My Life as a Refugee -- Day 7
Today is the 7th day without power. I remain in Middle Tennessee. Today I had to get refills of my medications called in because I did NOT think that I would still be here a week after the storm.
I have been making the most of this trip. In the last week I have visited with many of my old friends from high school and am enjoying renewing old friendships. I've also become the owner of a fishing license. We've been fishing every day for the last two days. They won't let you buy JUST a fishing license. So since I HAD TO purchase a hunting license I have decided that before the year is out I will find something to shoot. Small game only...007 I am not.
Last night I had dinner with several old friends. It was the first time I'd seen Adam since the reunion. I had hoped it would be better between us, but it is not. He has zero respect for me and could not resist taking shots about things that are NOT a joking matter. His daughter is beautiful and his wife is expecting daughter number two the end of September. I wish things were better there but until he gets a grip I don't forsee that happening. Seeing Richard & Cherri, Dave McCulley, D'Lo and Stephanie and Brian was delightful though.
I am trying to keep my sense of humor and figure this is God's way of insisting that I take a vacation, but it is frustrating not to know when I will be able to return home. I miss my husband, I miss my friends, I miss my SS kids, I miss David. I miss my own bed and my own routines and being able to stay up til one am to chat online or to blog without my mom telling me it is time to go to bed (as if I was still 15 instead of 35). Oh well. It could be worse. I could be in Memphis with no power.
More from Sparta next time.
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Saturday, July 26, 2003
My Life as a Refugee -- Day 4
Memphis remains without power and I remain in Middle Tennessee. This is day four.
While this trip is fun and has been planned for several weeks, my original date of return was July 28th. We are not going to be returning as planned. My house is still without power and that means I am here, in the town of my childhood, for the forseable future.
Some good things: I had dinner with my cousin tonight. We never get to see one another and we had a wonderful time catching up. Last night was the same, but my dining companions were some friends of mine from high school. Today we spent the morning fishing in the river, my citified daughter's first time...it was a day of firsts for her...after our fishing trip and a quick nap she joined my aunt and uncle for a ride on the lake in their boat. She's never been on a boat before. She came home with my parents late tonight sunkissed and flush with excitment at all her new adventures. I made my usual trip to Walmart today. In a small town such as this, Walmart is the place to see and be seen. True to form I ran into three more of my high school friends and one of my "big sisters" from dad's explorer troop when I was kid. I also got my OWN fishing rod and tackle to go with the fishing/hunting license that I purchased today. I have a HUNTING liscense. I have NEVER had one of those before. I am now determined to make use of it before it expires next year. I do not know what I shall hunt.
The downside: Being in my childhood home has its disadvantages. My parents for one still lapse into treating me as if I were a child, not a mother with a child of my own. I return home and suddenly I am 16 again. It is a puzzlement. But most of all the not knowing is driving me insane. We could have power tomorrow, we could still be without it a week or more from now. I don't deal well with uncertainty.
It is late and I am responsible for two small girls tomorrow. I will close now. Stay tuned to this channel for more updates on my life as a refugee.
Memphis remains without power and I remain in Middle Tennessee. This is day four.
While this trip is fun and has been planned for several weeks, my original date of return was July 28th. We are not going to be returning as planned. My house is still without power and that means I am here, in the town of my childhood, for the forseable future.
Some good things: I had dinner with my cousin tonight. We never get to see one another and we had a wonderful time catching up. Last night was the same, but my dining companions were some friends of mine from high school. Today we spent the morning fishing in the river, my citified daughter's first time...it was a day of firsts for her...after our fishing trip and a quick nap she joined my aunt and uncle for a ride on the lake in their boat. She's never been on a boat before. She came home with my parents late tonight sunkissed and flush with excitment at all her new adventures. I made my usual trip to Walmart today. In a small town such as this, Walmart is the place to see and be seen. True to form I ran into three more of my high school friends and one of my "big sisters" from dad's explorer troop when I was kid. I also got my OWN fishing rod and tackle to go with the fishing/hunting license that I purchased today. I have a HUNTING liscense. I have NEVER had one of those before. I am now determined to make use of it before it expires next year. I do not know what I shall hunt.
The downside: Being in my childhood home has its disadvantages. My parents for one still lapse into treating me as if I were a child, not a mother with a child of my own. I return home and suddenly I am 16 again. It is a puzzlement. But most of all the not knowing is driving me insane. We could have power tomorrow, we could still be without it a week or more from now. I don't deal well with uncertainty.
It is late and I am responsible for two small girls tomorrow. I will close now. Stay tuned to this channel for more updates on my life as a refugee.
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Inconveniences of Modern Life
Do any of us realize how dependant we are upon electricity? We have grown up in an era where it was always avaliable at the flick of the switch on the wall. We take it for granted. Even this method that I use to communicate my thoughts to the ethernet is wholly dependant upon the movement of electrons down wires or cables. Without it EVERYTHING comes to a screeching halt.
Memphis is without power. I'm writing this from my parents home in Middle Tennesse where I've taken refuge. You don't think about what happens when 2/3 of a major city loses power. In minor storms our way of coping was to go to the mall. The Mall is without power too. Ditto the grocery store, the resturant, the movie theater. Unfortunately ditto the hospitals, the gas stations, the power company main office itself. Even here, the affects of the storm are being felt. My mom's office closes all their home loans through a processing center in, you guessed it, MEMPHIS. The rerouting is creating its own headaches. Mom's hours are longer and the stress level is higher than usual.
How much will the price of groceries increase so that they can re-coup the losses in meat, dairy, produce and frozen foods? How many businesses are operating on such a narrow margin that this event will be what pushes them out of business?
How do we simplify and become more self-sufficient? I'm not about to give up my modern conveniences...I love my computer too much...but surely there has been brought home in this a need to be far more prepared. I need to have more canned food on hand. We have the capacity to cook, thanks to the gas grill, but not enough foods that won't spoil. Having lots of food in the freezer didn't help this time. I'll be re-assembling that emergency kit that we used to have during the earth quake scares of the late 80's. I'd gotten careless. We were lucky. We had somewhere to go. Others aren't. We need to be ready and not so dependant that we are incovenienced when our modern lifestyles are suddenly disrupted.
Hopefully I'll be blogging from Memphis again soon.
Do any of us realize how dependant we are upon electricity? We have grown up in an era where it was always avaliable at the flick of the switch on the wall. We take it for granted. Even this method that I use to communicate my thoughts to the ethernet is wholly dependant upon the movement of electrons down wires or cables. Without it EVERYTHING comes to a screeching halt.
Memphis is without power. I'm writing this from my parents home in Middle Tennesse where I've taken refuge. You don't think about what happens when 2/3 of a major city loses power. In minor storms our way of coping was to go to the mall. The Mall is without power too. Ditto the grocery store, the resturant, the movie theater. Unfortunately ditto the hospitals, the gas stations, the power company main office itself. Even here, the affects of the storm are being felt. My mom's office closes all their home loans through a processing center in, you guessed it, MEMPHIS. The rerouting is creating its own headaches. Mom's hours are longer and the stress level is higher than usual.
How much will the price of groceries increase so that they can re-coup the losses in meat, dairy, produce and frozen foods? How many businesses are operating on such a narrow margin that this event will be what pushes them out of business?
How do we simplify and become more self-sufficient? I'm not about to give up my modern conveniences...I love my computer too much...but surely there has been brought home in this a need to be far more prepared. I need to have more canned food on hand. We have the capacity to cook, thanks to the gas grill, but not enough foods that won't spoil. Having lots of food in the freezer didn't help this time. I'll be re-assembling that emergency kit that we used to have during the earth quake scares of the late 80's. I'd gotten careless. We were lucky. We had somewhere to go. Others aren't. We need to be ready and not so dependant that we are incovenienced when our modern lifestyles are suddenly disrupted.
Hopefully I'll be blogging from Memphis again soon.
Sunday, July 20, 2003
Communication
How do we EVER manage to understand one another on even the most basic level? Each of us has our own personal filter and everything we read or hear, write or speak, is sifted through that filter. And no two filters are the same. No matter how close two people are. It is a wonder we understand anything.
Yet we assume that we have been understood and that we understand others. We make assumptions based on our filtering system that may have nothing to do with what is really being said, or rather meant.
Recently I’ve had this experience with several friends. I don’t think that it is that we’re understanding one another less, but rather that I have become aware that thing are not always what they seem and instead of attempting to decipher for myself the hidden meaning of my friends’ attempts at conversation I have begun to do something truly radical. I ASK!
It has lead to some amazing discoveries about people that I thought I knew as well as I knew myself. It has also lead to some of the most healing conversations I have had in my entire life.
I have learned for example not to project my own guilt feelings onto someone else. It is not fair to say to someone, “You must be furious with me.” When what I really mean is “I am furious with myself and worried that you are too.” I have learned to confront the “codes” that others hide behind as well. For instance when I hear “If I had done something like that you’d have thought I was out of my mind.” I can ask, “Are you trying to tell me without telling me that you think what I did was insane?”
I am learning to reflect back the feelings I hear behind the words. For example, “I can’t believe that you let him tell you what to do like that.” Would cause me to postulate, “You feel that I am accepting bad treatment from him.” Or “Its important to you that he doesn’t tell me what to do.”
It feels really weird. And even weirder is extricating myself from the position of mediator between the various people in my life. I have been a conduit between people for years. I don’t know what to do now that I have resolved not to do this anymore. I feel useless. I feel as if I am being mean when I tell someone, “You need to ask X about that if it bothers you. I’m not X, I can’t tell you what X meant by that.”
Oddly, though I have far fewer conversations I am finally achieving real communication. I think that is a very fair trade.
How do we EVER manage to understand one another on even the most basic level? Each of us has our own personal filter and everything we read or hear, write or speak, is sifted through that filter. And no two filters are the same. No matter how close two people are. It is a wonder we understand anything.
Yet we assume that we have been understood and that we understand others. We make assumptions based on our filtering system that may have nothing to do with what is really being said, or rather meant.
Recently I’ve had this experience with several friends. I don’t think that it is that we’re understanding one another less, but rather that I have become aware that thing are not always what they seem and instead of attempting to decipher for myself the hidden meaning of my friends’ attempts at conversation I have begun to do something truly radical. I ASK!
It has lead to some amazing discoveries about people that I thought I knew as well as I knew myself. It has also lead to some of the most healing conversations I have had in my entire life.
I have learned for example not to project my own guilt feelings onto someone else. It is not fair to say to someone, “You must be furious with me.” When what I really mean is “I am furious with myself and worried that you are too.” I have learned to confront the “codes” that others hide behind as well. For instance when I hear “If I had done something like that you’d have thought I was out of my mind.” I can ask, “Are you trying to tell me without telling me that you think what I did was insane?”
I am learning to reflect back the feelings I hear behind the words. For example, “I can’t believe that you let him tell you what to do like that.” Would cause me to postulate, “You feel that I am accepting bad treatment from him.” Or “Its important to you that he doesn’t tell me what to do.”
It feels really weird. And even weirder is extricating myself from the position of mediator between the various people in my life. I have been a conduit between people for years. I don’t know what to do now that I have resolved not to do this anymore. I feel useless. I feel as if I am being mean when I tell someone, “You need to ask X about that if it bothers you. I’m not X, I can’t tell you what X meant by that.”
Oddly, though I have far fewer conversations I am finally achieving real communication. I think that is a very fair trade.
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Eating disorder…it still feels unreal to type that…to speak it out loud. Weight Problem is familiar and seems “safer” somehow. But eating disorder, wow, yet another in the plethora of diagnoses that would threaten to define me. Am I more than the sum of my disorders? Do the conditions I have define who I am? I feel as if they do. I feel so screwed up at times. Sexual Abuse survivor. PTSD sufferer. Domestic Violence survivor. Hypertensive. Hyperinsulinemic. Hyperlipidemic. Hypothyroid. Eating Disorder sufferer. I, who so want to be normal, am a walking PDR. I fight it. I fight it with a passion. I hate feeling weak. I hate being “sick.” I do not want pity. I want to be healed. I want to be whole. I feel cheated. Yet I know that God has promised that He will take this weight. He promised that I would be delivered from it. I have to trust that promise and I have to do MY part in seeing that promise fulfilled. I have to take care of my health. And whatever it takes to do that, I will do. Including accepting the fact that I have an eating disorder. Including eating every two hours. Including checking my sugar 4 times a day. I will beat this. I will. With God’s help and my support team behind me, I WILL beat this thing. I choose life. I will NOT die. I refuse!
Even now God is being faithful to his promise that his strength is made perfect in our weakness. I have a deeper level of credibility with the kids because they see me struggling and being willing to be accountable to THEM even though they’re “just kids” and they are growing in their faith because of it. The promise of Romans 8:28 has not failed me yet.
God has anointed me to proclaim freedom to the captives. But I must be free myself to be able to lead others to freedom. This area is still holding me bound. It is going to be broken. The weapons I fight with are not the weapons of this world; on the contrary they have divine power to abolish strongholds. This stronghold WILL fall. In the name of Jesus!
Even now God is being faithful to his promise that his strength is made perfect in our weakness. I have a deeper level of credibility with the kids because they see me struggling and being willing to be accountable to THEM even though they’re “just kids” and they are growing in their faith because of it. The promise of Romans 8:28 has not failed me yet.
God has anointed me to proclaim freedom to the captives. But I must be free myself to be able to lead others to freedom. This area is still holding me bound. It is going to be broken. The weapons I fight with are not the weapons of this world; on the contrary they have divine power to abolish strongholds. This stronghold WILL fall. In the name of Jesus!
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Progress.
Why is it so hard for me to settle for progress? Too often I act as if anything less than perfection is failure. How sick is that? I live and die by measures that have nothing to do with who I am as a person. I am brutally unkind to myself, saying things within my head that I would never think, much less say, about others.
Today I will choose to celebrate progress.
Evaluation of the week just past:
I am feeling more empowered. How odd that acknowledging that I am human and weak and have needs makes me feel that way. How odd that has always been my biggest fear -- not being perfect – and it is leading the way to my healing. I am baffled.
I am becoming more active. I have refused to use the heat as an excuse to stay cooped up in this house. I am making activity fun by playing tourist here at home. If the scale shows something other than what I hope, I will know the truth. I refuse to be defined by the number on the scale!
I have been OP this week. I am beginning to manage this balancing act better. I am becoming responsible for my own well-being. I am taking the initiative in my own self-care. A year ago, a month ago, heck two weeks ago, I would have been thrilled that my blood sugar meter was lost. It would have been my excuse not to check my sugars. Yesterday I was panicked at the thoughts of going out into the heat without it. I have not missed a dose of my meds in three weeks. I am drinking my water. I am making healthier choices about my food. I am eating. I am beginning to recognize MY signals of hunger. I am learning to trust my body again.
I am being more real than I have been ever in my life. I am being vulnerable with those around me who care about me. I am handling my anger without either exploding or imploding. I am taking my issues up with the person who they involve rather than with others. And I am admitting that I have needs. And that is finally OK.
The scale today said down two pounds. But that is not what made today a victory. Chosing life. Refusing to succumb to the habit of self abuse. Celebrating progress. That is what made today a victory.
Why is it so hard for me to settle for progress? Too often I act as if anything less than perfection is failure. How sick is that? I live and die by measures that have nothing to do with who I am as a person. I am brutally unkind to myself, saying things within my head that I would never think, much less say, about others.
Today I will choose to celebrate progress.
Evaluation of the week just past:
I am feeling more empowered. How odd that acknowledging that I am human and weak and have needs makes me feel that way. How odd that has always been my biggest fear -- not being perfect – and it is leading the way to my healing. I am baffled.
I am becoming more active. I have refused to use the heat as an excuse to stay cooped up in this house. I am making activity fun by playing tourist here at home. If the scale shows something other than what I hope, I will know the truth. I refuse to be defined by the number on the scale!
I have been OP this week. I am beginning to manage this balancing act better. I am becoming responsible for my own well-being. I am taking the initiative in my own self-care. A year ago, a month ago, heck two weeks ago, I would have been thrilled that my blood sugar meter was lost. It would have been my excuse not to check my sugars. Yesterday I was panicked at the thoughts of going out into the heat without it. I have not missed a dose of my meds in three weeks. I am drinking my water. I am making healthier choices about my food. I am eating. I am beginning to recognize MY signals of hunger. I am learning to trust my body again.
I am being more real than I have been ever in my life. I am being vulnerable with those around me who care about me. I am handling my anger without either exploding or imploding. I am taking my issues up with the person who they involve rather than with others. And I am admitting that I have needs. And that is finally OK.
The scale today said down two pounds. But that is not what made today a victory. Chosing life. Refusing to succumb to the habit of self abuse. Celebrating progress. That is what made today a victory.
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Today I spent the day downtown with Jessica playing tourist in our hometown. We started last week finding out the free days at the local museums and planning days to take advantage of each one in turn. Today was the National Civil Rights Museum.
For those of you that don’t know, it is a museum that was made out of the Lorraine Motel (the motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in April of 1968) and it traces the civil rights struggle from the days of the emancipation proclamation to the present. I don’t know if I ever knew what racism looked like through the eyes of a child until today.
“Mommy, WHY is that man hanging from that tree??” “Mommy, WHY should that lady have to get up from her seat because a white person wanted it? She was there first!” “Mommy, WHY are those police men hurting those boys and girls? Police men are supposed to HELP people!” “Mommy, WHY?” Over and over and over again. And the only answer I could give her was “Because those people aren’t white.” She found that simply unfathomable, “But that’s STUPID! What does being black have to do with anything?”
I wouldn’t call the experience “fun” but it was definitely worth having. I kept thinking of Troy’s book “Bound for the Promise Land” and how well he did his research. If you haven’t read it and you can get your hands on it…it’s a ROUGH read, but so worth reading. Kind of like the Civil Rights Museum. The history is ugly…but worth facing…and learning from.
Memphis is a tough city to love. Race still divides us far too deeply and it is easy to become disillusioned and lose hope that it will EVER be different. Then you see it through the eyes of a child. You see them on the playgrounds at 3 or 4…not seeing color…just seeing friends. And you realize that THERE is the hope for this city. THERE is the future. THERE is Dr. King’s Dream. IF we don’t kill it for them that is.
My FAVORITE musical (other than CATS) is South Pacific. It was extremely controversial when it came out because it dealt with racism. Watching it now it’s hard to comprehend that Asians were once as discriminated against as African Americans and that interracial marriage between Asians and Caucasians was taboo. But they were. There is a song in that musical when the young lieutenant who is in love with a Polynesian girl from Bali Hi, is lamenting the reason that he cannot marry her. It talks about how racism is propagated from one generation to the next. Part of it goes, “They have to be taught, before its too late, before they are six or seven or eight, to hate all the people their relatives hate…they have to be carefully taught.” Today I realized again the truth of that statement. I take racism for granted…it’s a fact of my life…maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to be a fact of my daughter’s. Maybe, just maybe, our children will be the ones who understand the song we all learned as kids in Sunday School. “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world! Red, Brown, Yellow, Black and White they are PRECIOUS in His sight! Jesus loves the little children of the world!”
Blessings,
T-Bear
For those of you that don’t know, it is a museum that was made out of the Lorraine Motel (the motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in April of 1968) and it traces the civil rights struggle from the days of the emancipation proclamation to the present. I don’t know if I ever knew what racism looked like through the eyes of a child until today.
“Mommy, WHY is that man hanging from that tree??” “Mommy, WHY should that lady have to get up from her seat because a white person wanted it? She was there first!” “Mommy, WHY are those police men hurting those boys and girls? Police men are supposed to HELP people!” “Mommy, WHY?” Over and over and over again. And the only answer I could give her was “Because those people aren’t white.” She found that simply unfathomable, “But that’s STUPID! What does being black have to do with anything?”
I wouldn’t call the experience “fun” but it was definitely worth having. I kept thinking of Troy’s book “Bound for the Promise Land” and how well he did his research. If you haven’t read it and you can get your hands on it…it’s a ROUGH read, but so worth reading. Kind of like the Civil Rights Museum. The history is ugly…but worth facing…and learning from.
Memphis is a tough city to love. Race still divides us far too deeply and it is easy to become disillusioned and lose hope that it will EVER be different. Then you see it through the eyes of a child. You see them on the playgrounds at 3 or 4…not seeing color…just seeing friends. And you realize that THERE is the hope for this city. THERE is the future. THERE is Dr. King’s Dream. IF we don’t kill it for them that is.
My FAVORITE musical (other than CATS) is South Pacific. It was extremely controversial when it came out because it dealt with racism. Watching it now it’s hard to comprehend that Asians were once as discriminated against as African Americans and that interracial marriage between Asians and Caucasians was taboo. But they were. There is a song in that musical when the young lieutenant who is in love with a Polynesian girl from Bali Hi, is lamenting the reason that he cannot marry her. It talks about how racism is propagated from one generation to the next. Part of it goes, “They have to be taught, before its too late, before they are six or seven or eight, to hate all the people their relatives hate…they have to be carefully taught.” Today I realized again the truth of that statement. I take racism for granted…it’s a fact of my life…maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to be a fact of my daughter’s. Maybe, just maybe, our children will be the ones who understand the song we all learned as kids in Sunday School. “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world! Red, Brown, Yellow, Black and White they are PRECIOUS in His sight! Jesus loves the little children of the world!”
Blessings,
T-Bear
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