okay, we have a thermometer and a hygrometer. I got them at petstupid for 12.00 for the pair. his temps are too low; I’ll start a higher-wattage bulb in the morning. his humidity is 84%.

I was walking to the checkout and saying, “when did my life change so much I now pay money for bugs?” the guy behind me (who was buying tubifex worms for his turtle) laughed. I brought him home medium mealies (which he has no problem with—I was afraid they were too big), and ten lil’ bitty crickets and ten big fat crickets. I’m hoping to use the big fat ones to breed. I put them all in stewie’s old tank with some egg cartons to hide in, a little lid of water and some cat food. and then I put the whole tank in my bedroom because I like the sound of crickets!

about the job—I’m so burnt and sad I hardly want to talk about it. in august I got a job with JJAEP, which is short for juvenile justice alternative education program. it’s sort of a stopping place between getting permanently expelled from public school and jail, a place where hopefully kids can learn some life skills and make some better choices and not end up across the street (in detention). I was the enrollment clerk and I loved it with all my heart. unfortunately, the school wasn’t making enough money to support itself, and 18 staff members got RIF’ed, which is government-ese for “laid off.”

so I’m freakin’ out and nagging our HR guy daily to help me find another job. THE DAY before my last day, he offered me a job I’d already applied and asked for: admissions coordinator across the street (in detention). I was sooooooooooo relieved!!!  the two job titles sound a lot alike, don’t they? enrollment clerk, admissions coordinator… it was 82 cents an hour more, swing shift, which didn’t thrill me, but the economy sucks and winter’s coming one, and a low electric bill in texas is $155.00.

so I get there. no office, no desk, no clerical work at all. I’m muscle that keeps books. they’re training me, and next week I’ll be certified, to be a juvenile DETENTION officer!!!!  I admit children to jail.  I search them.  I supervise their showers.  I document and store their belongings.  I screen them for suicide ideation.

forget how truly hilarious it is that I, of all people, would actually become a kiddie jailer—I have a story that would curl your hair (and remembered bits of it I thought I’d forgotten today)—21 years ago I was married to a drug dealer and so insane I didn’t answer to my own name. I’d spent years living in a house full of bombs. I won’t go any further than that. a dear and beautiful woman named ann patiently shined her light on the path until I dared to step onto it and try to start stumbling my way back.

all day long we’ve talked about nothing but mental illness and psychological disorders and teenage suicide and teenage suicide prevention and children self-mutilating and smearing feces all over the walls, little boys tearing pieces off milk cartons and shoving them into their penises—along with anything else they could get hold of, paper clips, staples… one boy they kept everything away from chewed off his fingernails and pushed those in. we have children on 1 on 1 suicide watch 24 hours a day. we have children whose parents have just abandoned them, moved away and left no forwarding address, the phone’s shut off, everything!  they’ve just decided they can’t take it anymore—in a way I can understand, because some of these kids have done some truly terrible stuff—but they’re their kids! oh, my god!  and then we had a test on suicide prevention.  tomorrow I get to learn how to restrain them.

I toured the “facility” today, put in a ten-hour horrifying day, and came home sad and weak and needing to de-brief.  I walked up on the porch and asked jim (a homeless guy we adopted last year, who is now a full-fledged member of the family) if he’d please make me a nice grilled cheese sandwich with mayonnaise in the middle.  he’s a sweet man; he said, “sure thing,” and went in and made me a sandwich while I talked to my critters and tried to get back in touch with some sort of gratitude.

you know, I’m always saying god knows what he’s doing, but on my way to my car this evening I told him he’s crazy.  I don’t want to do this!  I mean, I’m grateful to be employed, and only beginning to pare down the debts caused by nearly two years of unemployment here (yes, it’s that hard to find a job, any job, and I am not picky—this time last year I was humping milk at wally world), but…

I don’t know if I can do this.  I don’t know if I can not do this.  someone has to do it.  I told god if this is really where he wants me, I’ll stay until he says I can go.  but the second I can run away… (maybe I won’t because someone has to do it).

I have things to let go of.  It’s ridiculous to keep the teaching things when I know I’m not going to teach any more.  (I still have a part of me that says maybe, if I can get a job teaching first grade, so I may let that part have its way for a bit longer.)

It’s like the pomegranate tree and the grandfather clock.  If this really is all there is, I’d better get busy living it.  I have all these things I’m still wearing around my neck.  The “career that failed” necklace and the “marriage that didn’t happen” necklace and the “I used to be skinny” necklace and a hundred others that I just wear because it’s habit.  The time has come to start taking some of those necklaces off.

Maybe the reason that I never seem to get the book written or the highlighter holder produced is that I’m so clogged up with old stuff that I don’t have room for any new stuff.   The thing that bothers me about that is that none of the old stuff ever worked out, so I’m still living a life made of things that didn’t work out.  I don’t want those things but I’m afraid to let go of them, and my refusal to let go of them is taking up all the room in my life that could be being used for things that do work.

I’m still resigned to my old habits because I think I’m stuck with them, but I’m really not.  I can change.  I made the decision yesterday to not use more credit I don’t have because I want a pomegranate tree, and explained to myself the difference between putting things off until some magical time in the future when circumstances will be right, and not doing something until I have the resources to do it.

Nothing I’ve ever had to have right this minute has ever made me happy.  I think a lot of those things happen because I deny myself everything, whether I need it or not, and then I go on an acquisition binge, much the same way that I go on diets no one could stick to and end up bingeing because I’m so terribly hungry.

I don’t know.  Baby step, baby steps.  Maybe it’s an age thing.  I figure I’ve got another forty years or so.  I sure would like them to be more satisfying than the last forty.

I still believe money is the answer to all my problems, and if my angels really do show up in 15 days with my ten million dollars, I plan to scream and jump up and down.  I have plans for that money, many of which will do good to more than me.  But if they don’t show up, my life is going to continue.  What do I want it to be?  And how much of what I want can be managed right here in this little trailer I just had to buy?  Quite a bit.  My beans, gourds and radishes are planted.  I’ve started a compost heap.  I don’t have to dream of a big garden “when”….  I can do that part right here.  But I also don’t have to do every bit of it right this second; it’s okay if some parts have to wait a little while, just as long as I’m not putting them off until that magical, mysterious somday.

Merry Christmas!

Since last Christmas?  Let’s see…the pipes burst like three times.  Practically the whole of my plumbing has been replaced, which I’m hoping will get me through this winter, since I broke up with my plumber.

Ending it with Rogor turned out to be an extremely good call: he was arrested early in November and no one has seen/heard hide nor hair since.  That’s what happens to an alcoholic in recovery who doesn’t clean up his wreckage.  I have no pity for him; I’ve found out too much since June.  So that part of my life is over, and I count myself fortunate to have emerged relatively unscathed.  I hope for this to be the last mention I need to make of it.

I grew my first eggplant this last summer.  It was the only thing in my garden that grew, and it didn’t mature until Nov.  But they were so pretty!  Everybody around here had problems with their gardens.  It was a strange growing year.  I’m thinking there’s just way too much shade in my yard.  When my trees are fully leafed, they cover nearly the whole thing.  So I think I’ll roto-till the front of my lot, outside the fence (I’m actually hoping to hire a teenager to do it).  I’m planning on chopping the crape myrtles to the ground; they’re really just big weeds.  They’re the only shade in that area.  I’m not worried about fencing it.  We don’t seem to have problems with vandalism here.

I celebrated nine years of sobriety on October 14, if anyone besides me is counting.  God is so good.

I’ve added two critters to the family.  One is an extremely handsome iguana named Donatello (pic attached for those with e-mail).  The other is a human named Jim.  Jim lives on my couch as of last week; before that he didn’t live anywhere.  I don’t know much about him, but he strikes me as being a decent person who just needs a hand up.  The dogs like him, and he keeps them from being alone all day.  He’s waiting on an interview with WalMart now; I’m keeping my fingers crossed for him.  He’s been out of work for months—finding a job anywhere has become a miraculous accomplishment.

I’m still at WalMart.  I like it.  My stress level is pretty much gone (I worry about money a lot, but try to leave that with God).  I get lots of exercise, and have learned of some herbs and dietary changes that help with the nerve pain.  I think if I keep going the way I am, I’ll be able to crochet again soon.

I think I still want to teach.  It keeps changing.  What doesn’t change is the grade.  I have a full-time job with benefits now; I have time to be picky.  I will hold out for first grade, that much I know for sure.  I’m an okay teacher in other grades.  In first grade I’m a good teacher.  That’s where my heart is, and that’s where I want to be.  The whole point in becoming a teacher was to be able to spend the rest of my working life doing something I love.  I’d certainly make more money, and it would be nice to not be scared all the time, but I don’t want that to be my whole reason behind teaching.

I don’t have any news, really.  Nothing happens in my life (and I like it that way).  I’m happy and grateful just to wake up in my home with my pets and have another day in which to grow and become closer with God.  I have all I need, I guess.  I’ll be spending Christmas with my Texas family.  I have no money for gifts this year, but they don’t mind.  I’ll provide dessert; Lenny says I make the best pecan pie he’s ever had (and in Texas, pecans are free—they’re lying all over the ground).  It’s funny how, as I go on with my life, the outer trappings mean less and less to me.  You can’t tell it’s Christmas by looking around my house.  I remember when I’d be sure I would die without a tree.  Today I have one—it’s in the shed.  If I needed it, I’d put it up, but this year I just don’t need it.  What Christ did for me is forever in my heart.  Christmas Eve service is at 6:00 on Wednesday, and I’ll be there.  And I don’t care if no one knows or can agree on the exact date or year.  He was born.

I wish you love, warmth, roofs over your heads, healthy relatives, plenty of food and quiet minds.

Love,

jesse

i saw the cutest little chihuahua mix (w/jack russell?) shivering against the back door of a trailer by the mailbox. i wanted to take him home so bad, but i had to go to work. so i decided if he was still there when i came home, i'd take him in. but he wasn't, and i was both sad and relieved. he had a collar--i hope he found his way home.

my manifestation of millionnaire-ism is going horrible. not one single person has sent me a dollar. i so want to just adopt critters and write.

the more i see of the news, the more grateful i am for my job. they're projecting 10% unemployment by the beginning of next year. and all the stories about people being foreclosed on their homes. i think the sweet little mexican guy across the way and his family got evicted. they were having major financial hard times. i have financial hard times, but i own my trailer, and i have enough to make my lot rent. walmart started me at a good wage, i (soon will) have health insurance, they have a retirement plan, and i like it. i still want to teach, but only first grade, and now i can hold out for as long as i need to.

i've still got issues with energy and the schedule, but i guess i'm just going to have to accept that this is the way my life is for now. i might just have to stay up all night if that's when i have the energy to write and work on my websites. it's not working to try to get things done before i go to work. i get upset because i wake up so late. i'm just going to have to figure out how to live with the hours. i don't want to just succumb to the depression. this isn't what i want my life to be, but only i can make it different, so i have to learn to work with what time i have.

the pain has gotten so much better! my arms don't wake me up at night anymore at all (thank you god!), and my hands are improving. they're still not very cooperative in the mornings, but i have these therapy gloves i ordered from this company in australia, and i wear them at night, and at least i don't wake up with claws i have to soak in warm water and pry open. and when i listen to the horror stories the cashiers tell in the breakroom, and the people from other departments talking about people shoplifting right under their noses and they can't do anything about it, i count myself lucky to be in dairy. besides, the exercise is fantastic. i started off in 36's that were snug--i'm now in 34's that are loose.

all in all, life is pretty good. now if people will just start sending money...

11/20/2008

My life is a result of a large series of decisions made in a state of desperation.  Because of that, I don’t want to make any more decisions while I am depressed or scared.

11/21/2008

Effectively, nothing in the past ever actually happened.  Nothing in the future has happened yet.  That leaves me with only one real moment: now.

It is important for me to remember that all the things I was most afraid of have already happened to me (and I survived).  I have no reason to continue my life, trying to protect myself from something that has already happened.

11/24/2008

OMG, we really are at war!  “We” meaning Christians.  I received a letter from my pastor’s wife, warning about a book called “Conversations with God,” that is basically making up a way for God to be.  It’s so frightening to me.  As a child in school, we learned to sing, “Away in a Manger” at Christmastime; now we’re expected to say, “Happy Holidays.”  We aren’t supposed to mention Jesus, but now someone is attributing thoughts and philosophies to God and selling them to school children?  Someone already wrote that book—it’s called The Bible.

I think having money will make me happy.  Well, if I look at it honestly, if I got all these credit cards paid down, I’d have money.  Granted, I have a lot of debt, most of which came about out of necessity.  But applying for a new card to buy something I want is plain irresponsible, and I did it just a couple days ago.  The $140 purse that I can’t even carry because of the nerve damage was irresponsible.  I know I suffer from a compulsion, but that’s a reason, not an excuse.  I need to take responsibility for that compulsion.

Funny realization:  I’m happy when I’m at work.  It is not the teaching career I planned for, and I resent the hell out of having a Bachelor’s degree and humping milk at Wal-Mart.  The physicality of it has put me into a lot of pain.  It’s not the $42,500 a year that made me move to the hell that is Texas.  But I’m happy when I’m there.  I love the exercise.  I love (most of) the people I work with.  The days fly by.  And I realize that I just bebop and sing my way through the day.  I’m alone most of the time; I’ve been trained for my job and I’m trusted to do it.  I like it.  If I have to work, I could have done a lot worse.

I need to stop worrying about all my “shoulds.”  Yes, the house is messier than I want it to be.  Yes, there’s step work I need to be doing, and writing for Helium, and meetings, church, Big Book study…all sorts of things I think I need to do.  But the fact is I have a lot of pain right now.  The fact is I don’t have a lot of energy.  The fact is I like to spend my precious time at home with my animals, not running around.  Maybe I need to just accept my limitations.  It’s probably not forever.  My hands will get better.  My finances will get better.  Since the only person putting pressure on me is me, maybe I “should” just back off.

I really want to just give myself permission to be Jesse, in all my goofiness and imperfect glory.  I’m smart, I’m artistic; I’m talented, loving, decent, creative and worthwhile.  I keep believing I should somehow be different than I am.  Why?  Because I think other people think I should be different.  Not that I’ve been told that for a long time.  It’s left over from my past, my parents, my siblings, my husbands.  The people I know now don’t tell me that.  I’m not going to live forever.  I’d better get to being true to who and what I really am here pretty quick.  Effectively (I recently wrote), nothing in the past ever happened.  I need to stop reacting to it.

I want to give me permission to take care of myself.  It’s funny how I’ll impulsively buy a $140 purse, but not be able to go to the doctor because I don’t have the money.  My wants come before my needs.  But I think that’s just an effort to fill the eternal hole.  Maybe if I started taking care of myself at least as well as I do my dogs, I wouldn’t need to pacify myself with stuff, only to later regret the purchase and be angry with myself and feeling crowded because there’s too dang much stuff.

i like wal-mart.  it's just not what i want to do forever.  what i want to do forever is write and take care of my pets.  i stopped wishing for a decent man who would let me be a stay-at-home wife--he obviously isn't out there.

so i have to figure out a way to make this happen for myself.  my teaching degree is apparently useless here in texas.   i would earn enough for the life i want if i could teach, but of course i wouldn't have any time to live it.  book sales are picking up, probably because of christmas.  my illustrator says he'll have the pics for the second book by april.  meanwhile, i'm working on a "grownup" book.  i thought of it as a coffee table book until this morning, when i realized that it is more like a "bathroom book."  it's a collection of writings, some humorous, some wise, some heart-tugging.  the "chicken soup" people aren't interested, so i'm going to publish it myself.  i found a place to do that:  www.lulu.com.

i'd still like to tutor reading and/or writing, but i don't have the energy this minute to research it.  unfortunately, i've always been one of those people who could work or live, but not both.  i have to overcome that.  right now, i have at least summoned enough in the way of focus to work on the new book.

well, it took three weeks and a citation from the local animal control (beowulf is a lab and loves to run), but my baby finally found a home on wednesday last.  The girl i gave him to is wonderful--even keeps me updated on how he's doing by e-mail.

so that was my first rescue.  i did eveything wrong.  i spent money i really didn't have bailing him out.  i rescued a big, black dog without realizing that i had just put myself in charge of the world's hardest-to-adopt-out animal, i broke my trailer park's rules to have him here, ended up getting cited by animal control and threatened with eviction, and fell hopelessly in love.  in desperation i tried to take him to the spca and blew my transmission in the process.  the total cash cost of the whole affair was $1484.  for a mixed breed stray with amazing eyes.  i cried when he went home.  it was worth it.

my cat that started avoiding the place (sylvester) because of the giant black dog came home yesterday, and has been in my lap almost nonstop ever since (thank you god!).

the dali lama says, "when you lose, don't lose the lesson."  it has been a learning experience, and i have the joy as well as the lesson to keep.

I've had some time to think about it, and I've decided getting fired was a blessing.  I knew from the beginning I shouldn't be there.

Here is the prayer that I said:  Please, God, I want this job so bad.  I need this job so bad.  Even if it isn’t right for me, please let me have it to tide me over until the right thing comes along.  I have to pay my bills.

Okay, so…

I got the job.  By the time I got fired three days later, I’d already fallen in love with a dog, who is now walking around my house being a huge, happy mistake.  Oh, he loves it here!  (He barked all night long!) And my paranoia level is through the roof, because my landlord and I didn’t start out all that well, and this giant, friendly beast is a huge breaking of the rules.  And I knew all this, and I did it anyway.  Because the dog is beautiful, and sweet, and will make someone a devoted lifelong companion.  If I can find that person.  What if I can’t?  I knew I couldn’t keep him from the beginning.

Here’s what I learned:  I owe my former boss a heart-felt thank you.  Whatever the motives behind it were, he did me a favor.  God knows me much better than I know myself, and I have no business ever setting foot inside a shelter again, unless someday I want to volunteer at one of the no-kill shelters, and even that would probably be unwise.

I made a friend.  I know my supervisor, Debbie, was in no way responsible for the loss, and everything she had to say to me yesterday (at least four days’ worth of conversation) made it clear that she missed me.  She still wants to be my friend.  She even looked into it and let me know that the requirement of working in an animal care facility was only for the distance-learning course.  To attend and do the online classes, all you need is tuition.

Here’s what I hope to keep from this:

God gave me the job I begged so hard to get.  It did tide me over until the right thing came along—I made $220 in my time there, and that check will be mailed to me on Friday, which will carry me through.  Meanwhile, the job I got is great.  My supervisor’s nice, my manager hired me before he even met me, I’ll be working in the back with very little exposure to customers, they started me off at a wage I had to work at Citigroup for five years to reach, and I’ll have health insurance.  God knew what he was doing all along.  I could have just said, “Wheeee!”

last night i prayed and told god how scared i am, and asked him to please just kill me.  i don't want to feel what i'm going to have to feel when everything sinks and i lose my precious pets.  they're all the family i have.  and god was about as cooperative as he always is, which means i woke up alive.  so i figure that means i'd better do something with the day.

the dallas zoo has an opening for an animal keeper.  i applied and wrote them an eloquent cover letter.  more of that online stuff.  you can't ever look at a person and apply for a job any more.  i think i'll go there monday and see if i can find someone to pester.

an aquaintance gave me the number of the company he works for as a security guard.  i threw it out when the animal shelter hired me, but i'll get it again and call them.  if what he told me was true, about all i have to do to get hired is call, and i need an income of some kind.

i can't go to the gym.  my membership expired.  i guess i'll clean and go to meeting.  it's so hard to walk through the day without hope.  but, they say stay sober and go to meetings; something will work out.  so i guess i'll hold on to that today.