ADHD or How I learned to get things done.

For years I have had the diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Click on the link here if you don’t know what that is.

When I got the diagnosis at the ripe age of about 7 years old they started me on Ritalin. This was not a bad thing however this was just as they were trying to figure out how to dose us kids back in 1980. This was also decades before I figured out that I hyper-react to medication. In other words I was severely overdosed.

I called the pills my “downers” and later learned to describe the effects as a pharmacological lobotomy. It killed most of my emotions and responses to things that were happening around me. It made me flat and a zombie. I told a doctor years later that “sure I could focus, but it took me four times longer to get anything done.”

I was on Ritalin from the age of 7 to age 11 (the point where I flat out refused to take it anymore). I vowed at that point to never take anything like that again. For years I self medicated (coffee and smoking) and denied that I needed any meds or if I admitted I needed meds that it wasn’t bad enough to merit trying anything like that again.

Till this past Monday.

This past Monday was the culmination of weeks of a downhill slide, which in turn had followed decades of struggling with trying to make and keep appointments, balance my budget, make it to work on time, keep up with work and get my life organized.

The start of the downhill slide was quitting smoking. I quit smoking June 5, 2008. Six weeks after removing a large stimulant from my system I was in the doctors office nearly begging to be put on something, anything, so that I could function. I had hit the point of not being able to do anything, not even the things I looked forward to. I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t follow a conversation, I couldn’t figure out where to begin with something, I couldn’t stay on task. I was losing my mind.

I was also driving those around me crazy.

My partner had to put up with me not being able to talk on the phone with her for more than 10 minutes before I had to go. My Mom (of choice) would watch me sit down, stand up, move around, jump from one topic to another in a conversation, and watched me be impulsive financially. Mom knew what this was because her daughter has ADD too and so she understood because she had been down this road before. (She had been encouraging me to go back on the meds for a long time.) My coworkers watched as I got more and more behind in my work.

My state of mind was subconsciously demonstrated the night before I called the doctor when I was fixing something for mom and was holding a drill talking with her about something. She looked at me and said something about it isn’t that bad or something. I looked over and realized that I had it pointed at my head like I was going to drill a hole in it. Yeah, that was about how I felt. I didn’t have the heart to look at mom for a minute after I put the drill down. It was a bit too revealing how accurate that pose was.

So, on Tuesday morning I called my doctor and got an appointment for that day. Mom wrote up talking points for the doctor since I could no longer pull things together in my head nor could I explain things coherently. Armed with my list I went to the doctor.

First thing the doctor said after looking up my records (no official mention of the ADHD there) and reading my list was “I guess you should be taking some medication for the ADD huh?” I said “that is why I am here” with a bit of a groan.

I went on to explain that yes, I did hold out too long but with what I went through the first time on meds combined with the chance that these meds may spark a Manic episode and the fact that up till I quit smoking it was manageable, why would I take the risk? She was more understanding after that. She prescribed Adderall for me in a light starting dose to see how it goes. I am to return in 30 days for a check-in, how you doing type of thing, and another 30 day prescription. (I call it being on a short leash. It works for me.)

I took the first dose way late in the day knowing that it would screw up my sleep. Hell, I wasn’t sleeping anyway so I figured at least it may make staying awake more interesting. :-) The first dose was a miracle! It was like Holy Shit I can sit still, I can focus, I can actually do my job! Woo Hooo!

The doc had told me that I would notice the difference right away but I didn’t really believe her too much. I hoped but I didn’t really believe. Each day has gotten a bit better. Till today where I feel like I am beginning to get my life together. This really is much like when I went on meds for the first time for the BiPolar. Its like “Wow, so this is what life is like for everyone else?” Later my thoughts were, “yeah, I should have been on this a while ago.”

There have been some interesting learning experiences this past week.

Adderall, if you don’t know, is an amphetamine. Essentially it is speed. (Speed kills man! Yeah, couldn’t resist.) This drug, in ADD or ADHD folks has the opposite effect than in folks without ADD/ADHD. Basically it slows us down and helps us focus.

I wondered about drinking caffeinated coffee with this amphetamine. So, Wednesday morning last week I tried a bit. Ooooo that was not a good idea. I drove to work that day looking like Tweeek from South Park. My eyes felt like they were really biiiiig. When I turned my head it didn’t feel like my usual slow turn to the side, it was like “whaPAH” and I was suddenly looking left. I don’t think I blinked for like three hours. Yeah, I quickly decided that it would be decaf coffee for me.

Then a few days later I couldn’t stay awake. That was ok for the weekend where I can take afternoon naps but not so good for weekdays where I have to work. I put just the teensiest bit of caffeine back in and that was ok. So now, it is about ½ and ½ for the first two cups then decaf for the rest. I will be asking the doc about the can’t stay awake thing. Perhaps the dose is a bit high? Donno, will find out when I ask her. I learned long ago with the BiPolar not to fuck with my meds. Don’t go off them without approval (read supervision) of the doc and support from family. Don’t change the dose, don’t! do! anything! without the doc and family knowing and supporting. It is a short road to crazy and I have a more direct route than most.

In writing this post I did a bit of research and found a lot of stuff that is making me say “oooooh, that’s why” a lot. It is hard looking at this stuff and at the same time, it is comforting. Hard cause I have to face what a mess my life is in, literally with my room, my truck, my desk at work, financially with lots of stuff that piled up cause I couldn’t deal with it. Comforting cause what I am reading and learning are steps to combat the usual stuff that goes on with ADHD folks. I read this and its like, wow, I’m not alone or lazy or stupid or crazy (all the things I have secretly said to myself over the years). I really do, as much as I hate to admit it, have a disability that makes some things a lot harder for me than for other folks.

There is a part of me that is looking forward to the adventure of succeeding with this. After so many years of struggle and failure it is neat to begin to see what I really am capable of now that I don’t have one arm and one leg tied behind my back.

More later…

Where do I begin

Where do I begin to get all of these things out of my mind? So much is in there. The trip to Ohio. The seeing my daughter after six months of waiting. Losing my grandmother. Contacting an attorney to get visitation rights spelled out. Reconnecting with lost family. Thanking my mom of choice in a deeply open hearted way for all the love and support she has given me. Starting a new medication to help with the severe ADHD that I had denied for years. That med allowing me to drop a few more of my emotional walls.

All of this was just in this past week.

Where do I begin to empty my head a bit so I can sleep better?

Stream of consciousness seems to be the key. Not thinking and just typing. Whatever comes to mind in whatever form.

This week, I thanked my mom (of choice) for all that she is to me. I put it in the form of all that she has done for me but that is not what I meant. Nice thing is, she knew that.

I have to add the descriptor after her “title” so to speak because I am interacting more with my Biomom as I am calling her. That would be my mother of origin, birth mother would be another term. She is…

ohhhh. I think I hit close to why I am not sleeping.

My biomom (short for biological mom) is in large part the reason I did not see my father’s family for 10 years. (See the July 16th entry in this blog) I am very angry with her right now. She separated me from half of my family and instead gave me her family as the only option. This family consistently treated me as less than because I asked questions, couldn’t sit still, wasn’t the pretty little girl in a cute dress and didn’t play with dolls. A family that looked good from the outside but were not what they tried to present themselves as. A family that, to me, is more interested in “winning souls for JESUS” than they are with talking to/with people and getting to know who they are trying to “save”. The family that when I came out as gay, chose to believe what they heard in church from their pastors rather than read the bible and turned me away. My Aunt even went as far as to tell me that “satan has written his lies all over your face”, after I had opened myself up to her and told her my story. My story of knowing in my deepest being I was born gay and my years of struggle to stifle and kill that part of me. Imagine being that vulnerable, just months after coming out to yourself, only to be met with being told by someone you loved that it was a lie. (I have been trying for years to forgive her that. I just can’t seem to let it go.)

My mother had good reason to limit my contact with my grandfather (Fathers father). He had problems that I don’t want to get into here. Perhaps another time. I understand her wanting to protect me.


But, I don’t understand her wanting to protect me.

This is the same woman who told me that she hates me. This was not when I was an adult that she did this. All through growing up I heard this. I got chills one time when I did the math about Roe v. Wade and my birthday. Had I been a little bit later I probably wouldn’t be here. This woman that I owe my birth to… it is a shame. I try sometimes to be compassionate toward her. Not tonight. Tonight I am pissed. Shit, not just tonight. I have been this way an entire week since I was in Ohio and realized that the stories that she told me about my father’s family were only one sided. They were told to me to accentuate the negative about them. They were told to me to control me.

ooooooooh…. another moment of understanding.

Is this what I am angry about? Am I angry that my birth mother still had this control over me 10 years after I started to remove myself from her suffocating grasp?

Or am I angry that I allowed her to manipulate me like that for so long. That for so long after I became “an adult” that I still let her run my thoughts and actions and beliefs. And that this “training” had continued even after I thought I was done letting her.

Or, is it just the fact that I am angry at missing the last 10 years of my grandmothers life. That, when I sat across the hospital bed from my Aunt, I had to ask my aunt questions about my grandmother that I should have known. I didn’t know what her birthday was till I read it on the hospital wrist band… last week… a few days before she died. Her birthday was in the same month as mine. I never knew that before last week. I didn’t know that she has two brothers living that she didn’t have any sisters. I learned last week that the Cherokee heritage comes down through her. I learned more but I don’t want to put it here yet.

I got the chance to tell her that I am doing well. That I am studying to become a Shamanic Practitioner. When she asked me what that was I told her that I was studying to become an Indian Medicine Woman. I was floored when her eyes got really big and she got a huge smile and said “that’s good”. She was proud of me. It was wonderful seeing that look, even though it was behind an oxygen mask.

I was accepted and loved for who I am. No hiding what I thought or felt or who I am. I was just loved.

I helped care for her for a bit before I had to tear myself away to return home to go back to work. I wasn’t afraid to touch this frail woman. In fact, it was hard not to keep stroking her hair, even when she was sleeping. I held her hand for as long as I could when I visited her.

Then, too soon I had to come back home. I knew I would not see her again in this life. I was right. She dropped the robe this past Monday.

My biological mother let me know of Grandma’s passing via a text message to my cellphone.

Yeah, my biomom really is that heartless.

I am sleepy again. Perhaps this was what needed to come out of my head. More tomorrow after I buy some tissues. I thought I had some around here but I don’t. So, I have to make due with fast food napkins that I scrounged up. Not too soft those…

Letter to My Family of Choice Back Home

I am in Ohio. Location of my family since just before the Trail of Tears in 1836. I find myself looking around and merging with any number of times, 1980, 1974, 1995, all of them. I see things that have been here for nearly 30 years (the sign outside a Baptist Church) and things that are new (The Panera Bread place I am at now). Makes me wonder what year it is sometimes. (I will splaine more sometime but not now...)

As you all know (if ya didn't I apologize) my Grandmother (Father's Mother) was not doing so well. Tuesday evening they weren't expecting her to make it through the night. She did make it and is now doing a bit better. She ate something this morning for the first time in a week. She woke up for a bit when I was just there a little while ago and we talked a bit. She has an oxygen mask on so it is a bit hard to understand her. She lost a LOT of weight so she is not the large, loud, wonderful woman that I remember. She is thin, and frail, and looks like if you looked at her too hard she would break. Still one tough bitch though! :-) I can see it in her spirit even if I can't see it in her body.

I have spent time with my grandfather as well. He has changed so much in the last 10 years. Perhaps the throat cancer has him thinking about his mortality and what went on in the past, I don't know. I do know that he is MUCH quieter (not just verbally, but emotionally as well). Less demanding and less needing of being the center of attention. Perhaps it is just the fact that as tumultious as his marrage has been to Grandma, this is his wife of more than 60 years who may be transitioning, and he does love her. This is the first time I have ever seen it.

I have spent a good amount of time with one of my dad's sisters (Nancy) and ran into one of his brothers (Brucie) at the hospital. I am still wanting to see his other brothers (Terry and Eddie) and sisters (Connie and Cathy). Those reunions should be interesting... They are all pissed at my dad (Teddy) for not coming up and as his "unofficial representative" I am getting a lot of the "Why didn't your dad come up?" kinda thing. What do I say? I just say that he isn't doing so good these days cause he is drinking too much and try to leave it at that. What the hell, why not tell them that his drinking is out of control. Interesting thing is everyones's drinking up here is pretty much out of control too. Irony is my middle name these days....

At last count I had 26 first cousins. This is a bit of an advantage given that I cannot remember people's names. There are too fucking many of us to keep track of so it is ok for me to ask what someone's name is. I am trying to start the trend of introducing ourselves to each other by saying something like "I'm Aimee. I belong to Teddy." just to give an idea where we come from. LOL I mentioned that to my dad this morning when I was giving him an update on Grandma and my Aunt Nancy about shot her coffee all over the place cause she was laughing. Good to keep the sense of humor when ya are completely overwhelmed. She by losing her mom (dad too soon cause of the cancer), me cause I haven't seen these people in 10 years and the mental/emotional whiplash is...

On my way up, I was very nervious about coming here. I am sure that I have told stories about some of my experiences with this side of the family. Spirit and I had a good conversation while I was driving. Spirit asked me to take everything from the past and set it aside and approach my grandparents, aunts and uncles from the perspective of today. I agreed to do that with a little caviat. Just as long as it did not compromise my safety or sobriety. I did this and wow. I can't wrap my head around some of this... I can't wrap my head around the fact that I feel like I have come home. That I am welcome, that I am family. I have never had that feeling with my Mother's side. I arrived here, after not speaking to anyone here for 10 years and I am welcomed with open arms. Not one person asked me why I haven't been back in 10 years. They just keep saying come back again sooner than ten years from now. Fucking wierd not to be judged or critisized in any way.

One of my Cousins (Cathy's daughter Alicia) was at the hospital last night. I remember when her mom got married (back in 1980 I think) I kept looking at her and saying in my head "I remember your mom's wedding... Damn that was a while ago wasn't it" considering this person I was hanging out with is like in her early 20's. She and I had good, honest and frank conversations. Talking about the family, ourselves, how we are doing, where we are headed type of thing. It was neat. None of the hiding information that I am accustomed to from my Mothers side of the family.

So, I am in Canton, Ohio, visiting with relatives that I haven't spoken to in 10 years. my mind is blown and I find myself asking a lot of questions about belonging, judgement, redemption, acceptance and forgiveness.

I find myself asking another question over and over.... Where are all the Black people????? Since I got here I have seen three. What the fuck?? :-) (Yeah I do keep asking myself that but I also needed the humor too....)

More soon. Love to all of you.

Rise up my Sisters and Brothers!!!

Freedom! Lakota Sioux Indians Declare Sovereign Nation Status

Threaten Land Liens, Contested Real Estate Over Five State Area in U.S.West Dakota Territory Reverts back to Lakota Control According to U.S., International Law

WASHINGTON, DC - December 20 - Lakota Sioux Indian representatives declared sovereign nation status today in Washington D.C. following Monday's withdrawal from all previously signed treaties with the United States Government. The withdrawal, hand delivered to Daniel Turner, Deputy Director of Public Liaison at the State Department, immediately and irrevocably ends all agreements between the Lakota Sioux Nation of Indians and the United States Government outlined in the 1851 and 1868 Treaties at Fort Laramie Wyoming.

The rest of the article is here

I want to say congratulations to the Lakota people. The obstacles they face out there are many and sometimes subtle. Imagine working for people that call you plains-nigger. Those are the people who would hire you if you go off the reservation to find a job. That is, if they would hire you at all. This leads to people being dependant on food subsidies. The food subsidies that the US Government (USG) sends to the Lakota are high in sugar. This would not mean much but for the fact that Native Americans have a much higher rate of Diabeties than the white population.

Diabetics shouldn't have high sugar food, it tends to end up in blindness and losing a foot or two then ultimately death. The average life expectancy for men on the reservation is 44 years old. That is the lowest life expectancy in the WORLD if you exclude HIV/AIDS. This is happening right here in America.

I can't describe very well what this means to me, someone who is of Cherokee descent. It is exciting and a little scary. I see this as another time for freedom but I also know that the US Government and especially this administration does not look kindly on uppity people. They prefer to have people quietly go into death.

I am praying that they have peace and hope and LIFE.

Here is the link to the Republic of Lakota webpage. http://www.republicoflakota.com/

Injustice anywhere

So, I am reading this article, about how doctors are legally able to deny care based on their religious beliefs. The article gives the story of a woman who was raped by a man she knew. Then in the emergency room, after the rape kit, the exam and on the suggestion of the rape counselor asks the doctor for the morning after pill to prevent pregnancy. The doctor coldly refused saying "it is against my religion" and just leaves it there.

Later in the article they say this...

"Even under less dire circumstances than Boyer's, it's not always easy talking to your doctor about sex. Whether you're asking about birth control, STDs or infertility, these discussions can be tinged with self-consciousness, even embarrassment. Now imagine those same conversations, but supercharged by the anxiety that your doctor might respond with moral condemnation — and actually refuse your requests."

To which I snorted. Yes, I literally snorted, because I thought "welcome to my world."

You see, if y'all hadn't figured it out yet, I am a lesbian. I am a partnered L E S B I A N.

Wanna talk about discrimination? How about these statistics from Cancerpage.com...

76% of women do not tell their health care provider about their sexual orientation

almost 25% of lesbians avoid getting health care because of fear of a negative attitude on the part of the practitioner

and best of all...

"One study found that 45 percent of the gynecologist-members of the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association said they had observed colleagues giving their homosexual patients substandard care. Another survey found that 40 percent of doctors said they were uncomfortable with lesbian patients."

So, here we are... just proving that discrimination that started out just against we lesbians, is now spreading to all women. Where will it stop?

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had it right when he said "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere"

Dad

Dad,
I want to start by telling you that I love you.

I wanted to talk to you tonight because I am concerned about you, mom and Christy. I have watched over the years how you have gotten worse with your drinking.

You are tearing yours, mine, mom’s and most importantly Christy’s lives apart with your drinking. You may not be aware of the damage you are doing when you drink. You most likely don’t remember the things you say or do when you drink, but dad, we do.

I do.

I remember nights not sleeping.
I remember angry yelling waking me up.
I remember blood on the wall and on the doorknob.
I remember screams in the night.
I remember ambulances and emergency rooms.

Do you?

I remember broken dishes
I remember broken promises.
I remember, all too well, beatings.

I know you remember yours from your own father.

You gave me a few too.

I also remember when I realized that my drinking was getting out of control.
Honesty time.
I remember realizing when my drinking had gotten out of control.
I remember my first day sober, and the second and the third.
Any many days after that.

I wish this for you.

I wanted to talk to you tonight about your drinking and how it is destroying everything that you hold dear.

Your wife

Your daughter

Your granddaughter

Yourself

I don’t know what memories you are running from when you drink.
I don’t know what feelings you are running from when you drink.
I do know that when I stopped running from them…

It was pretty miserable at first. I won’t lie. BUT, it was SO worth it. I wouldn’t trade sobriety for anything.

I will be honest. There are moments (and days sometimes) where I would really enjoy a bit of numb. I still have times where a shot of Vodka would taste really good.

But

Then, I ask myself, “but, would you want to go back to what you had before?”

Driving, singing, life and death

Driving up to see a friend
a friend who is dropping the robe

Driving up with a friend
a best friend, through thick and thin, life and death

Driving along, realizing that it is time
time too soon

now waiting to hear
to hear of the passing

waiting

and praying

for

peace, comfort, strength
for all of us
who are waiting
__________________________________________

Songs of death
Songs of life

Songs sung
Songs listened to

Songs sung to sing the spirit home
Songs listened to for comfort

Wishing for the language I am just learning
To be able to put words to what my heart is singing

Standing quietly
Waiting and listening
To the song being sung to her
As she sleeps
__________________________________________

Courage and cowardice
Flip sides of the same coin

Standing at the door
Waiting to be let in
A silent prayer

Let me be worthy
Worthy of this honor

Belief, Faith and Suspension of Disbelief

Any religion that demands that I ‘check my brain at the door’ is not for me. God gave me a brain and expects me to use it to the best of my ability. The brain is for more than basic needs. If it weren’t then it would not be as it is and we would not have been blessed with self-awareness.

This is not to say that I avoid faith or belief or even just the suspension of disbelief. All of these are very different than turning your brain off.

How about I explain…

Checking your brain at the door, to me, means you don’t question. You don’t question what you read or what is told to you by those in “authority”, either here on earth in the form of Pastors, Priests, Rectors, anyone in authority, or in Heaven. You don’t ask questions and you NEVER ask why. You are told to take everything that is given to you “on faith” or you are not a good Baptist, Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist, Mormon, whatever the flavor is. (I am limiting this to “Christian” beliefs because those are what I have personal experience with) You are told that if you question you are sinning and sinners go to hell.

The suspension of disbelief, to me, is where you do ask questions. Many questions. When sometimes you get the answers, you may not be able to believe them. However, you know somewhere deep down that they are true. You choose to suspend disbelief or you choose to believe (different things if you think about it) but, you are not asked to swallow information based on blind faith and no thought.

Growing up I made the mistake of asking a lot of questions. This did not please the pastors and priests that I interacted with. Some of the questions were the standard “why do bad things happen to good people” some were a bit more esoteric but all got the same or similar response. First would be a simple answer to the question, such as, “because there is evil in the world” answer to the bad things to good people question. If I pressed further I was actively discouraged, if I did not listen to the discouragement then I was told that I was a “girl and what did I know of these things.” Well, I knew what I didn’t know and that was why I was asking the questions.

Round and round I went, till I fell apart, and began the process of falling together.

I spent the better part of 3 years angry with God. Angry does not quite capture how I felt. Rage. Rage is a good capture of how I felt during that time. I was pissed off about the bullshit answers (or non answers) I got to my questions, great and small. I was pissed off at the abuse I had suffered all in the name of “god's will” and casting out evil. I was pissed off at the condemnation of who I am. Both the questioner and the orientation aspects of myself. I demanded to know why God created me this way but then condemned her creation. “Fuck you” was said to God a lot during that time. Sometimes I even embellished it with “and the horse you rode in on.” I even turned my back to her for a short time when I ran out of words but couldn’t stand not screaming something at her.

The entire time She just waited. Waited while I hurled insults, anger, pain her way. All the while being silent. The good kind of silence, the waiting kind, full of love and understanding. After about 2 years of this, She spoke and asked me “is it me you are angry at or is it my self called ‘followers’”? I had to rail for another 3 months before I would answer that question. I did finally answer it and spent the next 3 months angry that She did nothing to stop all of that from happening.

“I had a purpose in letting it happen”

“Fuck you!”

“I will tell you sometime what the purpose was, then you will understand”

“Ok but can you tell me soon”

“You will know when it is time”

“FINE”

Much later I did get the answer and now I am actually grateful for having gone through my past. If I had not, I would have no true understanding of the suffering of others.

So, to wrap up.

Belief that God would not strike me dead was what allowed me to be angry with God.

Faith is what allows me to hear her voice and understand what she is saying.

In order for me to be where I am today I needed to suspend my disbelief that God would allow me space to work through my anger.

Hope that cleared up my perception of the differences between those three.

But, I digress...

Sums it up

This entry from RuachX pretty much sums up the whole thing...

http://ruachx.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-more-moment-of-stupid-thats-what-i.html

Forgotten

I just had to look up an old boss of mine from 2002. No big deal. Couldn't really find her. So I called a coworker who was here at my company at the same time. She mentioned a few things that made me realize something.

Because of my drinking there is an entire year that I don't remember. An... entire... year.

Out of the whole of 2002 I remember seven events.

Someone dear to me's broken ankle
A fight someone dear and I had on the phone one night
Being in the hospital for 3 weeks.
The last time someone dear and I spoke on the phone
4th of July party
Going to the National PowWow
spending my 30th birthday in the hospital

Out of 365 days I remember 7 things.

Seven.

When I got sober the following year, I did not think my drinking had gotten that severe. After all, I still had a job (barely) and a place to live (thousands in unpaid rent).

This... this of all things makes me realize how bad the drinking had really gotten.

There are times when I wish I could be numb for a little bit. Times when things are so overwhelming I feel as if I can't take it. That is when I wish for just a bit of numb.

I was apparently numb for all of 2002.

JESUS CHRIST!

What did I miss that year? What conversations did I have with someone dear that I DON'T REMEMBER? What did I say?

Fuck, FUCK, FUCK!

Time that is gone... wasted time.

I will cry about this later. After dinner with a friend who I am certain will not understand.


What I am learning these days...

is that the hardest person to forgive...

is me.

Love your neighbor

Time to take back our country.

Not just in the form of our government taking our rights away. I propose that we take our country back in the form of helping our neighbors.

Check out this link. http://www.komotv.com/news/9907767.html This is a story from Seattle, WA about a family that was targeted for hate because of being Jewish. Their cars were spray painted with swastikas. The police are investigating this as vandelism until they can prove the intent of the shits that did this. When they prove it, then it becomes a hate crime.

Meanwhile

This family is in shock and horror. They are nervous that the next time they come out of the house in the morning the will find more shit to deal with. More peace lost.

I read this and the usual anger came up. "What the FUCK is WRONG with people?!?" A question I am asking all too often these days. Then the next question comes up. "What can I do about this?"

I suggest that (with the permission of the family) the "neighbors" of these folks start taking turns camping one person near their house to keep watch and make sure they are safe. The police are not able to do this due to staffing shortages and needing to respond to more urgent crises. I get that and agree with that. So, it is up to us. Not in a "gonna get those sonsobitches" kind of way. In a "I see someone sneaking around their house gonna call the cops" kind of way.

Better that then waiting till someone tosses a moletov coctail through the front window.

Cause you know that is where hate ends up. It doesn't stop with spray paint or burning crosses.

It would be even better if before it got to the spray paint stage, we talked to our neighbors. Saw them as truly human, not just "others." Different, yes, but beautiful because of that difference.

Black, Brown, Red, White
Fag, Queer, Straight
Male, Female, Male-to-Female, Female-to-Male
Old, Young
Rich, Middle, Poor, Poverty
Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Wiccan, Agnostic, Athiest

All of us. We are all one. If one hurts we all hurt.

Walking into the back room
to where all the broken memories and dreams lay

"Wow, this really piled up other the years" I say.

You say "Yes but, we can get through it"

The bookshelves were other things
Surface things
Yes, they needed to be organized

However

It is time (I guess) to go and sort through all the...

Clutter

Mess

Junk

I am getting ready to move after all

Who wants to take all the broken stuff
I would rather sort through and take the meaningful stuff.

Leave the rest

This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.

Perhaps that is why I felt the need for a break.

Could I feel this coming?

The change in venue is appropriate. Perhaps I was getting into a rut, with the safety of similarity.

Change is good.
I am starting to believe that.

The view is better
Higher
Good analogy.

"Come on up, the view is amazing. You should see this."

I am beginning to.

and

I am looking forward to the view from farther along.

Even though the rocks I will climb look terrifying.
I know in my head that the ropes will hold.
My heart isn't quite so sure.

I just need to put in a few more anchor points.

You know, just in case.