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I woke this morning with too many thoughts, each one appearing in a rush, demanding my attention, shooting through my mind in its own direction, not connected to the next thought that flashes into my inner sight. I can’t follow them all. Each one is chased away by the next one. I cannot see their beginning, their intention, or their ending.
I am bombarded by thoughts as if there is a fireworks show going on within me, without being orchestrated, and it frightens me.
After my strange and stressful day yesterday, I picked up my mail at the post office on my way home. Our mail does not get delivered to our houses in this little town. My bank statement was there, which would have been the correct proof of my disability income that I needed yesterday in my hunt for winter utility bill assistance. The substitute printout confirming my income from the food stamp office was not what those people wanted.
Along with the bank statement there was a letter from the social security office telling me I am to receive a ‘special one-time payment of $775 in December 2009’, and that this amount will disqualify me from receiving any disability – and the letter stopped there – “Forever?” I want to know. “What does this mean? What’s going on here?”
There were pages and pages to this form letter of gobbelty-goop I do not understand. Do humans actually write these words of confusion? I fight shock and panic as I wonder if my sole source of income is about to vanish forever. There are telephone numbers to call, and I anticipate long waits, leaving messages without return calls, bizarre conversations with mechanical telephone voices as I try to find the answers I need.
Meanwhile my body and mind are in distress overload mode. So I sit outside in my fleece, writing in the dappled morning sunshine as the leaves still on the trees shake and shiver in a gentle breeze. They make a higher pitched sound now as they brittle and age with frost at night.
I scribble words in lines across these pages because it helps me to see them here. I can focus on them one by one so the noise of cascading of thoughts and emotions within me can dim. I organize and orient myself in this moment as I feel the paper held against my knee and watch this pen, gripped between my fingers, glide along these neat straight lines like parallel rails into the future. I am comforted.
I sit here with my cell phone waiting for the closest SSI office to open. Will I end up consuming all my free day minutes and get no answer at all? I will myself not to follow my thoughts up into the air or down, down, sucked down where there is no air at all. All I have to do is wait and try not to panic.
I do not want to think about the grief, guilt, anger and sadness churning within me because I am no longer able to feel competent, tough and strong like I managed to be while my children were growing up under my care. I was more like a Sherman tank then, forging always forward. Now I am dependent for all of my living needs on forces I cannot see, comprehend, control or change. Will this ever change?
I do not want to follow all the thoughts and feelings within me about the over crowding of our planet or about the diminishment and mismanagement of its resources. I don’t want to think about the growing masses of people, so many of them suffering and terrified. I do not want to think about the nearly 20% unemployment rate some estimate for our nation. I do not want to think about the money that is not being spent to help those in need, about the jobs that have vanished because of technology, foreign placement of industry, and the out-going channels of money that once belonged within the boundaries of our own country.
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My call to SSI the moment they opened their doors put me on the other end of the line with a real person. I am grateful and amazed. I am told it will all be OK, that an adjustment is being made to my case because of past earnings I had that weren’t in their system when my benefits were first figured, but are there now. I am told that I won’t have medical coverage for the month of December, but by January my income should be reestablished as ongoing, and I will not have a medical review of my disability until 2015.
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Now I will process a de-escalation of my – fortunately temporary – distressed escalation caused by my concerns about my basic well-being in the world. With the current economic crisis the numbers of people applying for disability has escalated drastically. I know I am fortunate my cancer and resulting descent into internal fragmentation happened before the woes of this economic downturn hit our nation so hard.
I also think about how throwing crumbs to starving people can create gratitude in them, while the conditions that created the starvation in the first place have not been considered. How about the others who remain content to gorge themselves on excesses of plenty? Are the cracks Americans can fall through getting wider now? Are people that have barely managed to be OK thus far, many of them from less-than-perfect childhoods, now creating a landslide of suffering people falling through those cracks that none of us can seem to get fat enough to be safe from?
I cannot begin to understand how I would be now in the world if the 18 years of severe child abuse I endured had not been allowed to happen. I cannot easily disentangle the consequences of that abuse as it has impacted me all of my life from how it is impacting me now. I was fortunate to make it through my mothering years without this degree of disintegration of my coping abilities hitting me like it has now. I was able to keep moving forward before the armored tank of myself disintegrated and vanished.
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Perhaps I will always struggle between guilt and gratitude that I am receiving help to stay alive and in a home with food to eat. On many levels I believe that when my cancer hit me it was my time to leave here. For whatever reasons, I chose to fight it and others chose to help me with my battle.
Yet at the same time I know there are millions of people of all ages suffering who do not have access to what they need. Am I accountable and responsible for this fact? Is it like the co-dependency theorists suggest, I didn’t cause this problem, I cannot cure or control it? What happens in this world that disables so many of its inhabitants from having the basics of safety and security that would alleviate so much of their sufferings?
Will it only be when those higher up on the food chain begin to grow skinny — because the rest of us down here below them can no longer consume enough to give them money to grow fatter on — that they will perhaps only then turn around and suddenly, finally sprout wings of compassion and generosity toward the rest of their kind?
How do we define poverty and disability, anyway? Who am I to be taken care of when so many others are not? Is there any way that I, even with my own disabilities, can find some way to be part of a solution? How can I work each moment of my life to stabilize my body-brain-mind and emotions? How do any of us — and all of us — turn tragedy into triumph?
Who cares enough to make sure this process ever happens? How and where do we begin? I know I won’t find answers to all these questions in my speed dial. I don’t even know how to use it.
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I just received this from a dear friend in an email about:
A Personal Message from Mary Robinson Reynolds, M.S.
Do you feel like somehow, inadvertently you made a vow of poverty
because of some pivotal, if not painful, moment in your life? Did you
make a deal with God that you thought you had to make, to keep
something bad from happening?
I remember when I did. After my first full-term baby boy died during
labor, I was devastated. A year later during my second pregnancy, I
had five early labor scares that landed me in the hospital for bed
rest. I remember promising God that I would never again ask for
anything more important than having this child in my life alive and
well …ever again! This, I would discover, had been my vow of
poverty: I promise not to ever ask for anything ever again …
including money!
From that point forward, I would fight myself over every single need,
want and desire I had, until I began to expand my knowledge about God
and about the wealth of all good things available to me…..
SEE MORE AT:
www.MakeADifference.com/MasterMinding
www.GodWantsYouToBeRichMovie.com
www.GodWantsYoutobeRichmovie.com/FlashBook.html
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