Saturday, July 30, 2011

A Long, Hard Summer

It's not unusual for us to be totally broke, between student loans, and wondering how we are going to make it. July is the first time we've missed a mortgage payment. And we're going to miss two more before funds come in to catch us up. The landlord hasn't said anything yet, and we enclosed a note with last month's late payment indicating things had gotten tough. That mortgage payment kind of covers the rest of my life right now, too.

A few months ago the engine in my car seized, which required $2300 repair. My dad was kind enough to help financially, for only the second time in my adult life, and I caught a lot of rides over the three weeks required for the repair. Then the landlord of the mechanic hit my car and I spent last week in an insurance provided Jeep. It was a joy to drive, except it cost $78 in gas when I normally would have spent $25.

Cameron reading out loud to a captive audience.
In the background: Dickens
On the TV: Lugh, Tully and Xian
November 2010
My knee has also become increasingly problematic. Turns out driving the Jeep was a good thing. It had shown marked improvement that only a day of driving my car has undone. And the litany goes on. Insert violins and self pity here. And while I'm whining, I miss my Tully cat, damn it!

I've actually rolled with these fears, concerns and worries fairly well. The breaking point is work. I'm going to try to find a way that if my boss would accidentally find this site, I would not be out of work, and yet convey the challenge and frustration of my situation. I'll ask that comments also reflect the desperate need of my paycheck.

Our building was constructed about five years ago. We've desperately outgrown the space, and are expanding. Construction has created some rather, shall we say, unfortunate challenges. I get up about 3:45 to arrive at work at 5 a.m. The joy of my morning is watching the sunrise through my east facing window. My office, an afterthought of previous construction and poorly planned, is about 5 feet wide and 12 feet long. The narrowness of the office is negated by a window squarely over my desk. The sunlight warms my small space in an overly air conditioned environment (typically about 60 degrees in most offices, summer and winter). Friday I lost my window to construction. The space has become constricted, tight, claustrophobic. The overhead light does not work, and my request for repair has been denied (insert office politics and protect my further comment here.) So coworkers found me a few more lamps. It's not working.

The view through my door isn't much better. All the windows are likewise blocked, as is the front entrance (adding 12 feet to the front of the building which will create a total of four offices). All daylight has been blocked, and the temporary wall increases the feeling of closeness. Everyone has been commenting on how bad it is. The construction noise as bricks are removed from the opposite side of my wall, etc, is about more than I can stand. So far I've endured mortar drills, concrete being poured, etc. All of this is literally on the opposite side of my wall. And it promises to get louder as they continue to remove bricks, etc.

We have about 850 clients that come to the clinic between every day and once every two weeks. The front hall, just outside my door and pictured here, has had quite an effect on them. Most people don't like change. Addicts particularly don't like change, and their reactive behavior to the current condition of the clinic has been notable. My own reaction isn't much better. I've lost all time sense, and have lost all connections to the outside world, the seasons, and the weather. I adored looking out my window. My office was extremely warm yesterday because the window also insulated. It'll take about six weeks to complete construction. I've requested a new office, and pray they listen. In the mean time, I feel like I'm loosing my mind.

Yes, I know that last statement sounds melodramatic. But therein also lies truth. It's been a hard, hard summer. Normally summer replenish my spirit and prepare me for the cold winter months and restricted lighting. I'm dysthemic, which means chronic depression. In other words, I'm naturally "the glass is half empty" kind of girl. As the daughter of a schizophrenic mother, I'm bred to see the world through treacherous lenses. In my mind, everything is always going to be as hard is it is, right now, forever. Unfortunately, history has often reinforced that lesson. Between finances, the deterioration of our home which we can't afford to repair, the shortage of grocery money, bill collectors and the like, things have been a struggle for a very long time. Most of the time I still manage to stay on top of it. Cameron is quite a blessing and positive person, which helps considerably.

June 6, 2011
It's funny. I've noticed time and again that when things get horribly, horribly difficult we are always blessed with a litter of kittens. With the nearing loss of Tully, the Lady Bastet once again blessed us. Some days, it's only their adoring looks and affection that keeps me on track.

In reflection, I think the office is the universe's affirmation that it's nearing time to leave my current job. I never wanted to work in addictions, anyway. But I needed a job and it was an opportunity in my field. I was lucky to find work when most of peers at school could not. I've hated the hours from the beginning, but it made grad school, the practicum and now the internship possible. As of this week, I've completed the hours required for licensure (I still have to see client and have supervision until Dec 2012, but the hours requirement can be the most difficult part to fulfill).

And  here lies darkness, also lies hope. I am a child of the Goddess, and know well that fertile soil gives tiny sprouts the chance to grow. I believe a miracle is coming...I've invested in that miracle, nurtured it, waited for it, dreamed of it. I know that when it comes, our lives will change radically. But I thought my miracle was going to arrive months ago, and I hold on with weakening fingers.


  1. May all your hard work, struggles and sacrifices be rewarded! Hang in there! Kitties and Cameron will help you through!

  2. Dearest Dreamweaver,

    Having just come through a similar, three year financial, emotional, spiritual blight, I understand how difficult this must be. It will change. You and Cameron have accomplished so much, even through the darkness. I will hold you in my thoughts and prayers.

    P.S. Do you still sell your jewelry on line? I went to the link on this page, but didn't find anything for sale.