about how expensive it is to be poor.

I am not against capitalism. I want our inventors to invent. I want our artists to create. I want every person to be able to listen to that gift they have and embrace it. We are all given certain passions inside of us. Animals. Children. Writing. Botany. Technology. Music. Cars. Every single person has something that pumps them up for life.

“The true business of people should be to go back to school and think about whatever it was they were thinking about before someone came along and told them they had to earn a living.”

How different things would be if we ran our Healthcare System and education system like a non-profit. If no one could get rich off the sick. If the poor had the same educational opportunities as the rich without having to join the military. If every family knew they had a house, electric, and food.

I can’t count the amount of times in my life I have said, “pull yourself up by your bootstraps”. Then, when the time came in my life that I needed to practice what I preached, I reach down for my boot straps only to find that someone found a way to make money off boot straps and had hiked the price up to make money off of my struggle.

We have been taught that the poor deserve their lot in life. And that the rich deserve their wealth. Why? Because admitting that the poor don’t have a choice and that we’re allowing others to profit off their suffering is a hard pill to swallow. We have to admit that while we say all are equal, we have been conditioned to feel superior to the poor. We have been told our stability is earned by hard work and therefore the poor must be lazy. If we acknowledge how much of an advantage having our basic needs met makes, then we are faced a choice. Continue to treat the poor as inferior, or work for change and equality. The seeds have been planted. You decide if you will let them grow.

Ignorance is Bliss…er…Business 

“No body owes you anything. If you want something, work for it.” 

I agree with this. If you’re waiting for someone to rescue you, or wanting to just relax your way through life, you’re going to be thoroughly disappointed. 

That being said, I’m not heartless. Sometimes things happen and we Americans have the ability (and in my opinion, the duty) to help someone. A lot of times, I hear fear about allowing too much welfare help. The fear being that those on welfare will become content in their lifestyle and leech off of the hard working Americans (middle class) while having no intent to ever rise above. 

So here are a few scenarios I think most people can support or relate to. (Read and answer to yourselves. I could be wrong!)
Scott has 3 children. He has custody of all 3. He works 2 jobs trying to make enough to support them, but needs some help with childcare because it is so expensive.

Should there be a program to help him? 

Chad has 2 kids he has custody of. He’s been employed at the same job for 3 years, but due to some cuts at the company he works for, his hours were cut in half. He is looking for a second job, but needs to be able to feed his kids. 

Should Chad get food assistance? 

Brett’s wife of 15 years, Mary, makes 65K a year. Brett has spent the last 8 years staying home with their 3 kids and taking care of the household. He finds out Mary has been cheating and she wants a divorce. 

Should Mary pay spousal support as well as child support? Should Brett qualify for government assistance until he can find a job?

Larry, husband and father, has been working at the same company for 20 years. He recently was laid off and is having a difficult time finding a job. 

Should Larry get unemployment? Should he qualify for food assistance and Medicaid? 

Steve had an injury which caused him to lose his job. He is well now, and wanting to get back into the job market. The problem is, he has no phone or internet and cannot afford the bill for either until he gets a job. He can use the internet at his local library, but wants to have a phone number to leave on his applications. 

Should we help Steve get a phone? 

Todd’s wife, Amanda, died unexpectedly. They were young, so their life insurance policy only covered funeral expenses. Without her income, Todd cannot afford their mortgage. He soon finds the house will be foreclosed. He has 2 small children and needs to find a place to live while he adjusts to his new life as a single dad. 

Should there be housing help for him? 

Those sound like good men. Trying to support their kids. Trying to contribute to society. I think most would say that it would be an investment to help these guys out. 

Now. Sub in the name Trevon and/or Ladonna. Seriously. Scroll up and reread them with only the name change. This isn’t going to work if you don’t.

I’m not in your head. You are. So be honest with yourself. Where do you imagine they work? Did the company/line of work they were in change from the first time you read it? Do you believe they are contributing to society? Do you assume the kids have different mothers/fathers? Do you assume they have no desire to strive for a better life? Do you feel like they are leeching? Is your gut response to withhold help? Do you feel it’s a waste of tax dollars?

When you hear people talk about racism, THIS is what we’re talking about. This is white male privilege. That purely being a white male means that people will initially assume the best. You are worth investing in. 

You are not against welfare. You are against minorities receiving help from government programs. You have been conditioned your entire life to have these knee jerk responses. I have them too. I have to CONSCIOUSLY decide to not feed into them. 
Years ago I had a conversation about a woman and that was the moment I realized my white privilege. 

Her: She has 3 kids with 2 different guys. But That’s how they do it in Benton Harbor. They have kids with whoever just so they can get the benefits.

Me: Oh. You mean like me? I’m from Benton Harbor. I have 3 kids by 2 different guys. Heck, my youngest’s dad is married. And I get food stamps. 

Her: No no no. Thats not what I meant. You’re a hard worker! You made a mistake. You’re doing what’s best for your kids! You are am amazing mother. It’s temporary for you! 

Me: And why isn’t it temporary for her? What makes her a lost cause?

Her: No. You’re misunderstanding. I know you’re a good person. But she is from a culture that encourages living off hard working Americans. 

Me: So if you didn’t know me, you would assume the same thing as you are with her? That I was lazy and lookimg for free stuff by having kids?

Her: No no no. That’s not what I’m saying. I can tell you’re a hard worker! You do anything for your kids. You are using the welfare system for what it was set up for, to get yourself on your feet again! 

Me: And I’m white. 

Her: *uncomfortable* 

Me: She’s black. 

Her: I’m not racist. It’s a cultural thing. That’s just how they live in Benton Harbor. 

No. That is racism.  That poor woman has to work 10X as hard as me in life. She will be assumed to be lazy, and a leech everywhere she goes. You will sit there and make mental (or verbal) judgements on whether or not you believe she is worthy of help. She will have to pay the same taxes as you. She will have to work the same amount of hours as you. But you will know, that you are more deserving of every break you get in life. And your attitude toward her is just a form of “tough love”. Her hard work doesn’t count because her culture encourages laziness. That has to be what it is. 

You will talk to others like you, and set imaginary goals for this woman. “If she really cared about her kids, she would get a degree.” But offer no way for her to obtain a defree. “She should get an additional job. If she put her nose to the grindstone, she could rise above.” But condemn her for leaving her children or for asking for a raise. Any hardship she has is deserved. You are punishing her for not being a white man like you. 

Are you really against food assistance? Or are you against the woman who “obviously” just having babies to live off the state. Are you against housing help, or are you against the black guy who probably just works at a fast food place part time and should just work harder if he wants a place to live. 

You Are not against welfare. If you were in any of these positions, you would feel completely justified in using government assistance “for it’s intended purpose”. To get back on your feet. But if it’s a minority, you are immediately skeptical on their motives. Ask yourself WHY. Why do you feel you need or are entitled to an explanation for anyone’s reasons? Why do you feel you get to be a judge on whether someone deserves to eat or have medical care? 

And just throwing this out there. “Getting back on your feet” is not the intended purpose of the welfare system. The intended purpose is to make sure that the lowest income people in our country have their basic needs met. It’s to have a lower class that is fed, housed, and medically well. The basics. Because some cannot rise above some imaginary line you’ve drawn in your head to indicate success. Some will always work sweeping floors, cleaning toilets, or serving fast food. And they should still have heat. And their kids deserve to have full stomachs. The value of a life is not determined by annual income. 

You have been lied to. You have been told your whole life that you are superior and deserve what you have because you  a hard worker and they are not. So who is telling you these lies? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not the lower class…and it’s not the middle class…you guessed it! The top 1%. They want you to be mad at those who “leech off the system” so you don’t notice them…leeching off the system. Does a black man, who works at a grocery store, getting $1500 worth of food  a year piss you off? What about a white man getting a $30mil tax break? Smart businessman?

Do not tell me that racism doesn’t exist. Say what you really mean. I don’t care that racism exists because it benefits me. Don’t tell me you don’t see color. Say what you mean. I don’t want to acknowledge others are treated differently because then I have to change my internal dialogue. Don’t tell me you care about the poor. Say what you mean. They are poor because they deserve it. 

You’re Allowed to Make Mistakes Once You’re 30

I’m very pregnant right now. I have less than a week until my due date. So, pretty much everything I do and think about at this point is baby or birth related. So I decided I wanted to talk about a perception I had during this pregnancy.

My first daughter, like this current pregnancy, was unplanned. I touched on my choice to have her at 19 in http://wp.me/p4Wgjj-1S Well, little did I know that a few months after writing that blog, I would be facing that guillotine again. Only this time it was different. I was not 19, I was 30. And I wasn’t just starting my adulthood, I was well into it.

At 19, the thought of having a baby is scary. It’s life changing. But I knew I could do it. There was a certain amount of naivete that kept me positive and strong in my choice. At 30, that naivete was gone. I knew exactly what having a baby was going to be like. I knew how tired I would be. I knew everything I would have to give up. It was devastating.

I cried a lot. I can’t do this. I thought about abortion. If I just did it soon, it would be fine….no. I can’t do it. I knew I was just being a coward. I knew I would love the baby. I knew I would be a great mom for it. I knew a year from then I would not be able to live with myself and that choice. Adoption? I could find a family that needs a baby. I could just tell people I was a surrogate. Nope. I know myself too well. I know I am capable, and that I would regret it. So, begrudgingly, I accepted that I was going to have my 4th child.

Why was it so much harder this time? I am older, more stable, and already a mom. You would think a scared 19 year old would have more inner turmoil than a 30 year old. Then I started thinking about people. Their thoughts, their opinions, their advice. There it is. I didn’t want to go through that again. The judgement. The unsolicited advice. Being treated as if you’re walking around with a scarlet letter. I was too exhausted in life to have to deal with that again. Nineteen year old Beth had no problem telling people to fuck off, and just keep living. Thirty year old Beth was not nearly as willing to burn bridges, and cared a lot more for formed relationships.

People can be assholes. I’m guessing that my loud personality and blunt attitude makes people feel it’s ok to say things that they normally wouldn’t say to someone. Maybe they think I won’t care, that I have a thick skin. Whatever the reason, I have MANY times in life had people say hurtful, mean, and insulting things to me without feeling they were out of line.

So, I braced myself for the backlash. Mentally rehearsing what I would say when unkind and even rude words were spoken. Then I waited. Nothing. I waited some more. Still nothing. Every person I told I was pregnant to met me with excitement and encouragement. I was not prepared for that.

I started thinking about 19 year old Beth again. Why were people so harsh? I had people tell me I was selfish and wrong for having a baby. I was told I was ill equipped to be a mother and that it was a sin for me not to give the baby up. I had people go out of their way to make sure I KNEW they refused to go to my baby shower because they didn’t agree with my choice. Then, after she was born, I had nasty looks. People questioned EVERYTHING I did. I had a nurse grab my daughter out of my arms while rolling her eyes at me and making comment about, “young moms”.

This bothers me more now than it did 12 years ago. While going through it, I just pushed through, raised my child, and didn’t give these people a second thought. I didn’t realize how much that really stuck with me. I didn’t know, years later, I would be in the same circumstance and the thought of that hardship would make me consider giving my baby up.

Why do we do this to young adults? We punish them for choosing differently. Not just with babies. With all life choices. We sit there passing judgment and withholding empathy and kindness for what? To teach them a lesson? Here’s the thing folks, I already decided at 19 to have the baby. I was trying so hard to take responsibility for a choice and do what I felt was best. The best lesson you can teach a young adult in that situation is kindness. I didn’t expect anyone to take on the responsibility for me. Just kindness. Instead, I was taught that people are assholes and will make your life harder when you don’t do things their way. Then, years later, that lesson came back to me like a wave of panic.

We have to stop doing this. You don’t like the current generation? Get over it. You don’t agree with how they’re learning adulthood? That’s too bad for you. There is a difference between being kind and enabling someone. You don’t want to enable them? Ok. Then tell me, if that 20 year old was 30, would you still respond the same way? If you’re purposely being harsher to a young adult because “they need to learn”, then you are an asshole. The lesson you are teaching them is that they are not allowed to make mistakes while learning to be a grown up. Which we all know is bullshit. That is the ONLY way we learn. Through experiencing life and finding solutions to problems we put ourselves in.

Our young adults should feel like they can come to us for advice, not judgement. They will learn and excel into the adult world so much quicker with support and trust than with harshness and abandonment. You want to complain about millennials, but offer no way for them recover and learn from their mistakes. So next time there is a 19 or 20 year old who fucked up in life, remember, you don’t have to tell them. They know. Just tell them they’ll be ok, offer positive insight, and realize that your response is helping form what kind of adult they’re going to be.

I Have Better Balance with a Net

I have written before about my months being “homeless”. For those who haven’t read about my time without a home, I would like to stress, I was not on the street, and it was one of the best experiences of my life. I miss it. I have found myself, for the last few months, trying to recreate those couple months of my life. Only this time, I am trying to do it on my own. It’s not working.

I try to be a problem solver about these type things. I need to figure out why living in someone’s basement, with 3 times the amount of people, only about 10% of my possessions, was more peaceful and encouraging than what I am doing now. I still work the same places. I still have bills. I still have children. What is the variable in all this?

Last week I was talking to my mom. Just normal mother daughter stuff. I was telling her how sick of surviving I was. That I wish I could just go out and take chances and do things. It’s not fair. I was telling her about how I wished I was naive to the world. That I was wished that I could just be stupid. Some people I meet are so dumb, yet so successful. I’ve talked to people before and thought, how do you make so much more than me? You, my friend, are an idiot. Why can’t I just be like that? See, the problem is, I know where I lack. I know there is so much more to things than we originally see. I feel small when I think about how much there is to learn, how much life I have not seen. How complex the inner workings of each human encounter and situation is. It’s overwhelming sometimes. I want to not be self aware. I want to just think I can do something, and be so confident, that everyone around me just believes I can too. How can I just block out the part of me that knows my pit falls?

I told my mom what a Debbie Downer I was. People give me such great solutions, “you should just…. why don’t you just….if I were you I would just….” And I find holes in their logic every time. I sound like I’m making excuses. People assume I am not really looking for a solution. How do I just block out that part of me that dissects every aspect of other’s suggestions? My mom said, you can’t block that out. You don’t have a safety net. Some people have no idea what it’s like to live their life without a safety net.

My mind immediately went into visual mode. I imagined walking on a high wire, with no net. I could feel the anxiety. My pace would be slow and precise. I would be focusing on each step, my breathing, and be preparing myself to squat down and hold the rope if need be. Then I imagined myself doing the same thing with a net. While I would still be trying to keep my balance, I would not have anxiety. I would be watching the finish line, not my feet. My pace would be quicker, and I wouldn’t be concerned with worrying about grabbing on. Worst case, I may have to start again. But I wouldn’t be injured. It would be a set back, but not devastating.

So what does it feel like to not have a net in the real world? Well, first off, you have to assume it’s only you. You can hope for help with things, but never assume. YOU will have to clean, cook, work, drive, plan, tend to the kids, take care of yourself, and make sure things are done in a way you are not setting yourself up for trouble later. Sounds a lot like every day life….except you need to add the anxiety of not having anyone there to help. You need to remember that one little overlook could set you back for a long time. You start saying no to everything. You’re so worried about one foot in front of the other, even if there is something that could help you down the road, you do not have the ability to look up from your own feet. You miss out on things that could help you, or chose not to take risks that would benefit you, because it’s too much of a gamble. You can’t concern yourself with “making the most” of anything. Your job is to just survive and get through it.

Now, add in the spectators. Those who are watching you, and see what you’re missing. Yelling “don’t do that!” Or “I can’t believe you missed that!” Try to block them out. Yes, they have a better view of the big picture. From where they’re standing, they can give all the right advice. But they are not up on the wire with you. They can’t feel how much give is left in it, or how tired or weak you feel. They are not going to catch you if you fall, and you don’t expect them to risk themselves to try to. You just take a step at a time, and rest when you need to.

Now, back to living with the Collins family. It was the first time in years I felt safe. They had given me a net. They didn’t take away had I had to do in life, they simply gave me the ability to not just survive it. Their cheers from below were reminders that if I fell, they would help me back up on the wire. They took the anxiety away. I was able to look up and actually make decisions for my life.

So I’m back without a net. It is what it is. I now know, I need to make my own net. While I was so graciously allowed to borrow theirs for a short time, it is theirs. They need it for their family, and their own life challenges. So that is what I need to do now. I need to take a break from the task at hand and figure out how to make a net for myself and my family, so that I can progress forward in life. What will that net be? Saving money? A higher education? Making connections and finding resources? I don’t know yet. Right now I feel like my task is untangling the knotted material that could be my net. Look at what I have to use, and figure out how to make it work.

For those out there with a net. When you see someone that seems to be struggling with something that seems to have a simple solution, ask yoursef: If I didn’t have my spouse, my savings, my degree, my connections and life experiences, or my plan b, what would I do? If you have the ability to offer your net temporarily, do it. If you can help with the tangled mess they have so they can make their own net, even better.

For those with no net. You are not alone. Don’t ever let others make you feel bad about how your are walking the wire. There are those who see your struggle and want to help. Take one step at a time and rest when you need to. It may seem hopeless, the end may seem too far to ever reach. You may have to just stop, hold on, and cry. Do it. You’re the one up there, you’re the one that knows your limits and all you have to lose if you take a wrong step. And I will try to be a cheerleader for you. I will try to offer a net when I can. You, my friend, have my deepest admiration for having to go through life with the added anxiety and fear others don’t have to experience. You are not weak or stupid. You are stronger and more self aware than most, and you need to know that about yourself.

Choosing to Look at the Guillotine

I have been reading my girls Les Misérables every night before bed. My middle daughter says it’s boring. My oldest says it’s long and confusing. My youngest couldn’t care less.  I read it anyways. I struggle with all the French words, and stop every paragraph or so and explain what it means. I think it’s good for all of us.

We are still reading about the bishop right now. A few days ago, we read about a man sentenced to death for creating counterfeit money. They explain about the shock of seeing the guillotine. “The guillotine is the law made concrete; it is called the Avenger. It is not neutral and does not permit you to remain neutral. Whoever sees it quakes, mysteriously shaken to the core.” This has sat with me. Many things in life, we have no opinion of, or think we do, but don’t know until the moment we see it in front of us. Then, we cannot remain neutral. You know, the moment it is front of you, where you stand and what you believe.

Abortion. (Oh shit Beth. Don’t make this THIS kind of post. I know, I know.) I have heard the debate on both sides. I know people who have had abortions, and I know others who chose not to (myself included). I would like to share my experience, my views, and my thoughts on it.

I knew I could never have an abortion. I made that decision long before I was faced with an unexpected pregnancy. When I saw those 2 lines on that stick, I chucked it in the trash and collapsed to the ground. I sobbed as my roommate tried to comfort me. How could I have been so stupid? What do I say to the dad? I bet he won’t want to be involved.  How do I tell my family? My parents are going to be so pissed. Do I stay in the Air Force? I mean, I would have healthcare, but I would have to put it in daycare at 6 weeks…and what if I deployed? What will it be like to be a mom? I am good with kids…I wonder if it’s a boy or girl.

My mind raced. So, I walked into the doctors, took the blood test, and waited. Still with tears running down my, now very swollen, face. The doctor walked in with a smile. “Congratulations Mama! It was positive!  You’re going to have a baby!” His overly enthusiastic response caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Why was he so freaking happy about it? I’m NINETEEN. I should be looking forward to keggers, not diapers. Then it hit me. I am growing a baby. Holy shit. I have a little me just floating around in there. I took the paper with the results on it and just stared at it.

Well, anyone that has ever been to Tech school in the AF knows, it took about 3 min before everyone found out. Then, I was faced with something I wasn’t prepared for. The unsolicited advice. “That sucks so much! Did you find a clinic to take care of it?” Or “Well, you better get in soon, the bigger it is, the more expensive.” And a lot of, “Do you need me to drive you?” It was expected that I was going to have an abortion. And when I said I wasn’t, I was told I was making a huge mistake. That I would regret it. It was going to ruin my life. I would never find a guy that wanted to take on a woman with a kid. I was throwing away my youth.

Pause. This was my choice. I chose to have the baby. I considered adoption, but chose to keep her. My choice. Do any of you know how hard it was to stand firm in my choice? I had a few select people that supported me. The rest, felt I was making the wrong choice and we’re unsupportive. I kept thinking, if this is my choice, then why aren’t people supportive either way? Then I realized, that at 19, it wasn’t really a choice for most people. They had never sat and made this decision in advance. It was that thing that “would never happen” to them, so when it did, they were so scared and lost that they just did what was expected. And how can you blame them? I was there. I was faced with it. It is fucking scary as hell. I knew I was alone with this. Our society isn’t set up for my choice, only the other choice. If I had to make that decision without any thought about it before hand, I most likely would have had an abortion. Then I got mad. Why the hell aren’t we set up for both choices? Why is it, that having this child means my “life is over”? Why am I treated as if I should be punished for having this child? I’m not saying I thought someone should do all the hard work of parenting for me, but why are things set up to make it impossible? If I were in college, what would I have done? They don’t  allow babies in the dorms. I doubt there is childcare on campus. Shouldn’t we want to educate and help these mothers? Not make things impossible for them?

Abortion will never be illegal. I want to point something out that I didn’t realize until well into my adulthood. An abortion is aborting the pregnancy, not the fetus. You end the pregnancy, which results in the fetus dying if too young to live outside the womb. It needs to stay legal for the fact that some pregnancies become toxic to the mother and child, and without an early delivery, both would die. So we’re not even going to get into that debate if it should be legal or not. I am 100% opposed to partial birth abortion. That is killing. And I do believe doctors should be obligated to try to help a fetus that is born preterm due to an abortion. Aborting pregnancies should be used in cases of fatal risk to the mothers, and the fetus should be treated medically if possible.

So, Prolifers. Here are words for you, from someone who chose life. Being Prolife is more than just making sure someone pops out a kid. Prolife is supporting that life after it is born. Prolife is saying, I am happy you chose to have this baby, and I know it will be hard, but I want to help you. I want to help you find childcare so you can get a degree and support your child. I want to help you find a family to adopt, because you are not in a place to raise a child. I want to give myself, where I can, so you know you are supported. I want to come help you clean, or watch your baby for an hour so you can take a nap. Would you like someone to go with you to the doctors? What do you need?

Prochoicers. You need to educate yourself. If you have sex, you could be faced with this. You need to research embryonic and fetal development. You need to understand what procedures they use. You need to talk to those who have had, and have chose not to have abortions. You need to know the long term risks of cancer, infertility, and infections. I hear so much, it is just a medical procedure. Ok, then know it. You need to research the long term emotional effects. Then, after you have all the medical info, and you understand what will happen, long and short term, you need to imagine yourself looking at 2 lines on a stick. What would you do? Make that choice. You need to make an educated decision now. Not when your hormones and emotions are flying. Not when your girlfriend comes to you in tears, feeling lost and scared. You need to be able to know, that if that time ever came, you don’t have to feel panic or pressure with your choice.

I am Prolife. I am Prowoman. I am not naive. It is legal, and it is a huge money maker. I feel that instead of focusing on making it illegal, we should be instead focusing on educating woman. I have had MANY friends that felt it wasn’t a choice, and they were trapped. They were ignorant to all of it. They had never thought about it before, and their regret was not knowing what to do before hand. They felt conned and lied to about it. We need to be letting these woman actually have a choice. Face the guillotine face on, and refuse to be neutral. We need to know what we would say if a friend came to us and asked us what to do. We need to stop with the hate and judgment, and work on letting to woman in crisis know, she does have a choice. She doesn’t have to feel like her life is over. That this is just a different path, or a speed bump in life that she has to slow down for. And we need our men to know what woman would have to face. We need them to be able to sit with the woman and be able to have an opinion when asked. To not put the burden on the woman to make this decision alone. We need to just take a small amount of time out of our lives, and just know, so we can carry on with life with at least one of the many “guillotines” that we will face, has been seen, and we are no longer neutral.

Yeah, Yeah, I’m so Stong. Like I Have a Choice

Oh, death. We have become far too familiar.  For any of you that didn’t know, my brother died tragically in an accident on February 24, 2015. I sat in my car, reading and rereading the message. I HAVE to be reading this wrong. there is no way. I just saw him at our dad’s funeral just a couple months before. We had just talked on Facebook. This can’t be real. I started shaking and called my mom. We sat together sobbing and holding each other. Is this some kind of sick joke? How much can one family handle? When can the sorrow and pain stop?

I would say, across the board, the response from those in our lives was a pretty consistent, “You have got to be shitting me” followed by, “Are you fucking serious?” with a few, “What. The. Actual. Fuck.” Even our more uptight, conservative friends and family found themselves only able to convey their complete shock without the added profanity. Which I was actually quite grateful for, because seriously. What the fuck.

After the denial was unable to stay, and the overwhelming sadness took a brief break, I found myself angry. Very, very angry. At Matthew, at my dad, at death, and at the world in general. How could they just die? How could they leave us? It’s kind of ridiculous to be angry at the deceased. They didn’t choose it. But I still was. I wanted to yell at my dad for not being here. For leaving right before something so tragic happened. I wanted to yell at him for leaving my mom without her rock. For her to have to grieve this without him. I wanted to yell at my brother for leaving his children. I wanted to scream at him that he was such a jerk for talking with me about coming to Germany to see him and the kids and then leaving before I could. I wanted to cry and yell at them both for dying so close together. I wasn’t done grieving dad, Matthew! He’s suppose to have my grief right now! Not you! I want to be able to grieve Matt, Dad! Why did you have to die first? Now he won’t get the grief he deserves!

Stupid, huh? To be so mad at them? Well, I know it’s not really anger. It’s immense sadness. These were two people I loved dearly. I want their lives to be seen, thought of, and missed individually. I don’t want their deaths to be lumped together. I don’t want them to have to share in this time, even if it’s a horrible time. It SHOULD be separate.

So, after I had my internal emotional temper tantrum, I just accepted it. I say just, but in all reality, this is not an “I just..” type thing. What other choice to you have but to accept it? It’s not like it’s a decision you make. Well, I guess I could opt for going completely crazy, but that being the only alternative kind of decides that acceptance is really the only choice in the matter. So now what? Time to start the grief process over again.

I would like to share with any of you readers a little insight to multiple losses. This is something I was not aware of until the last couple weeks. You are only aloud one large loss a year. More than that, and you will be treated as if you have an infectious disease. For all of my loved ones reading this, please do not take this personal. I do appreciate the support, but it is different. And, I too am guilty of avoidance in similar situations. It just is what it is.

The first loss, you will have an outpouring of support. People will send flowers. They will cook meals. They will accommodate you missing work. They will hold you and tell you, “You grieve however you need to. There is no wrong way.” Then, a small amount of time goes by, and BAM. You’re hit with another death in your family. But this time it’s different. You receive texts, Facebook messages, encouraging photos, and then it’s done. You’re expected to snap back quicker this time. You put a smile on you face, and respond with a well rehearsed, “We’re hanging in there.” or “Yeah, our family has had a lot thrown at us, but we’ll get through.” While you’re really thinking, “I’m not ok and I hate that I have to pretend that we’re all so fucking strong all the time.”

I started wondering why this was. I was very honest about things after my dad died. I would just say, “My kids are late to school because I can’t sleep at night, and when I finally do fall asleep at 3am, my body doesn’t wake up.” and “I can barely remember to brush my teeth in the morning, so I’m sorry I forgot her permission slip, can I have another one?” and “No, I haven’t checked my email. I am overwhelmed and have no desire for human interaction at the moment. Please be patient with me, I am trying to function normally again.” No one want’s to hear that after the second death. Because life goes on. People keep living, and the time allotted to you for grief has expired.

I don’t want people to avoid me. That’s what it comes down to. We hear SO much to “cut the negative out of our life”. I don’t want to be cut out of people’s lives. What a line of horse shit. All those who are “cutting the negative” are cutting out my family and me. We need to cut out the toxic people in our life, yes, but not the negative. Life is so full of positive and negative. People feel uncomfortable around someone who is wounded. I do. I am such a coward. I do not deal well with death, divorce, illness, etc. And it’s not because I don’t care. On the contrary. I hate seeing someone I love or care about hurt, and not know how to fix it. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. So I avoid. And I’m here to tell you, now being on the receiving end of the avoidance, it freaking sucks. So, I act. I change the subject when I can tell my sadness is making the other person uncomfortable. I laugh, and smile, and make jokes as much as I can, so people can feel at ease. It let’s them take a deep breathe and not feel like they need to walk on eggshells around me, and avoid being with me.

People keep saying, “If you need anything, let me know!” Well folks, even though I know that’s just what you say whether you mean it or not, I am going to tell you what I need. I need people to take charge for me. I feel alone, and I want to be with people. I just can’t seem to get my shit together. I need people to let me say stupid stuff without feeling offended. I need to be able to say overly depressing things and not be met with a subject change or you leaving. Most the time, I’ve just been holding it in too long, and it comes out all wrong. I need people to treat me the same as before. For god’s sake. Make jokes with me. Plan things with me and then harass me to death about remembering it, because I will forget. I need you to cut me some slack with, well, everything. I know this is a temporary state I’m in. I’m just trying figure out what and how much I am able to handle. You see, I do like to help. I do like to do things, be in charge of things, and be counted on for things. The problem is, I will be fine one min, and then it all just hits me. I will drop the ball, please just pick it up for me and do not make me feel like a failure. I do not know my limits, and I’m trying so hard to figure them out.

My brother’s death has hit me in a different way than my dad. My dad was involved in my day to day life. My brother was not. So, in that aspect, a lot of my issues have to do with the things my dad did for me that I have to figure out without him. With Matthew, I am able to do my daily duties without the need for him. But I’m still not ok. I now have anxiety attacks almost every day. I get a panic feeling in my stomach when my phone rings. I worry about the other people in my life. What would I do if they died? They could. At any moment. How does everyone else not feel completely helpless about this? Now, logically, I know this is a silly thing to spend time worrying about. 99% of the time, things happen, and we’re ok. How many times do we say, “Whoa! That was close!” It makes me wonder how many times I’ve almost died, and just missed it. I know I cannot live my life with these lingering fears. We can’t dwell on death all the time. None of us would ever get anything done. It is just so prominent in my life right now.

One last thing I would like anyone reading this to do. Just stop. Feel the air around you. Look at your world. Notice the colors, feel the temperature, take a deep breathe, and let yourself just exist for a second. Watch your loved ones move around. Notice their quirks. Memorize their facial expressions. Because you never know when “That was close!” will turn into, “I can’t believe they’re gone.”