Thursday, September 12, 2013
3.43 Miles Surprise
When I'd first seen this picture over my phone I couldn't tell if it was Isaac or Gianni. "Close ups!" I'd requested of Saray. Isaac it is, but we'd been texting about Gianni and his entrance into Honors Classes, yeah boy, that's what this Abuelita wants to hear.
"CINDY!" I heard the men who'd been working on my roof hollering as if they'd fallen, so I, of course with all my trauma issues, flew out the door to check. One of 'em was holding up a huge snake he'd caught, wanting me to see it. A harmless black snake, if anything it's rather helpful, eating any field mice that wanna crawl up under, and inside of, my house, or other rodents that might nibble at my plants.
I allowed them to admire it for quite some time, then I asked them to just set it free. It's protected by the Georgia Department of Natural Resources, and I like it, even if it scares the peaturkey out of me. I rarely see it, it likes my presence even less than I choose its company.
I think my cable and Internet bill is supersonically high, until I divide it by the number of us that daily use its benefits, no water bill since I have a well, my electricity bill galls me, and then I also get irked at taxes and insurance costs. I work on tweeking my budget constantly. This new, lovely tin roof, has put me in a 40 month payment bondage, but we didn't wanna drown in our beds, and then there are the cell phone bills that I absolutely won't cut. Call it anxiety, but I want my kids to be able to reach me at any time.
And strife, Lord Have Mercy, I hate it. I despise confrontations and disagreements. I'm not one of those who would've liked a debate team, besting someone in an argument. I'd just rather agree, smile and agree, and move on. OK, you win, who cares? I don't. Thus now my ease with which I fall into a disengagement mode when needed
So ironically, I live with those who are extremely oppositional, who thrive upon clashes, one entire sibling group who truly, deeply believe that revenge is demanded upon them, deep within their psyches, real or imagined slights must be avenged. I never was able to break through that destructive line of thinking, no amount of therapy prevailed, they would not budge in their deep seated belief that hurting someone physically must be done on their part. It was extremely disturbing to behold.
Another entire sibling group was, and still is, severely oppositional. Another entire sibling group (represented here in two out of the three photos used today) loved order and cleanliness - they were never in foster care, rather were in abject poverty in another country and they deeply appreciated everything, rather than setting about to destroy it all which is very common behavior amongst abused, neglected and traumatized children in the American foster care system. Another entire sibling group had rather severe emotional disturbances, another was high strung and unfocused. One group was right normal, another stole me blind. We've run the gamut of behaviors.
I sit here now with entire sibling groups grown and gone, it's only the dangerous ones with which I have no contact, that's not exactly true as actually I do have contact on their part in many instances, still reaching out to me, weirdly so, as if they have no conception of the Hell they put us through, three having gone to prison, not jail, but prison. I believe all are out now, ex-cons still emotionally mixed up.
But even while in prison, two out of those three would use someone's smuggled in cell phone to call me. I'd react strongly, "Don't call me like this, call me collect properly," me not wanting to participate in clearly being complicit in breaking rules. No, thank you. Do it right. But Cindy, if they did stuff right, they wouldn't have been arrested, convicted and imprisoned. Another quandary to contemplate.
On GMA there's a Doctor Vs. Doctor family feud, where a "good" family implodes, garnering attempted murder charges. I'm not saying we're not a 'good' family, we're a different family. I'm saying all families have some issue or another, everyone's dealing with something.
I feel terrible inwardly that some of my children were never ever able to bond within our family, but I completely understand their 'why nots.'
"Well, I'll tell you what," a lady told me last night at church, having substituted at the high school yesterday, and becoming deeply involved in a long talk with my most severely oppositional kid, now 16, "He sure does love you," she continued, telling me that he went on and on about 'our' gardens, as if he actually spends time out there for any reason. Sarah sitting next to me cracked up laughing at the very thought. I'm not sure he knows where my gardens are even located, as they are not in his video games.
I do know he loves me, he really does, but on some level there's still very deep confusion and a profound primal hurt at all the abandonment he's suffered, even though he's been with me as long as he can remember, the unreachable pain is still there.
I completely understand their love, and their confusion, for their birth parents. I have no jealousy over it at all, only sadness that these human beings committed crimes that put their children in foster care and/or did not, or maybe could not, complete the safety plans required in order to get their children back.
This sweet substitute teacher has been subbing since my almost 40 year old Sarah was in school. "Did you teach my mom too?" JoJo asked her. "No, Honey," she'd answered him, with the infinite patience he needs, "I'm not that old."
And ending on a fun note, for me that is, my 5K a day attempts? A mere 3.1 miles in order to feel better about myself? I used a new run tracker app, a GPS that informed me I'd been hiking 3.43 miles all these years, up to the paved road, down another dirt road, crossing a paved road then halfway across a cotton field that conveniently has a wide path for the harvesting machinery. Yay me!
Nerd that I am, I'll push further through the field until I'm certain I'm at 3.5. Piece of cake, allowing me time to concentrate on podcasts, learning and thinking.