Sometimes I don't post for a week or two because I really don't feel that the thoughts in my head ever need to be set down for other eyes to see. This has been one of those weeks.
I started a post about it and realized that some things are just too messed up to communicate.
As I've mentioned in other posts, I have worked for several years in the adoption world. It's a crazy, beautiful, heart-wrenching thing and I have felt lucky to be a part of it.
But sometimes it just sucks.
For the past six months, I have been working with an addicted birthmother. Working with addicted people is never a walk in the park, even if they're currently exercising some sort of control over the addiction. Combine addiction that is not under control with pregnancy and you get a hot mess.
In the last nine days, I have been on a non-stop rollercoaster of emotions, stretched between a birthmom whose demons are in the drivers seat in her life and a terrified family who are already in love with the baby that joins them all together. Watching a once-pretty woman sink to the lowest point possible to a human brings out all the compassion within you; but then you walk a few steps to the nursery and watch an innocent baby in the throes of withdrawal. Compassion goes out the window for me and I just want to pick up the mom and shake the snot out of her. How could you DO that?! Why don't you CARE?! I honestly cannot fathom an addiction so strong that it takes away your humanity, that it can make you look without pity on a newborn who is struggling to survive because of your own actions.
The nurses in the NICU told me that a baby who's detoxing feels like she's falling all the time. Pats and jiggling motions, comforting to most babies, only make the withdrawing baby more anxious and frantic. Imagine feeling as if you are falling backward down a tunnel that has no end. No touch is comforting, no voice can soothe. That's what this mom's pharmaceutical adventures did to her child.
And the hospital released the birthmom with 30 Percocet two days later. Less than 48 hours after she left the hospital, she returned as a patient in the ER. Handcuffed to her bed because she'd gotten high on her pain medication and had slammed her truck into a daycare bus loaded with kids. Everybody lived, which is a miracle.
What's not a miracle is that the SAME hospital released her home 20 hours after the accident with a prescription for 60 Percocet.
There's nothing cute or funny to say about all this. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
The only thing that I can hold on to is the fact that the baby who is now just a few days old is set on a course for an amazing, beautiful life. After a gazillion stupid-ass choices, this birthmother made one good one. She gave life to her child and then she gave a GOOD life to her.
That's enough for me.
Showing posts with label Armchair Psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Armchair Psychology. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Roofer Madness, Part Deux
Hi, there! We've had news of great things happening at the Taj, but sadly, we aren't there to see it!
Yesterday morning, Mimi texted to say that the roofer was already hard at work. Aroudn 8:30pm last night, the Taj next-door-neighbor called and very light-heartedly let us know that the roofer had arrived by 6:00am and was STILL pounding nails at 8:30pm. I am planning to go by the wonderful local bakery, Bakers Pride, Thursday on my way out of town and pick up a nice little sampler of allthe delectable goodies. Maybe that would make up for what I'm sure was a migraine-inducing day for the neighbors!
But, on the bright side--one project DONE! I'm heading up to give it a look-over and then pay the roofer. I'm hoping to also line up some electrical and plumbing contractors to meet me out there on Friday, so I can get bids and we can begin on those jobs soon.
Sigh.
In the midst of it all, one of my jobs has decided to go HAYWIRE over the last three weeks, causing me to question not only the sanity of buying such a project, so far away, but also how reasonable it is to expect to work two jobs (allegedly part-time) and still be a decent, involved and energetic mom to the Tankster, project house notwithstanding. These days, I can't find time to answer emails, much less tend to all the have-tos on my many lists.
Recently, though, I've started to think differently. Just the other night, we were watching House Hunters International and it came up that both Shawn and I secretly regretted never having lived overseas. It suddenly dawned on me that we could, in fact, do it. If we really wanted to and were willing to make some sacrifices. I realized that we could sell the house at Gilligan's Island, keep the Taj (since there's no mortgage) and just...GO. What a terrifying, wonderful, thrilling thought! Now, we don't have plans to actually do that. We might, but we're not planning it right now. But what a thrill to know we could.
The trick is to keep looking at life that way, regardless of your age, your financial status, your job situation. As long as air is still going in and out and your heart is still pumping blood through your veins, you have potential to do anything you want. You just have to want it enough.
And on that note, I'm off to watch the All-Star Game. Go, Brian McCann!
Yesterday morning, Mimi texted to say that the roofer was already hard at work. Aroudn 8:30pm last night, the Taj next-door-neighbor called and very light-heartedly let us know that the roofer had arrived by 6:00am and was STILL pounding nails at 8:30pm. I am planning to go by the wonderful local bakery, Bakers Pride, Thursday on my way out of town and pick up a nice little sampler of allthe delectable goodies. Maybe that would make up for what I'm sure was a migraine-inducing day for the neighbors!
But, on the bright side--one project DONE! I'm heading up to give it a look-over and then pay the roofer. I'm hoping to also line up some electrical and plumbing contractors to meet me out there on Friday, so I can get bids and we can begin on those jobs soon.
Sigh.
In the midst of it all, one of my jobs has decided to go HAYWIRE over the last three weeks, causing me to question not only the sanity of buying such a project, so far away, but also how reasonable it is to expect to work two jobs (allegedly part-time) and still be a decent, involved and energetic mom to the Tankster, project house notwithstanding. These days, I can't find time to answer emails, much less tend to all the have-tos on my many lists.
Recently, though, I've started to think differently. Just the other night, we were watching House Hunters International and it came up that both Shawn and I secretly regretted never having lived overseas. It suddenly dawned on me that we could, in fact, do it. If we really wanted to and were willing to make some sacrifices. I realized that we could sell the house at Gilligan's Island, keep the Taj (since there's no mortgage) and just...GO. What a terrifying, wonderful, thrilling thought! Now, we don't have plans to actually do that. We might, but we're not planning it right now. But what a thrill to know we could.
The trick is to keep looking at life that way, regardless of your age, your financial status, your job situation. As long as air is still going in and out and your heart is still pumping blood through your veins, you have potential to do anything you want. You just have to want it enough.
And on that note, I'm off to watch the All-Star Game. Go, Brian McCann!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Inching Towards Organization
Tuesday morning and I should be getting ready for the part-time job that actually requires my presence. I looked in the closet and the thought of having to find something to wear. And do something with my hair. And then get Tank up and dressed because he goes to work with me....
It just all seemed too much, so I plopped down in front of the computer instead.
No updates on the Taj MaHell as of yet. I had hoped that we'd hear something yesterday, but I guess we won't be updated during the process at all. One day (soon, I hope), we'll just get an email telling us when/where the closing will be. We'll close by mail, but you can do an actual face-to-face closing if you want.
In the meantime, I've been poring over paint swatches and reading product reviews, making lists, making more lists, losing the lists I made and happily starting over because I love lists! One thing I did learn is that no one makes a paint you can put on an old stove, so we're stuck with the apparently functional, butt-ugly one at the Taj. The cheapest 40-inch stove on the market is pushing up on $800, and that is just not in the budget until the old one keels over.
So, what's a girl to do when she's anxious to sink her teeth into a new project but there's nothing to do? Me, I'm going on a purging rampage! I'm going through the Gilligan's Island house, tossing anything that is no longer useful or that I never wear, etc. I'm streamlining and simplifying my drawers, closets, cabinets and bookshelves. I'll do the same thing at Uncle Todd's Cabin (our current Mayberry address) in preparation for the big move to the Taj one of these days.
There's a lot to go through.
In the past, I've made the mistake of just boxing stuff up and moving it place to place, without seriously evaluating each and every item. Because, really, who has the time? But then I end up with boxes that stay packed for 2 or 3 years before I load them up again and move them to a new place. I counted once; I had moved 15 times in a 22 year period. Granted, some of those were dorm room moves, which is not the same thing at all as packing up a house, but still. A move's a move.
I know that Uncle Todd's Cabin is currently home to several unpacked boxes of crap. These "treasures" are so important that they couldn't be donated to Goodwill or given to a friend who'd appreciate them and yet they're not important enough that I ever bothered to open the box they were in. Silly.
I do have a box with some of my mother's things in it, just crazy little things that only I would want. One of her many housecoats, a bottle of the perfume she loved, hand-written grocery lists because I simply cannot live if I know I'll never see her handwriting again. Boxes like that, well, I see no harm in keeping and moving town to town.
But the boxes of old pots and pans, curtains from three houses ago, fridge magnets, throw pillows...you get the idea...those need to go.
I have a friend here at The Gilligan who struggles with what I'd assume is a mild to moderate hoarding tendency. She asked me to help her clean out a room and I gladly agreed. After a couple of hours of sorting items with her, I really came to see the painful battle she was waging against her stuff. EVERY thing in that room was important or useful, at least to her. EVERY piece of paper her kids had ever colored on was there, along with yards and yards of fabric for projects, photos of the family, knick-knacks from her family's military life overseas. All of these things did have either monetary or sentimental value, but because she assigned value to ALL of it, NONE of it ended up being valued. Because it all mattered so much that she couldn't part with it, it got piled up, then the piles fell over or got wet or dirty or the papers got torn. So many of the precious items she has so ferociously refused to let go of were...ruined. She has been, in other words, loving her possessions to death.
I think one reason my friend has difficulty letting go of things is that they're not wealthy. Sometimes, we hold on to items because they represent security. I remember in my own hoard-prone days, I accrued and kept things that were largely useless to me, because a wealth of "stuff" made me feel less broke. ("How can I possibly be poor? I have eight cookie sheets!")
Another reason we hold on to things is the money they represent. I am very guilty of buying clothes without trying them on. When I get home and they don't fit, I set them aside thinking I will just run back to the store in the next couple of days and exchange them. And then a month goes by. Then two months. And then the store won't take them back. I used to keep the clothes, out of guilt for having wasted money on them. Keeping them with the tags dangling in my closet was a reminder of my stupidity and wastefulness. And they were perfectly good clothes that had cost perfectly good money. And who doesn't enjoy a good dose of self-loathing every time they open the closet door?
Now, though, I'm making a real effort to be a more aware shopper. To try on clothes or at least really look them over before buying, to see if there are any fit or comfort issues that I can see at the outset. But when I mess up....and I will mess up!...I am really going to try to return them quickly and failing that, donate them with a happy heart to a charity.
Because, even if I don't always realize it, I am richly blessed. I have enough. And I am willing to let go of some of the extra.
It just all seemed too much, so I plopped down in front of the computer instead.
No updates on the Taj MaHell as of yet. I had hoped that we'd hear something yesterday, but I guess we won't be updated during the process at all. One day (soon, I hope), we'll just get an email telling us when/where the closing will be. We'll close by mail, but you can do an actual face-to-face closing if you want.
In the meantime, I've been poring over paint swatches and reading product reviews, making lists, making more lists, losing the lists I made and happily starting over because I love lists! One thing I did learn is that no one makes a paint you can put on an old stove, so we're stuck with the apparently functional, butt-ugly one at the Taj. The cheapest 40-inch stove on the market is pushing up on $800, and that is just not in the budget until the old one keels over.
So, what's a girl to do when she's anxious to sink her teeth into a new project but there's nothing to do? Me, I'm going on a purging rampage! I'm going through the Gilligan's Island house, tossing anything that is no longer useful or that I never wear, etc. I'm streamlining and simplifying my drawers, closets, cabinets and bookshelves. I'll do the same thing at Uncle Todd's Cabin (our current Mayberry address) in preparation for the big move to the Taj one of these days.
There's a lot to go through.
In the past, I've made the mistake of just boxing stuff up and moving it place to place, without seriously evaluating each and every item. Because, really, who has the time? But then I end up with boxes that stay packed for 2 or 3 years before I load them up again and move them to a new place. I counted once; I had moved 15 times in a 22 year period. Granted, some of those were dorm room moves, which is not the same thing at all as packing up a house, but still. A move's a move.
I know that Uncle Todd's Cabin is currently home to several unpacked boxes of crap. These "treasures" are so important that they couldn't be donated to Goodwill or given to a friend who'd appreciate them and yet they're not important enough that I ever bothered to open the box they were in. Silly.
I do have a box with some of my mother's things in it, just crazy little things that only I would want. One of her many housecoats, a bottle of the perfume she loved, hand-written grocery lists because I simply cannot live if I know I'll never see her handwriting again. Boxes like that, well, I see no harm in keeping and moving town to town.
But the boxes of old pots and pans, curtains from three houses ago, fridge magnets, throw pillows...you get the idea...those need to go.
I have a friend here at The Gilligan who struggles with what I'd assume is a mild to moderate hoarding tendency. She asked me to help her clean out a room and I gladly agreed. After a couple of hours of sorting items with her, I really came to see the painful battle she was waging against her stuff. EVERY thing in that room was important or useful, at least to her. EVERY piece of paper her kids had ever colored on was there, along with yards and yards of fabric for projects, photos of the family, knick-knacks from her family's military life overseas. All of these things did have either monetary or sentimental value, but because she assigned value to ALL of it, NONE of it ended up being valued. Because it all mattered so much that she couldn't part with it, it got piled up, then the piles fell over or got wet or dirty or the papers got torn. So many of the precious items she has so ferociously refused to let go of were...ruined. She has been, in other words, loving her possessions to death.
I think one reason my friend has difficulty letting go of things is that they're not wealthy. Sometimes, we hold on to items because they represent security. I remember in my own hoard-prone days, I accrued and kept things that were largely useless to me, because a wealth of "stuff" made me feel less broke. ("How can I possibly be poor? I have eight cookie sheets!")
Another reason we hold on to things is the money they represent. I am very guilty of buying clothes without trying them on. When I get home and they don't fit, I set them aside thinking I will just run back to the store in the next couple of days and exchange them. And then a month goes by. Then two months. And then the store won't take them back. I used to keep the clothes, out of guilt for having wasted money on them. Keeping them with the tags dangling in my closet was a reminder of my stupidity and wastefulness. And they were perfectly good clothes that had cost perfectly good money. And who doesn't enjoy a good dose of self-loathing every time they open the closet door?
Now, though, I'm making a real effort to be a more aware shopper. To try on clothes or at least really look them over before buying, to see if there are any fit or comfort issues that I can see at the outset. But when I mess up....and I will mess up!...I am really going to try to return them quickly and failing that, donate them with a happy heart to a charity.
Because, even if I don't always realize it, I am richly blessed. I have enough. And I am willing to let go of some of the extra.
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