planting

I just spent an hour and a half in the garden.  I cleared a bed and put in some spinach, carrots, radishes and greens.  It is a good place to think.

My mind was wandering and I remembered being at the public pool when I was in high school.  I heard someone wolf whistle, and being a naturally curious human, I turned to see whom was whistling at who.  A guy in the class one year ahead of me saw me turn, looked at me and said,  "Not you."  I felt like someone punched me in the stomach.  My second thought was along the lines of Thank God.  I wasn't interested in being near him anyway.  We were in the same Spanish class and he was not a nice person.

I don't know why I treasure these thoughts.  Why are these the things that come back to me?  I don't remember the times people were kind or complimentary.

I remembered being about 15 and becoming a young woman.  Dad's brother really made a fuss about how good I looked.  Looking back on that now, knowing what we know now, that makes me feel a little creepy.  In fact I think I was a little creeped out then.  I remember Mom sort of whispering,  "Makes you kind of feel like you were ugly before..." or something like that. Way to turn a compliment.  Maybe that's why I can't accept compliments...

Anyway...I took off my shirt while I was gardening, hoping to get some Vitamin D going in my body. I looked at myself, and wasn't complimentary.

(Note to those who follow us:  I'm financially crashing right now, and asked my sister for help.)

You asked what is going on. I was thinking about that in the garden, too.  I think this year's crisis is from my daughter's surgery.  She hasn't been able to work.  It was over a month before her first disability check came in.  When she asks for help, I scrape as much support together for her as I possibly can. It's partly because she has the baby, but it's partly because we never had that.  We never had the safety of being able to ask for help and knowing it was possible and we weren't bad for asking. I have always been ashamed.  I have always "known" that I am not good enough. 

Part of this whole feeling is echoed or perhaps strengthened by our society - and it's the reason I get so angry about money.  I think anyone who works should be able to afford a decent lifestyle - not luxurious, not full of extras - but decent.  Safe, warm housing; utilities; clean, warm, running water; clothes, food.  In this culture it is very difficult to survive without a car, unless one lives in town.  So, if we live in a time and place where people must work to have the basics, then we should be paid enough.  It's the whole argument about the living wage.

Working and not being able to afford to live leads to increased shame.

But, this is the world I chose to be born into.  And so I have increased my hours to the maximum allowed by my company.  I am going to scale back all expenditures - see what else I can live without, and I am going to get ahead.  I can do this. The hard part is when I am asked for help.  I always say yes...

I am all right, financially, as long as nothing unexpected happens.  I need to get ahead...

But thank you for helping.  I appreciate having someone in my corner...

Love and hugs,

Clare