just ask for help

 "...if you need any help, just let me know."

it's something you hear all the time. in stores, from people, pamphlets and commercials.

just ask for help.

why didn't you ask for help?

what help?

where?

last week i received a 14 day pay or vacate notice for my apartment. there's several things that bother me about it- mostly that i've only missed one month of rent (technically 2 i guess since i can't pay this month either).

they included 3 pages of: "if you need help" information including legal aid, rental assistance, and mediation.

i called legal aid. after grilling me on all my resources- do you know how particularly humiliating it is to be asked "if you held a yard sale today and sold everything in your home, how much would you get?" and have the answer be *maybe* a few hundred bucks? BECAUSE I'VE TRIED TO SELL EVERYTHING AND IT AIN'T WORTH SHIT. paintings? nope. stupidly expensive vacuum? nope. collectibles? nope. clothes? nope. NO ONE WANTS MY STUFF, OK? but thanks for that extra little shovel full of rock bottom. after grilling me on resources and suggesting things i'd already done, they just told me to fill out the mediation form.

the rental assistancesheet? one resource for people living outside city limits and the other for covid relief funds, already publicly announced as completely depleted several months ago.

so, in reality, zero resources in their three pages of resources.

and that's just the most recent example.

WHERE DO YOU ASK FOR HELP?

during that same phone conversation with the not so helpful legal aid intake, the guy made sure to ask all the painful questions: family? friends?

dead or in other cities.

besides, have you seen what the last two years have done to EVERYONE?

 

it's bothered me all week. how many times a day on the news, social media, in person do you hear OVER AND OVER AND OVER: JUST ASK FOR HELP.

how many times as a kid did i ask a teacher or a grown up for help and the answer was "i can't do everything for you, figure it out."

how many times have i asked for help at work just to hear "...not my job."

how many times have i asked someone for help only to find out now i "owe them something?"

how many times have i asked for help only to be ridiculed for being weak, incapable, unintelligent, or a hundred other hurtful demeaning things.

when i was leaving a domestic violence marriage, and asked my mom for help, she told me it would be too embarrassing for her husband at work.

when i asked my brother for help leaving the domestic violence marriage he told me "...you can only ask family for help so many times before they stop showing up."

when i asked my mom for help after her husband sexually assaulted me she said "...what do you want me to do? it already happened."

when i asked my brother for help after his roommate raped me he said "...[roommate] wouldn't do something like that, he's the sheriff's son."

when things were going bad with my second son, i asked the police for help. the cop looked at me and said "...it's time to start being a mom" and left.

after the first big covid lockdown, when were finally allowed outside again with masks, i asked a friend for help with feeling isolated and alone- maybe we could have an outside bonfire, distanced, with masks. their poly group as a whole voted no. there's a particular pain in having a whole group vote not to help you.

when i was having a mental health crisis at work due to staff shortages, workload, isolation, work from home, no managers, no resources...after several emails and requests for help they fired me.

i've been job searching for 6 months and yeah, there's "help" available. classes with bad information/instructors, burned out workers who forget who you are between contacts. suggestions to apply for jobs that destructive and demeaning (no, i do not want to work for amazon.)

really, where is this help? what does it take to get help? what even is or would help look like at this point? 

therapy? they're either not taking new clients, don't accept insurance, quit a few weeks in (had a counselor and an EMDR therapist both quit their jobs in the same week.)

i know better than to ask doctors for help anymore. i'm fat and female and poor. three strikes.

and yes, i fully acknowledge i have been more than lucky; i have drained the luck well dry over the years with the help that i HAVE received. i was able to get housing leaving the dv marriage because of an amazing social worker and landlord. i have an amazing friend that has been absolute life support helping out financially the last year. over the years i've had people help me move, watch my kids, watch my dog. i'm one of the absolute lucky ones that HAS had very critical points of help.

how many haven't had anything?

how many haven't have anyone at all?

and then you start adding layers in: how many haven't had energy to ask for help? the resources to get to or use the help? education or knowledge on how to utilize the help? how many have been abused/grifted/taken advantage of by "helpers?" in some of the darkest situations, how many have called a hotline to be disconnected or put on hold?

it feels, too many times, like paperwork and red tape and hoops are there to drain the non-existent reserves of people asking for help INTENTIONALLY to make them...go away? (where is away?) if they just wait long enough, maybe we won't need help anymore.

how many, like me, have been shut down, ignored, or attacked for asking for help? which then makes even asking a monumental task.

programs are out of funding. workers are burned out. resources aren't available. 

sometimes you figure it out.

sometimes you end up writing a blog post at 2 am because you don't know what else to do.

i need HELP.

i need people, i need a job, i need security and stability and safety. it's pretty clear i'm fucking it up spectacularly on my own.

i just don't know where to find help.

PLEASE ASK FOR HELP

Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

@800273TALK

who ever said "time heals all wounds" is a fucking asshole and a dirty liar.

eight years ago today my little brother made the heartbreaking decision to end his own life.

that wound is still very real.

sure, i don't flat out break down and cry and need days to recover whenever i think about it now, but i still think about it. ALL. THE. TIME.

birthdays. holidays. seahawks games. whenever someone orders a miller high life. whenever veteran suicide is in the news. whenever i think about family. whenever i think about tattoos.

how he would be 35 now. 

can i imagine him as a 35 year old? i still can't imagine myself as a 35 year old and i'm 37 now.

if you die the second time when the last person says your name, steve still has a few years left to stick around.

i've never been mad at steve. unfortunately i understand suicide. i've been in that dark corner. i've fought that demon. i've stared into the abyss and, somehow, always found a reason not to jump off the ledge. i'm heartbroken steve didn't find that reason the last time, but i can't be mad at him.

steve suffered a massive TBI just a few months before. he literally had half his skull opened to relieve pressure on his brain after an accident. this 27 year old kid went from being super physically fit, extremely independent, creative, vivacious, to having to relearn everything, medical bankruptcy, being dependent on others and losing his life as he had it set up.

the TBI also brought to the front some PTSD from being in the first wave of OIF/OEF that has cost thousands of soldiers their lives after returning home. i won't get political. i will just say we NEED to take better care of our soldiers. (please check out the IAVA to see how you can help prevent veteran suicides and support OIF/OEF soldiers).

the hardest part for me is that for the last 8 years i've wondered if i could have helped steve.

we weren't close. we weren't ross and monica by any stretch of the imagination.

i didn't get to grow up with steve. he lived with my dad and his mom. we spent spring break and 2 weeks during the summer together. i think i learned more about him while cleaning out his apartment after his death than the whole sum of our childhood.

i knew basic things growing up- he was the bratty little brother trying to keep up with the older brothers at any cost. he was the daredevil willing to do the dangerous stuff. he was vibrant and creative. when they moved into the new house, steve painted his room in BRIGHT primary colors- red on one wall, yellow on another, blue on a third. he had a massive bright red chair. he was always drawing, his pencil portraits were breathtaking. he was great at sports and almost as good at tattling as i was. 

cleaning out his apartment i got to see how organized he was, everything in it's place. his art work was all over the place- drawings, wire art sculptures, off beat decorations (chicken feet slippers on the feet of a bookshelf still makes me laugh). talking to his coworkers and friends after the funeral i learned how dedicated he was to people and how dedicated they were to him. pictures showed a kid that liked to have a good time with friends- outrageous costumes, adventures, just hanging out on the beach.

the only time steve ever called me was on my birthday, just a few weeks before his (both september babies), only a month before he died. he called to place an order for tacos, no sour cream, extra tomatoes, delivered right away please. i told him the delivery fee would be really high and the tacos would probably be cold by the time i got them to him. he was ok with that.

it should have triggered me. as cool as it was for him to call me, it should have made my ears perk up. it was so out of the blue and so unexpected, i should have been more aware. i have a hundred excuses- it was my birthday, i was getting ready to go out with friends, i didn't know how hard his recovery was going, i didn't know...

if i had know. if i had taken the time to connect with him more as kids. if i had...

if i had been able to tell him i get it. i get dad/brother pressuring you to grow up and pick a career. i get feeling alone when you're surrounded by people. i get having everything in your life not turn out how you planned. i should have offered to let him come stay with us while he recovered. i should have told everyone to fuck off when they told me it wasn't necessary to drive to seattle and see him while he was in the hospital. i should have...i should have been a safe place for him. i should have tried harder to let him know he wasn't the only one. i should have found a way to let him know he had more options than he saw. 

so yeah. wound: not healed.

all i can ask, all i can beg of people now is PLEASE ASK FOR HELP. ask in bold words. some of us aren't smart enough to catch onto nuanced taco orders.

PLEASE ASK FOR HELP.

being stuck on this side with the should haves, the what if's, the regrets, it's selfish to say, but IT SUCKS. please don't do that to someone.

and YES, there will ALWAYS be a someone with those regrets.

PLEASE ASK FOR HELP. if you can't talk to friends or family, please call the suicide hotline, hit them on twitter, go to their website.

PLEASE. ASK. FOR. HELP.

call me. hit me up. ANY TIME.

i'll bring tacos, no sour cream, extra tomatoes. we can have a miller high life and talk. any. time.

ps: steve, you would have love/hated the seahawks game yesterday. they ended up winning, but there was plenty to yell at the tv about before the final whistle. love you kid and miss you every day.

raising the warning flag

 

if you don’t let people know there’s a problem, they can’t help you find the solution.

there isn’t a problem.

yet.

i’m filling the sandbags and preparing the emergency packs just in case.

i’m being honest, i’m being truthful, i’m trying like hell to head the stampede off at the ravine.

i’m terrified of the month of august. hell. i’m terrified of july thru october. there’s so much that just- i can’t really prepare for it, i just have to be aware and recognize and say when i need help.

it’s been three years since we lost tyra and baby roman. if you’re not familiar, tyra was my oldest sons step mother. she was a BEAUTIFUL young lady. the best thing to happen to my sons father. she was a pure, sweet soul that impacted everyone she knew in only the best and most positive ways. she passed away due to complications during childbirth and baby roman was only here long enough to be baptized before he went to be with his sweet mother.

as that was happening my brother steve was in a severe accident that left him in a medical coma for several days and started the path to his life ending a few months later in october 2009. august was the month we watched him struggle in the hospital. september we watched him go through rehab and thought he was getting better. that year was the first time he had ever called me on my birthday (ours were just a few days (and years) apart). october we lost him to suicide.

two years ago this august i lost my dad.

my kids will be leaving this sunday for a MUCH NEEDED mommy vacation. i love my children. i can’t imagine ever not being with them. but i need a break. there is no tag team parenting here. there is no wednesdays/every other weekend off. this will be the longest time EVER that i will be without my kids. EVER. in the last 14 years. i’ve had a week off here and there. i’ve even had two weeks off-ish (with a day in between transfers). this will be three full weeks without kids. it’s great. i need time to refresh and rebuild.

BUT.

that’s also a LOT of alone time. during the hard months. i know i haven’t deal with 80% of the grief. i’ve been busy, distracted, head in the sand over the last two years. i’ve avoided and held it together because i’ve HAD to hold it together. i’m more than a little worried that there will be too much “thinky thoughts” time during the next three weeks. i’m worried that known triggers will get to me. the autism cruise scares me because it was the next day i woke up to the news about my dad. the cruise didn’t cause it, it’s an illogical association, but it’s associated.  when i got the news about tyra, steves accident, my dad- my kids were gone staying with someone for the week. now they’re going to be gone staying with someone and i’m already on edge worried about what news will come this time. my kids being gone didn’t cause anything to happen. same as the boat cruise didn’t start my dad’s fire. but it’s there. it’s a reminder, a trigger.

so. here i am. asking for help. i’m getting pretty good at watching myself and recognizing things for what they are. doesn’t mean I won’t slip or that someone else won’t catch it faster than  I will. We all know how it’s easier to see things in others than ourselves.

of delay tactics, spaghetti and shadows

welcome to the first attempt at delaying the inevitable- oh monday…you are a CRUEL CUREL mistress. how does the saying go? the shitteth hath hitteth the faneth…or it’s about to at any rate. it’s more of a slow motion bag of poo flying towards the ceiling and the fan blades looking ready and willing to spread the shit equally amongst all below…imagine a terrantino movie…you know what’s coming, you’re wincing already, and there’s no way to stop it…

why the monday morning drama? one of the other office gals is out for EIGHT WEEKS and i get to be her while she’s gone. she’s been in this job for 25ish years and knows EVERYTHING. i had 20 minutes with her on friday to get a tip into what’s going on…so…you know…NICE. so. instead of diving on in and just taking the bull by the horns, i’m standing on the sideline, trying my damndest to blend in with the walls, hoping the bull either never comes or wanders on past and doesn’t notice me.

delusions are nice, aren’t they?

BUT. believe it or not, i actually DO have something to say. a real point. so it really isn’t a delay tactic…oh…yes it is. BUT I DO HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.

so. the new boy (still haven’t figured out a name for him yet…) came over to dinner last night. this is pretty epic considering two things: #1 i didn’t expect it to last this long, and #2 he said he would be uncomfortable being around my kids due to the whole attachment/not sticking around long issue. whatever. it’s not like i’m all: “hey kids…meet your new daddy!” or anything…i’m more like “hey, my friend is coming over for dinner, try not to kill each other in front of company.”

like i said…delusions are nice, aren’t they?

so. it’s interesting to get a new person’s perspective on your little family every now and again. it’s like a check up or a mid-term test. see how they perceive you, if you’re doing a decent enough job that strangers aren’t sent screaming by your family…you know…make sure we’re allowed out in public and all.

so. it’s interesting getting a new perspective. it’s even more interesting getting a perspective from a different culture. see…new boy is from a different country. a VERY different country. and they have different ways of looking at things and reading things and dealing with things. you all know about my spawns. now imagine looking at them from an international perspective. it was very interesting.

so. new guy came over for dinner. our family is odd. i let my spawns be their odd little selves and don’t think much of it. we had spaghetti for dinner. THANKFULLY, the spawns were done eating before the new guy got there because really, how the hell do you explain spaghetti tacos? but my kids think they’re the greatest thing ever, so i let them have spaghetti tacos and waited for new guy to have regular spaghetti myself. but they were finishing up when he got there which was AWESOME because it delayed the inevitable curious swarm for at least a few minutes. but then the swarm hit and…fuck…it’s FUCKING ANNOYING. all the “i just need one more drink” or the “but i just wanted to ask you something” interruptions. they’re just being curious and checking things out, but FUCK it’s annoying. nothing like making someone new feel like a fucking animal in the zoo that they want to gawk at. the worst is the little one. the INSTANT someone is in our house he is a fucking super glued shadow. one of my biggest pet peeves. see…he’s not a hugger- he’s a leech. it drives me UP A FUCKING WALL on the best days and even worse in front of other people. he can’t hug me and walk away. he has to HANG on me, pet me, grope, maul, and you CAN’T GET HIM OFF. i’m trying to serve up dishes for the new guy and myself and there’s this BLOB stuck to my back, WRAPPED AROUND ME, hanging on like a bug on a windshield going 90 on the interstate. I FUCKING HATE THAT. i love my kids. i do. but i need my fucking space. BUBBLE PEOPLE. this is why i hate it when he asks me to snuggle on the couch- it’s not a normal snuggle where you curl up and watch a show. it’s MAULING. like being wrestled by a grizzly. and it’s CONSTANT MOVEMENT. he can’t sit still for the god lovin life of him EVER. there’s always some kind of motion…petting, crawling all over, adjusting position, SOMETHING. drives me fucking batty.

so. here i am, trying to get dinner with a leech stuck on me, oldest one is trying to find the most inappropriate movie to watch possible (step brothers- sex scene and offensive language in less than 5 minutes…just great for the international/under 13 crowd). off to a great start. FUCK.

so. we finally get a DECENT movie in and the new guy and i are trying to eat dinner and the kids are, by some small miracle, quiet for a moment.

*deep breath* this might turn out ok…

by the way…who puts fucking tobacco on spaghetti?? not that i’m one to talk with spaghetti tacos and bbq sauce on regular tacos and some of our other “in house” creations…but tobacco? on italian food? BLASPHEMY!

so. it’s calm for a moment. kids are normal. new guy is eating (my pasta was a little al dente’ for his taste, but other than that i think a success). then new guy looks at me and says: “the older one? he will be your smart one. the little one? he will be your evil one.”

umm…spot on anyone? in 15 minutes he had a very accurate read on my kids. IN A WAY…hold on, let me explain. i don’t necessarily agree with “evil” but partially: YES. little spawn is very mean and vindictive. he knows how to ruin a day for EVERYONE if he doesn’t get his way, and he has a habit of being extremely vindictive if he feels he’s been slighted or mistreated in any way. part of it is his personality, part of it is the aspergers. and when you add that in, in MANY foreign countries, they view things like depression or aspergers or other mental conditions as “evil”. maybe more so in older times, but it’s still a common thought today. and really, how do you explain aspergers to someone from a middle eastern country? they either don’t have things like that, or don’t have the diagnoses we have. aspergers is still a new diagnosis in the united states and we tend to need a name for everything…other countries just say sick. we say 24 hour flu or stomach virus or food poisoning. so what we call aspergers, they probably call a difficult or “evil” child.

so. intuition, observation, whatever…in just a few minutes he has a read on my spawns. he has met them one other time by the pool at my friend’s house…so this wasn’t completely a cold read…but still…DAMN!

so. we finish up dinner and his after dinner black tea (lipton had to suffice due to lack of actual black tea) and we headed outside for his post dinner smoke (a smoker…i know…ME...tells you what a doll he is). as we’re sitting out there chatting, small spawn comes out literally every three minutes with some kind of question or tattling or SOMETHING. this did not go unnoticed. at all. like i said, it’s frustrating enough when it’s just me…i can’t get anything done around the house. i can’t wash dishes or get ready in the morning or go downstairs to do laundry without a koala pack…add to it trying to talk to someone and have a little time away from a kids movie.

and people wonder why i don’t try to date. the nights i DO get to go out with anyone there’s always a huge crying/guilt fit because i’m leaving, if i stay home and have people over i have a shadow glued to my side interrupting the whole time…it’s so unbelievably frustrating. and if i say anything to the small spawn he instantly dissolves into huge tears…

and people always say…oh, they need your time and attention. yeah, but NO. they have my time. they have ALL of my time. the small spawn does it because he KNOWS it will make people leave. because he’s jealous. he’s one of those kids that you could spend a whole week with doing everything he wants to do, not spending a minute apart, cooking, doing crafts, playing games, watching movies, then the one time you go to the bathroom he FREAKS OUT that you never do anything with him and you never spend time with him. i wish i were exaggerating…but it’s really that way.

and it’s hard to make people understand that i’m not neglecting them. i’m not ignoring them. all a new person sees is the small window of time they’re there. they don’t see that the WHOLE REST OF THE DAY was spent at home with just me and the kids. the WHOLE DAY. so then the one hour when i have someone over and the spawn freaks out…oh…he just needs time with his mom. NO. he’s had 10 hours with me today. he just wants his way and wants other people gone. we spent ALL saturday afternoon, ALL sunday together. just us. no distractions. then sunday evening i have someone over and you’d think i’d locked them in a closet for the last 900 years and never paid attention to them ever.

i just. grr. and it got to the point sunday night where the new guy felt so uncomfortable that he left. he was so aware of being checked in on and watched that he made up and excuse and left. and knowing him, that will be the only time it will happen. he won’t be coming over again when the kids are awake or around. he won’t “take my time away”. he won’t. it’s just the way he is.

so then i have to go back to being a 10pm-5am girl. which is just a nice feeling let me tell you. nothing says trollop like only having people over well after dark and leaving before the spawns get up. but it’s what i’ve been doing for six years. so. you know…also makes your neighbors REALLY like you.

ok. i think i’m done venting and delaying…guess it’s time to actually get to work…none of these stacks made themselves disappear yet…guess i’ll have to do it…

oh yeah: AND HELP ME NAME THE NEW GUY. really. i can't come up with anything on this one...

what would YOU do for a klondike bar?

so. i have a problem. see, my oldest spawn is smart. i know...all together...POOR NANA. but seriously. he's smart. like wicked smart. like he really needs to be a lawyer because he can argue his way out of ANYTHING. he would make the supreme court look like a bunch of arguing toddlers...oh...wait...hmm...maybe not the best example...anywho. he's wicked smart. over the top jimmy neutron brain smart. and why is this a problem? i'm smart too after all...but...shhh...if you tell him i said this i will bust your knee caps: i'm not as smart as him. i can't keep up with all his arguments, and how he remembers things, and how he can think of excuses. because while i'm smart too: i'm busy! there's life, and another spawn, and work, and a million other things, and the oldest spawn knows this. AND HE USES IT.

so...how smart is he? well, he's in this special school. for smart kids. he had to take a test and be recommended by his teachers to get into this school. it's a school of ALL smart kids. and he's STILL bored. i've never once seen him do homework or study something and he's still getting 3/4 grades (on a 4 point system). he can figure out almost anything after just a few minutes. he's freaking wicked smart. which is making him LAZY. and by LAZY i mean he won't do a damn thing EVER and throws a complete temper tantrum if i make him. and if you know me, you know i don't tolerate tantrums in my house...but what this kid does is something even beyond tantrums.

the last time he was really in trouble at school i took away tv, the ds and went the extra step of taking away his art work. sounds odd, but it's what he LOVES. he has often been in trouble at school for drawing in class, he loves making his own shirts, the kid is an art freak. so, what better way to get his attention than take away the most important thing? holy. epic. meltdown. screaming, crying, literally pulling his hair out. telling me he had no other way to express himself besides his artwork and i was destroying him by taking it away. (drama queen much?). but, i stood my ground and the art work was gone until all his homework was caught up and his school work was being turned again (hard to do, but i refuse to give in to drama tantrums).

well, here we are again. last night he had a report due for school (deadline is this wednesday). he asked if he could use my laptop to type up the paper. i asked to see his rough draft first. he didn't have one. so i told him he needed to write one out before he would be allowed to type it. and so the battle began. I DON'T NEED TO WRITE ONE. I GET THREES AND FOURS THE WAY IT IS. told him i don't care what grade he gets, i want to see effort in his work. if it's so easy, he should be able to get all fours without a problem. and around it went. it actually ended pretty quickly because there's no point in arguing with an 11 year old until i'm in tears (lesson learned the HARD way. plus, i don't have the greatest temper control). i went to do dishes and the rest of the house went quiet. i assumed (bad) that he had gone to bed. it's a small apartment: two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen. that's it, and i didn't see him anywhere. i finished the dishes, did my work out, and in the middle of step aerobics out he crawls from behind the couch where he hid so he could play his ds and NOT write his rough draft. at this point it's an hour after his bedtime. "well, there's no clock back there". REALLY? i should have known to put a clock BEHIND THE COUCH...silly me. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? it's a good thing i was well into my aerobics and didn't want to stop. oh. my. FURIOUS. so he S.L.O.W.L.Y. went to bed (push a few more buttons kid...see what happens) and i have spent the last...oh...14 hours completely frustrated and out of ideas. before school today i told him i WILL see a rough draft tonight. he is grounded indefinitely from the game boy and tv, and i'm thinking of taking away the art supplies again. HE NEEDS TO DO HIS SCHOOL WORK. but doesn't need to because it's so easy for him. i have books at home with current events and last time around i tried making him pick out one of the articles and writing two pages about it, but after about 10 battles on writing a report vs. copying out of the book i gave up (bad mommy, i know).

i just don't know what to do with him. he is not motivated AT ALL to do ANYTHING. i've tried grounding, taking things away, adding extra work, using chores/school work to earn wii time, i just don't know what to do. he's fine and dandy from the school's point of view because he's getting ok grades, but NOT FINE from my view because he's putting in NO effort. he's too smart for his own britches. damn my good genetics! sheesh.

apparently the answer to the question: what would you do for a klondike bar in OUR house is: wait til mom is completely worn down, then just take it. don't earn it, don't work for it. just wait it out.