Thank You Bella. I have over the years called just about every church in this town all to no avail. Usually I get one of 3 answers. We only help our own. We are out of funds, or we just don’t do that. Charities mostly seem to be one way doors. They take donations. They do not give handouts. Or worse what charities take in is not what they give out. This statement comes from some helps I have had a Christmas time in the past. Though I know that with the particular agency I am thinking of here it has only gotten worse over the years. I nearly break down in tears each time I see some caring individual put a terrific toy in their drop boxes at Christmas time knowing that instead the child will get a few paltry items donated from the local dollar general store. I did not ask them for help this year. And the thing of it is that with the government aid I get I can survive (at least until either the malnutrition or the massive amounts of over the counter pain killers that I take added to the perscription ones finish me. That has been an agonizing route. Before you council me to back off on the medicines know that without them I could not walk, or do any of the things required to care for my granddaughter and the State and Government are giving all the help they are going to with the Welfare and SSI. I have to do for today. I do not have he luxury of caring for myself for tomorrow too.) But I am sick of surviving while life surrounds me. I am wrung out from watching life, experiences pass my granddaughter by, just like it did her mother’s, aunt’s and uncle’s.  I have a gift, a wonderful talent and all I am doing is wasting away. Most people know the changing of the days and seasons by the plans they make, the experiences they have, the vacations and places they go to. I know them by the changing weather and looking on a calendar. Doing that for a while after escaping an abusive husband is fine. But to do this long term, never fulfill a single hope, dream, ambition, torture does not begin to describe it. I agonized over investing in this laptop, $60.00 a month that could clothe or shoe my granddaughter. But I already know from my adult children’s destroyed lives that survival, just meeting the basest of needs is not enough, not when you live in a country that has and requires so much more. So I made this investment with the sole purpose of finding help. I have enough art for a show. I have hundreds, perhaps thousands of photos that if printed could be shown. I finished my first book of poetry over 10 years ago. I have 1 printed out copy of it. I can survive. But it is survival itself that is killing me. After over 20 years here in C B and nearly 2 years on the Internet and coming up empty while life goes on and I continue to deteriote I have just decided that I can not bare to pretend through another Christmas that it is OK that I do not matter, I am not worth anyone’s time, consideration, money. Only those who do not have to face the lonliness, the emptiness themselves can so easily say that Christmas is just for he kids. I can not spend another birthday alone, impoverished, just surviving another day. I beleive in euthanasia. I do not think anyone should be forced to go on when every moment is an agony and that is where I am now. Would I rather live? You bet I would. But, I am not living. I am surviving and not very nicely at that. Even the rapist, bank robber, drug runner, child molester, all have a light at the end of the tunnel. They all have a more or less known date when they will be free. Free to be with loved ones, free to experience life. Free. They do not have to "hope" for it. It is real, tangible, a date they can plan for. I do not have that. That is what I want. I do not want anymore help surviving. One more meal, a slightly better coat, another worn peice of furniture, yes but no. I may have ended my husbands abuse, saved my children from a pedophile but it was at the cost of destroying our lives. I removed us from  society, life and placed us in the dungeons of survival. I want a career, a career that I am naturally talented at, a career that I love, a career that is not completely obliberated by my physical disabilities. I want to work and support us. That is what I want. That is what I applaud about the people that helped it the above article. They did not just give a man a fish and walk away, leaving him to starve tomorrow as was done to me. They gave the fish, daily as needed then also at the same time provide rod and reel and string and hook and took them to well stocked lakes and taught them to fish for themselves. Then when that was done they provide the final needed step they took them to markets that wanted their fish. I have number 1. I even have part of number 2, having taken the photos, writen the book, and made the pictures. It is without the rest of number 2 and without number 3 that I have been stuck in a permanent limbo. Can you help me find those resources?  

Yes, there comes a point where without resources no matter how hard one works they are stuck in limbo. They will never succeed unless someone steps up to the plate and helps them. I understand this all to well. Though I get SSI for my disabilities and a token Welfare for raising my granddaughter it does not even cover the basics anymore muchless let me frame and market my art or pursue my other talents. So though I am a wonderful artist, photographer and poet almost no one outside of my children even knows that I exist. Instead I am slowly dying of malnutrition, inadequate medical care that leaves me always struggling with dehibilitating fatigue and excruciating pain, and worst of all unrealized hopes and dreams. Years of survival while watching the life all around me has worn me down to the brink of insanity. So now instead of planning a great Christmas for my granddaughter and me I am planning my death. People need to understand that while we all have the power to decide to end our lives, only others hold the keys to the prison doors of survival to free us into life. Just as I hold the key to someone else;s life so someone else holds the key to my life. You and the people that have partnered with you are doing a wonderful thing. Because of you many people will be able to stop surviving and truely enjoy life. Thank You for caring enough to help others.  

Thank you. I had not wished for any of my children to know. But I needed o push my daughter into getting herself together to take on the role of raising her daughter that I have raised from birth. My other two children also are not financially and home stable. They live with other people. Also there is only one copy of my poetry, which all three love and would want. I can not make more copies. The same of course of the art. And similiar applies to the photography. I weary of hanging on. And find such thoughts weigh me down even more. I hope to be gone by Christmas. I mearly wanted people to know that it is people that are important not things. Physical death is merely a formality. I died long ago when I traded life for survival. Now I seek to rectify that mistake. Death is a key that we each hold ourselves. But; life I have learned, is a key held by others. Invest in your fellow man and you turn the key that frees them to life.  

I would invest in people. I care about humanity. Not things! I’d rather just sit with my arms wrapped around my granddaughter, feeling her every breath, her heartbeat than play a play station game. I’d rather see a train covered by amazingly painted grafitti than a plain one. Plain trains scare the countryside. Grafitti covered ones are amazing motion pictures of technical creativity. I will be dead soon. My daughter wants me to leave a will dividing out my property- namely art, photography and poetry. I do not wish to bother with such trivial details in my last days. I do not wish to be remembered as the artist that never was, the silent poet, the tethered photographer. I want to be remembered for my love, kindness, compassion, etc. Those are the things worth remembering. those are the qualities worthy of investment. Invest in people, else they fade away distant ghosts of half memories. And then they die.

Contemplation.

A penny for your thoughts.

Oh, kid how ironic that you should write this now. I just took a minute to check my mail. I was in the process of wiping out my myspace. All that is left is my photos, blog and two family members. Like I said I do not think I was ever meant to be. Even my mother knew that. And my adoptive mother not only hates my artisticness she wanted me to grow up to be a successful business woman. She even had my IQ tested before she adopted me when she found me in the German orphanage at three years old. I score 142. I have been noting but a disappointment ever since. Even she won’t lift a finger to help me. Like I said I am not in here for myself anymore. I am in here or others. Have a good one girl.

I agree.Though first let me say that it is good to find someone else who understands what I was saying in the fishing anology. I never meant to ask for help. I have spent 20+ years looking for help. I do not expect to find it now. I have been trying to educate others so that other people like me will maybe have a chance. The nature of help in this country needs to change. And it is us who have not gotten it or been give the wrong helps that know that best. If I do not stick my neck out and try to teach this then who will? Funny I once gave a similiar answer when helping to build habitat houses. The leader for the branch here asked me to apply for a house myself. I told him I had tried before and been turned down because my income was too low. He then asked me what I was doing helping to provide something for others that I myself was in desperate need of.  Rarely do people who have not lived it step forth to help. No I am not expecting my own salvation. I am trying to save as many otherpeople as I can. If opening myself up to horrible anger, abuse and recrimination results in even one person being helped, rightly then it will have been worth it. As for you you have every right to ask the organization you’ve done so much for to help you now. You have every right even if you had never lifted a hand to help someone else. Go ask them for that help. And beleive that it shall be done. Good day to you, Snooks.

I am sorry you lost your friend to poverty (the poverty being her poverty of mind). Knowing that others are worse off use to keep me going too. But now I realize that how we handle poverty or how poverty handles us is not one size fits all. I have been raped more times than I have fingers and toes. Been homeless with and without children. Had an abusive husband. Had abusive parents. Buried a newborn child. Those did not break me. But missing the ocean is so beyond devestating. I am dying more of a broken heart than even the multiple medical problems I have. I want to travel. I am chained to not only one place but also one of my least favorite landscapes. I love variety and adventure. A common prison inmate has more variety in their life than I do. And it drives me crazy having so much talent that is not completely wiped out by my physical disabilities only to be dependent upon the Welfare system for survival. And it is just cruel to be so poor that people hate me because they can not understand being too poor to help yourself. I am judged continuously by the stigma of Welfare. People do not have a clue. Nor do they want to have a clue. I do not even have a friend to invite over for the coffee I can not even afford. I have been my own adult company for over twenty years. No it is not the hunger, pain, fatigue or freezing feet that is so bad. It is missing the ocean, never just going to a movie or a carnival, not being able to do more to help others. I wanted so much to do something like the Peace Corps. I want to build homes, schools, clinics. Care for orphans, help with the crops. I want to do hands on work in Africa and other places. And if blessed to also do some photojournalism in those places. I am wasting away in this town, on this couch. I’ve done nothing to be missed.

Is it refusing assistence if the assistence offered will not or already has not worked for you? You expect me to fish with lots of encouraging words; but, no pole or other equipment. Then when I end up invariably starving you are mad at me for my ungratefulness, unwillingness and termidity at turning else where for help. If you were looking for help and I tried my best to help you; but, it just did not work for you would you just go quietly away and die happy knowing that you did not offend me by looking else where for help. Or would you say Thanks, now who else has a different suggestion? You tell me to keep trying and not give up; yet, you are angry when I do just that. And I suppose when I die from beinging given all the wrong helps which boils down to being nothinged too, you will be releived to be rid of the big mouth that just wanted to live like anyone else. As for the lone beautiful girl how long would you be willing to be estatically grateful for base survival before you fell apart. Animals only need food and shelter to be happy. Humans need more. If I were an animal I would be estatic with my life. It is survival that is killing me.

Thanks for your line about the poor needing treats as well. Most people treat me like I am the worst of criminals for wanting to just go go watch a move or, an amusement park or carnival or God forbid a vacation. Some give me the worst of looks when they see the large bag of organic popcorn I buy each month. they haveno idea that it’s not a treat for me. It is usually my food for the day.  I try not to mention how bad I want a vacation in here because people get so mad.

Thank you.

Thank you. Truthfully I am not expecting help. Not for me. My time is nearly up. I’m OK with that. I mainly write in here hoping to educate people who think to help others like me. I figure no one knows better than us who are living it what we need. I want people to stop taking it for granted that handing money over to an agency is going to improve the lives of those they seek to help. Sure some charities do use that money to help. But just as people are leary of sending money to countries that after decades of charitable contributions are the same or worse off, I want them to see that the same is true of the US. I also want them to know that thousands if not millions of people are suffering here too. And I want them to know that the most effective way to help is still the old fashioned one on one approach. It is also important that we give the person what they know they need not what we think they need. I can not help everyone. I am not offended if someone tells me thanks but no thanks. The help I can give is not right for them. They are not being ungrateful. They are being honest so that hopefully someone else will become aware of their need and help if possible. I also want people to know that as long as things continue as they are people like me will continue to get nothinged and inadequated to death. How is Shea to ever understand that that is what happened to me? She can’t that is why I want her to move wih her mother and mother’s boyfriend and then later her mother can tell her I was killed in an auto accident or something like that. I have raised Shea on random acts of kindness as a lifestyle. I do not want her to become bitter and decide not to do for others just because others would not do for me.

And I do not expect you to understand but it is what I do have that is killing me physically and mentally. I am overwhelmed by all that I do have which is none of what I would choose to have given the opportunity of a choice. I have been out of the loop for so long that I can no longer even picture what I do not have no matter how badly I want it. All I can see is what I DO have. That’s the killer.  Peace girl.

I apologize. Some of the advice you had given I had already tried and got nowhere. Oter advice was more suitable for someone which more resources than I have. I appreciated you trying to help. The reason I answered as to the effectiveness of the advice was so that if someone else reading with more ideas or resources would know that I was still in need of help. When I give Sheas outgrown clothes away I am not offended if some of the clothes come back to me because for what ever reason they are unusable or even unliked. Nor would I be offended if they went actively searching for more help elsewhere since I can not meet all of their needs. Also a thing is only a miracle to the person who can not do it for themselves. The clothes I give away are a miracle to the mother who can not provide them herself. As for not giving enough see the calluses on my hands and feet. Count the dislocated bones in my body, watch me crawl when the legs will not take another step, watch me struggle to do the things most people never think twice about. See how many painkillers I take just to do these things. The amount of painkillers I have to take just to do what is to others the basic ordinary things is so much that I know I am doing serious damage to my organs. But I have a child to care for. All I have is the here and now and no one is interested in helping. So I do what it takes knowing full wel the consequences are deadly. I give everything I have and way so much more just for hers and my survival. And I pray to God that I do not drop dead while she is still in my care. No I do not want to give up. I would rather live. But living is not a one player deal. Nor can I do the things I am doing to myself indefinately. One may Survive without help; but no one, absolutely no one lives without help. I just wanted to live.

The only wearable shoes I have right now are flip flops. So shiver a lot when outside. What would you think of me? Would you think me lazy, impoverished (yes, financially I am), uncaring, free-spirited, artistic (I am), too poor to be worthy of help? Though I love being barefooted first then flip flops, then boots what I am able to wear at this time is a testimony to my resources not my personality.

Thanks, I get what you are saying abou victims and survivors. I admit that after 20+ years of surviving it is very difficult to shake the victim personality especially when you have been a survivor for so long that you can no longer see any difference between victim and survivor. Besides when your "quality" of life does not extend beyond survival you have nothing left to measure with to draw the line between the two. Things have changed a great deal over the years when it comes to the Welfares, none of those changes good. A lot of things do not make sense. Case in point my daughter is assessed $259.00 a month plus $50.00 a month for child support for Shea. My Welfare grant for Shea is $18.00. that’s a difference of $126.00. Yet, I do not get that money. The State keeps all of the money. SSI’s idea of not penalizing me is that I am only kicked off if I gross more than $674.00. Anything less and they they do cut the SSI based on how much I earn.  And earned income (from working) is figured differently than unearned (like grants) with earned income they allow a tiny deduction. None is allowed with unearned income. I can not run money through my children’s bank account for two reasons. The logical being that none are well enough off to have a bank account or computer for that matter. The other being that that would just be plain wrong. What a quandrum that one must consider defrauding the system to have any chance at life; yet, to not do it is to be condemed to a life of less quality than the common incarcerated prisoner.  As for freecycle I check that ever so often. I am just to tired and worn out to continue bashing my head against the same old walls hoping that maybe the next time I will break through.  With every passing day my health and I suspect sanity are deterioting. I am able to accomplish less and less with each new day. I will not have my seven year old granddaughter be responsible for caring for me. She has to do too much to help me already. I am no longer healthy enough to pull myself up by my own bootstraps (if I even had any to begin with). No I have went so long without the resources to do it ALL by myself that now even with the resources I would still need help. I am a guess to the point of needing a miracle. People always ask me what "I" am willing to do for myself. I say look at the calluses on my hands and feet. Count the dislocated bones in my body.  Watch me divide the meager food between Shea and myself, see me crawl when the legs can not take another step and then ask me What "have I not done."