S for Standing Up

“Be the change you want to see in the world.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

On Friday, April 22—Good Friday—I walked into a Planned Parenthood Clinic for the first time in my life. The experience was a bit jarring, but not for the reasons you might think upon reading those words…

I entered the clinic to use the restroom. After nearly an hour of marching outside in the chilly weather, I needed a bathroom break. The reason I was a bit taken aback upon entering the clinic was that it was not what I had expected. You see, when I visit my family clinic for an appointment with my doctor, I walk into a warm waiting area where I am greeted by a receptionist who checks me in. This wasn’t the case at the Planned Parenthood Clinic in St. Paul’s Highland Park neighborhood. Literally as soon as I walked in the door, I was face-to-face with security guards sitting behind a security desk. Don’t get me wrong, the guards and the Planned Parenthood Escorts who were there were very warm, welcoming, and kind, but I was struck by the fact that security guards even had to be there.

I knew why, of course…

“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

~ Mahatma Gandhi

Protestors. Pro-lifers, specifically. They protest the clinic often (I’ve heard as much as daily), sometimes harassing its patients and staff, usually in the name of God. They seem to assume that every person who enters the clinic is there to take part in killing babies or to have her baby killed. Apparently pro-lifers don’t realize that abortions are but a small percentage of the vital services that Planned Parenthood provides. Today was different though. Today, the scope was much bigger…

Every year on Good Friday, hundreds of pro-lifers (also known as anti-choicers) show up at the St. Paul clinic to protest. I’m sure this probably happens at similar clinics around the country. They come to pray for an end to abortion and for clinics like Planned Parenthood to cease to exist.

In response, hundreds of pro-choicers gather to show their support for Planned Parenthood, a woman’s right to choose, and the vital services the clinic provides. I am proud to say that I was one of those supporters, which is why I had occasion to enter the clinic to use the restroom on Friday. This was my first time being involved in this, or any, rally and the experience was amazing.

I arrived at the clinic at around 1:30 p.m. I drove down Ford Parkway, passing in front of the clinic, in order to drive around the block to find parking; I will openly admit that I also wanted to see what I was getting myself into. I first drove past the anit-choicers. They were somberly walking in a circle in the temporarily fenced “pen,” formerly a traffic lane, which was designated as their protesting area. They looked like a walking funeral procession. A space as wide as the Planned Parenthood driveway separated them from the “other side.”

I heard the cars in front of me honking just as I approached the Planned Parenthood supporters, also in their own “pen.” I was moved to tears as I laid on my horn and reveled in the hoots and hollers from the enormous group of supporters. The feeling and energy coming from the group was powerful—they were smiling, waving, and jumping up and down. I was excited to soon be joining their ranks. I found a parking spot a block away, right behind the clinic. I could hear the honking and hollers as I got out of my car, and the noise grew louder as I approached the clinic parking lot to check in. The feeling was electric!

I couldn’t wait for MusicMan who, unlike me, hadn’t been able to get the whole day off of work, to join me. I was a bit apprehensive about joining the fray alone, but soon found out there was no need to be. Everyone was so kind and welcoming! I signed in, dropped of my food shelf donation, grabbed a sign, waited for an opening in the crowd of supporters passing by me, and jumped right in. A woman in the crowd began talking to me almost instantly. The same thing—spontaneous conversations between strangers—happened all day. It was as though I was with an enormous group of friends.

For the most part, it was a peaceful event. I can't discount the presence of the St. Paul Police as having played a role, but thankfully their presence seemed to be enough and no intervention was needed. A few pro-lifers who walked and drove by our area scowled, gave the thumbs down, or held their fingers up in the sign of the cross. (So, we’re demons and/or vampires now? Cool.) One guy screamed at us from across the street, but the honks of support and cheers from the crowd were too loud for us to hear what he had to say. It seemed as though every time the anti-choicers had someone on their PA system leading a prayer or hymn, or spewing their rhetoric, a bunch of cars would drive by and start honking to show their support. And, in what became almost a Pavlovian response from the crowd, we would holler and cheer back. I cannot appropriately describe to you the energy and spirit from this amazing group of people I was now a part of. We were a force!

Though I’d given monetary donations to Planned Parenthood plenty of times in the past, donating on Friday was too fun to pass up. Planned Parenthood was offering its supporters the option to pledge a protestor. The idea was the more protestors who showed up against the clinic, the more money was made for the clinic. Genius, right?! I found it to be absolutely brilliant and was delighted that money was being made on the backs of those who try their hardest to stop the good work this clinic does. MusicMan and I pledged a few protestors, because we believe in Planned Parenthood.

It has been proven time and again that sex education and contraception, both services that Planned Parenthood provides far more often than abortions, are key to preventing unwanted pregnancies. Unwanted pregnancies lead to abortions. Thus, it goes without saying that these key services are vital to reducing the need for abortions. It’s too bad the anti-choicers can’t do a little research to figure that out. The fact is that Planned Parenthood probably does more in one day to prevent abortions than pro-lifers do in a year. In addition to the invaluable services I’ve already mentioned, they also provide comprehensive medical exams, for women and men, including STD testing and life-saving cancer screenings.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know that I have some strong beliefs and that I have no problem stating them. Friday I got the opportunity to stand behind my words. I stood up for an amazing clinic and for women’s rights. Because I believe that women—not religious zealots or politicians—should have control of their bodies and reproduction. I appreciated the opportunity to take action in such a way. So much so that this will become an annual event for MusicMan and me, and instead of a two hour time slot, we will participate for as much of the day as we can.

My experience at Friday’s rally restored my faith in humanity a little bit. Seeing all of the support from people from a plethora of various ethnic groups, age ranges, and socio-economic backgrounds gave me hope that one day Planned Parenthood’s patients and staff won’t need to be greeted by security guards. Because maybe—just maybe—rational minds will prevail over irrational, intolerants ones and logic and reason will become the norm.

I leave you with some incredible photos MusicMan took to capture the day.

Cheering for the cars showing their support.

Look at all that support for Planned Parenthood!

A little dramatic, no? Pro-lifers doing a good job of illustrating just how superhuman Jesus truly was. I mean, he did carry his cross all on his own.

Typical pro-life propaganda. As this guy walked by MusicMan, he mad sure to flash this ultrasound photo. Dude obviously doesn't realize there are term limits on abortions. A fetus as developed as the one on that ultrasound couldn't legally be aborted....not at Planned Parenthood or anywhere else. Way to educate yourself there, Mr. Anti-Choicer!

This photo really illustrates some of the energy in the crowd of supporters. Despite the absence of any spring-like downright dreary weather in Minnesota!

  

I loved this woman's sign. It shows that one can be religious and have faith, but still be rational enough to realize that a woman's choice is her own.

C for Catching Up!

Hello, lovely reader!! I didn’t set out to be away from the blog for so long--time really flies. I’ve missed it and I’ve missed you, but sometimes life just happens! I’m sure most of you (if there are any of you left) can relate, and if you can’t, I am extremely jealous. I’m going to try to update you on the past three months, and I’m going to try to keep it brief. I’m going to break it out into a few areas, including section headings so that you can skip past sections you might not be interested in.
Okay, here we go!

SCHOOL
Taking three full-semester courses, meaning they all run for 16 weeks straight in tandem, proved to be a lot more difficult than I thought it would be! That is the primary reason I’ve been M.I.A. I’ve had some big writing projects for Philosophy of Religion and lots of reading to do for the class. I’ve also had lots of reading to do for my Biology classes. I had a large research project to complete for Biology of Women, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I basically just phoned it in.

Well, scratch that, I didn’t totally phone it in and I am a little bit ashamed. I did a lot of research and put together what I thought was a pretty good presentation; however, I blatantly ignored the part of the instructions that said, “You must interview a professional researcher/clinician on the subject.” I didn’t have time for that crap, nor did I need to learn how to interview anyone because I’ve done that before. I'd like to think that, more than anything, my purposefully ignoring part of the instructions speaks less about my character and more about just how burnt out I was feeling by this point in the semester. It has really been brutal!

It remains to be seen my grade on the project will be affected by my willful ignorance. It would appear many of my classmates ignored the same part of the instructions (as well as ignoring all spelling and grammar rules of the English language, but that's a story for another day). Even though projects were due over two weeks ago, they haven’t yet been graded. Yeah…my instructor for this online course is a total slacker (I know, who am I to talk?!) and it just irks the hell outta me.

Needless to say, I cannot wait for this semester to be over!

Speaking of this semester ending, I cannot believe that next semester is my last semester at Community College!!! In some ways, it seems like it’s taken forever to get to this point, while in others it seems as though the time has just flown by. I will have officially completed my second associate’s degree by the end of this summer, which brings me to some reeeeeeeeeeallly exciting news I have to share…

The second thing that was taking up quite a bit of my time was completing my application packet for the College of St. Scholastica’s social work program. I had to write a five page essay, collect reference forms, and complete two applications (one for the school, wait for acceptance, then one for the program). All that hard work paid off, because I WAS ACCEPTED!!! (Twice! Once for the school and again for the program. It is the latter that I'm most excited about.) I am over the moon excited to officially be one of the College of St. Scholastica’s Fall 2011 Social Work Students!

Though my friends and some of my family members had no doubts that I would be accepted, I had my reservations. The program is very competitive. Only about 25 students are accepted each fall, and only in the fall, and I am just beyond thrilled to be one of those students! I will officially start at St. Scholastica in September, and within 16 months, I should have my bachelor’s degree in social work! How exciting is that?!?! I like that the program is structured so that the schedule stays the same. For the whole 16 months, I’ll take classes Tuesday and Thursday evenings and one Saturday a month. Not only is it going to be nice to finally be immersing myself in social work curriculum, but it will be so nice to always have the same consistent schedule (rather than my schedule changing each semester depending on what and how many classes I take).

My last semester at Community College—summer semester—could be incredibly easy or rather difficult. It all depends on me. I have two competencies to do and I have one class to take. The class should be an easy one, because it’s a fine arts requirement. Right now, I’m debating between beginning photography and a couple of different music classes. I’m not sure which one to choose yet, but either way, it shouldn’t be too tough. The competencies are going to be the tough part. Both are very large projects, requiring quite a bit of research and time, so I’ll have to be diligent about setting up a schedule and keeping myself on track. My innate ability to procrastinate will certainly be tested.

JOB
As you may or may not know, I work for a broker/dealer in the investment research department. Recently, an employee of the broker/dealer’s trade desk moved to another position. Since she formerly served as a backup trader when phones got busy or one of the traders was off for the day, the trade desk needed a new backup trader. I have the appropriate licenses to execute mutual fund and stock trades, and my current job is under the same umbrella (leader) as the trade desk, so I apparently was the obvious choice.

At first, it was an exciting new opportunity and I was pleased that I would finally be using some of the licensing I had been forced to get years ago yet never used; however, it’s getting to be overwhelming. In addition to serving as a backup trader, I also took over some of this former employee’s job duties. Someone seriously underestimated the amount of time it took her to complete the tasks I was given, as I find myself now buried in work. It doesn’t help that I’ve been called to backup on the trade desk for three hours every day this past week and at least two to three days a week in prior weeks. When the desk gets busy, it’s hard to multitask. One can’t exactly take explicit instructions to trade thousands of dollars of someone else’s money while simultaneously completing any other task. It just won’t work.

So, work is suddenly incredibly busy and overwhelming. I went from having weeks at a time with practically nothing to do to not having enough hours in the day to get everything done. It’s a shocking change that comes with many frustrations. I somehow need to figure out how to balance it all and how to get everything done. I have become even more thankful that my time at this company, and in this line of work, is limited. There is at least an end in sight!

HEALTH
I am still smoke-free!!! Over three months, in fact. Actually, over 100 days! 106 days, 13 hours, 23 seconds (as of this writing), to be exact. It’s mind boggling that I haven’t smoke 1,598 cigarettes! (GROOOOOOOOSSSSSS!) I’ve also saved 12 days and 4 hours of my life so far and $481.50. I’m still feeling really good about the decision to give up cigarettes and I grow stronger in my quit each day. It’s interesting, though, how one healthy lifestyle change can snowball into others…

I joined Weight Watchers online towards the end of February. I decided it was high time I do something about my weight rather than just whining about it. I’ve never had what I would call a good or healthy relationship with food. Part of that stems from lack of knowledge and part from never really having had a good example set. My mother seemed to be in a constant battle with her weight as I grew up. That, combined with the fact that we lived just above the poverty line (and sometimes way below it), meant we didn’t really eat a lot of nutritious, balanced meals. (Anyone else remember how vile government cheese was?) I was also taught to stuff my emotions with food, rather than to express them. Yeah…not so good.

I realized I didn’t want to end up like my mom—so desperate to lose weight that I put my life in more danger by undergoing surgery. My mother, while better and healthier than the last time I mentioned her in this blog, will likely battle various illnesses for the rest of her life as a result of her surgery and her inability, or resistance, to change her eating habits forever.

So far, I really like the Weight Watchers program. It’s not a diet!!! It’s a lifestyle change, which is exactly what I needed. I’m learning to eat a healthier, more balanced diet and I’m learning portion control. I’m also eating a lot more real, whole foods. The program cautions against depriving yourself, and I don’t. I still have cake, and cookies, and whatever else I want. I just don’t have them every day, and I eat appropriate portions. I don’t do, or eat, or not eat anything I’m not willing to do, or eat, or not eat for the rest of my life, because I want to be able to maintain (indefinitely) exactly what I’ve done to lose this weight.

I’ve learned to make smarter choices, and I am being rewarded for my efforts. I’ve lost 13.9 pounds so far, averaging over a pound and a half per week, which of course feels fantastic. But, my instant gratification personality struggles with this a bit. I would like to see the weight come off faster. However, just as I didn’t put it all on over one day or in the course of a week or so, it’s not going to come off that way either. I also know that losing weight slowly and steadily increases the likelihood that that weight will stay off, so while this make take longer than I'd like, it will be worth it. I’m certainly having to learn how to be patient and to revel in the little victories.

That lifestyle change lead to one other. Weight Watchers encourages exercise, and one of the things that compelled me to quit smoking was that I wanted to regain some lung function in order to be able to at least walk for fitness. I started the C25K running program a couple of weeks ago. This interval training program is meant to gradually introduce one to running, with the eventual goal being to run a 5K (a little over 3 miles) or half an hour straight. I used to think runners were just complete masochists. Having just completed day 3 of week 2 over the weekend, I still think that. However, I’m also starting to think that I just might be able to be one of those masochists. I am embarrassed at just how out of shape I am. My body is not used to running for even a minute straight—how awful is that?! But, I’m getting stronger and better each day, and that’s what counts.
That’s all I have for now, lovely reader!!! Tell me, what’s new in your world?

I have been reading and keeping up with the blogs in my reader, but haven’t been doing a lot of commenting lately. I’m going to try to get better about that.

Until next time,
Elle

E for Exciting News!

Some cool numbers:

18: The number of days I haven’t had a cigarette—not even a puff. (As of 10 o’clock tonight.)

270: The number of cigarettes I haven’t smoked in those almost 18 days. (GROSS!)

81: Dollars I’ve saved by not purchasing cigarettes.

I’d like to tell you that I feel super amazing and that quitting smoking has changed my life, lovely reader, but so far it really hasn’t. I’ve been incredibly, overwhelmingly, unbelievably exhausted. Like zero energy. Like I’m amazed I even make it to work and make it through the work day.

Combine that with a new semester starting (one in which I’m taking three classes) and the usual busyness of acclimating myself to a new homework and work schedule, and you have a recipe for a very bad blogger. I haven’t started the new year off well at all. I know that. I hope to change that. I appreciate the half dozen of you who remain faithful readers despite my sporadic posting and broken promises.

Now, don’t let that first paragraph up there fool you. I don’t regret the quitting smoking. Not one single bit. I’m glad I’m no longer slowly killing myself with those little death sticks. I just wish that the amazing health benefits you hear about (like a boost in energy) would kick in sooner. I know that my body is detoxing right now—getting rid of all of the garbage and chemicals I’ve abused it with for around 14 years. In addition to that, my brain is working on rewiring itself—getting rid of old habits and associations I no longer need as a nonsmoker. I understand that this is a process.

I’ve quit smoking before. My longest quit was a few years and my shortest was about three months. Each quit attempt has taught me something about myself and quitting smoking. I’ve learned that quitting smoking is only as hard as you make it. This time around, I chose to use the cold turkey method. I decided that if I was going to quit smoking, then I just wanted to be done.

There really was no fanfare, I didn’t have a big plan, and there was no grandiose “final cigarette.” I smoked my last cigarette at 10 pm on January 1, standing in the garage with MusicMan as per usual. After I was finished, I decided I wasn’t going to buy anymore cigarettes. And, with that, I was just done.

Apparently I was more ready to quit than I would’ve thought, because unlike some previous quits, this one hasn’t been so tough. I’ve had my moments, here and there, where I swear the whole world is doing its best to thoroughly piss me off. But, overall, I feel good about this decision. I feel committed to being a nonsmoker.

Of course, it helps that I now seem to be incredibly allergic to cigarette smoke. One little whiff, and I’m in sinus hell. I cannot believe how badly I used to stink when I smoked! I am absolutely positively embarrassed over how awful I used to smell. To think, I actually thought certain people didn’t know that I smoked. Yeah right!! There’s just no hiding it!

I really want this quit to be the one that sticks and I’m feeling way more committed to joining the ranks of nonsmokers than I ever have in the past. That’s part of the reason I’m telling all of you about it. The more people who know, the more I feel I’m being held accountable. That strength and accountability will be helpful in future moments of weakness.

*****************************

In other news, classes are going pretty well. I have two online classes, Philosophy of Religion and Biology of Women, and one traditional class, Human Biology Lab. It looks like I should be able to juggle all three this semester. I am a little worried about the homework load as the pace picks up though. I have a few large papers to write for Philosophy of Religion and the second half of the semester for the Human Biology Lab involves writing up lab reports, so it would appear there is a lot of writing in my future.

I also have to get moving on writing my admissions essay for acceptance into The College of St. Scholastica’s Social Work Program. I received word yesterday that I have officially been accepted as a student at the college, and I’m super thrilled! If all goes according to plan, and my wish comes true and I’m accepted into the social work program, I will start my bachelor’s degree in September! How exciting is that?!

While I’m bragging updating you all on recent events, I also have to mention that I was honored with a very special invitation last week. On Friday, I received an email informing me that I had met all requirements of eligibility to become a member of my college’s chapter of Phi Theta Kappa (PTK) International Honor Society. The email invited me to join my school’s chapter of PTK, which I gladly accepted.

Not only will this incredible honor look good on resumes, but PTK has scholarship programs available to its members. This could be incredibly helpful for me, because I currently am not eligible for financial aid (MusicMan and I allegedly make too much money.), which means I’m financing my education with loans and paying out-of-pocket.

I’m hoping my PTK membership will give me a competitive edge as I apply for acceptance into St. Scholastica’s Social Work Program. It’s a competitive program; only about 25 students are accepted each fall, and I’m hoping to be one of Fall 2011’s 25 students. Wish me luck, lovely reader!!

H for HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

To my lovely, amazing, wonderful readers:

I wish you a very HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Thank you so much for the support, encouragement, laughs, and wisdom you've shared with me over the past year. I never would've imagined when I started this blog how many truly awesome and amazing people I would "meet." I didn't anticipate the many friendships I'd form with people I've never actually met in person. This has been an amazing experience, thanks to you, and I struggle to find the words to adequately express both the appreciation and amazement I feel over the fact that many of you consistently come here to read what I have to say and to share your thoughts with me.

One of my goals for next year is to post at least a few times a week in order to maintain my contact with you all and to further grow the friendships that have formed. Of course, I did get a Kindle for Christmas, and classes start up againg January 10, so there's going to be even more competition for my time; but, blogging is a big priority for me.

I will be working on a post over the weekend to tell you all about the wonderful Christmas MusicMan and I had. I'm also working on a post to share my thoughts on the memorial bonfire we had for my sister. Please come back soon to see those!! For now, I leave you with a recap of 2010:

 January started out bumpy with a trip to the emergency room. Things didn't improve, because a few weeks later, I had car troubles. The end of the month started to show improvement when I bought a new car.

Feburary found me feeling nostalgic, receiving my first blogging awards, and celebrating a couple birthdays.

In March, I tried my hand at being an economist, examined the differences between my younger classmates and I, and was a little overwhelmed with how busy life had gotten.

The overwhelming busyness continued in April. I pondered life and death and was excited to receive more blog awards.

In May I shared some information about my family and the constant frustration they cause. I started my Wayback Wednesday sereis to tell you all about how MusicMan and I met, and I also celebrated my 32nd birthday.

The Summer of Hell started in June. In one of the few blog posts I had time for, I talked about choices people make.

I was quite busy in July, due to the Summer of Hell, and ended up feeling really burnt out.

In August, I shared the story of how MusicMan proposed in anticipation of celebrating our two year wedding anniversary.

I introduced you to mud volleyball in September, and opened my heart to tell you about a day I didn't think I'd ever get through. I rounded out the month by sharing an embarrassing secret.

I suffered from writer's block in October and only posted a quick update and shared my thoughts on the power of words.

In November, I risked alienating some readers by writing about some of my strongly held beliefs.

The power of forgiveness was on my mind in December. We also had an unwelcome visitor to contend with.

It's been an incredibly busy year, lovely reader, but I've also made a lot of progress towards completing my degree. I look forward to chatting with you again in the New Year. Whatever you decide to do to welcome in 2011, I hope you have fun and stay safe!!

R for Raaaaaaaagggggggeeeeeeee

I’m going to warn you right now, lovely reader, this post is anything but fun, humorous, or light-hearted. I am so filled with rage at the moment that I literally cannot focus on anything else. I decided the best thing to do, because I’m stuck at work right now and thus cannot bury my face in a pillow and let out a few hundred primal screams, was to blog it out. Viewer discrtion is advised. This post contains adult language not suitable for children or those with delicate sensibilities.

I have completely and totally run out of patience for my mother. Not just patience, but compassion, respect, and even love are out the window at the moment. I’ve had it!!! I’m so ready to just be done with her, and yet I can’t completely cut ties because I want access to my nephew. My mother is a vindictive bitch, and I truly believe she would withhold my nephew from me should I not keep up the illusion that we are a truly loving mother-daughter pair.

I’ll try to start from the beginning-ish (I don’t have the time to get into the history of me and my mother’s relationship right now, but I will at some point.)...

This is a terrible time of year for my family. If you’re a regular reader, you know why. If you’re new here and don’t know why, I’ll summarize it: my nineteen year old sister was murdered on December 19, 2007. You can read more about that here, if you’re so inclined. I wrote earlier this month about how I refused to let this time of year drag me down anymore. How, instead, I choose to celebrate my sister’s life and celebrate the holidays as she would, were she here with us.

My mother is making it nearly impossible for me to do that. It’s like, because she’s completely miserable this time of year because she chooses to wallow in grief and sadness, the rest of us should be as well. She called me yesterday and said, “I think we should all be together on Sunday (the anniversary of my sister’s death), so everyone is going to come over here.” Well, that’s great, but she doesn’t get to make those decisions for everyone anymore.

I’m a 32 year old married woman with my own family and agenda. I will decide where I need to be and what I need to do. I lost a sister—no, a daughter, because that’s what she basically was to me my whole life, especially after my mom and my stepdad divorced—too, and as such, I (and I alone) get to decide how I’ll spend the anniversary of her death. Besides, we will all be together on Saturday at the memorial bonfire meant to honor her.

Kristine has been gone for three years now. Time has healed the wounds for some of us; it's left behind jagged, ugly scars—sure—but the pain isn’t as raw anymore. While others, like my mother, choose to wallow instead of trying to heal. And that’s just fine, as long as they don’t try to force the rest of us into it. But it’s not her wallowing or insistence on focusing on the loss and death that gets to me so much. That I can get past. People grieve differently, and she has a right to her methods. What I cannot get over is her never-ending need for attention and the fact that she consistently tries to profit from my sister’s death.

That is where I draw the line. Right now, I’m nearly ready to vomit over how disgusted I am with her.

As I’ve mentioned before, my mom and her husband are not in a good place financially. They probably never will be either. Why? Because they make stupid, bad decisions and don’t have their priorities in order. At all.

For example, mom’s husband up and quit his job last spring. Why? Good question, lovely reader! Because he has a bad back and the hard work of sitting on his ass driving a school bus every day was just too much for him. He was off of work for three months, and it was only when the threats of eviction started that he realized he probably needed to get out and get a job. My mom’s meager school bus driver salary couldn’t support a family of four all on its own. Of course that put them even more behind than they already were, so now they’re playing a constant game of catch-up.

The new job that mom’s husband got doesn’t pay nearly as well as his old job. And, due to my mom’s illness, is the only income they have at this point. There is no doubt that they’re struggling. They depend on the food shelf, barely get by paycheck to paycheck, and are behind on all of their bills.

Musicman and I have offered to take custody of my nephew since the day after my sister’s death. And I consistently remind mom and her husband of our willingness to do so. Not just to remove some of their financial burden, but also to allow my mom to just be a grandma again. And, of course, to make sure that my nephew’s needs are consistently met and that he grows up in a home that’s loving, nurturing, and supportive.

A memorial fund was setup, a few days after my sister died, to help the family with funeral costs. I don’t know where that money ended up, but it’s gone now and my sister’s funeral was never paid off. Nor will it ever be now that mom and her husband declared bankruptcy. A few months later, there was a benefit for the family, because new financial concerns came about after my grandmother passed away and mom’s husband’s son had medical issues. Of course, at that time, people were reminded that this family had tragically lost a daughter to a senseless act of violence. (Gotta tug at the heartstrings; it gets people to open their pockets and wallets a little wider.) Thus began mom and her husband's addiction to public support and attention.

Musicman and I have helped them out faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar more than we should have. This year alone, we’ve given them well over $1,000 in financial assistance; to save them from eviction, to put food on the table, and to help out with my nephew. Or so I’m lead to believe. Until I read Facebook and find out that they had their internet turned back on (not a necessity), they’re eating takeout, and my mom’s husband is out standing in line (with his bad back) for the midnight release of a $60 video games. But, whatever. Shame on me for giving them the money and expecting them to honestly use it for what they said they needed.

We’ve given them money to help my nephew more than anything, because our offer to take custody of him also came with the offer to help when needed, and they’ve caught onto that and have started to use him as a pawn to try to get more out of us. When we found out that, due to my mom’s recent illness and lack of paycheck, they weren’t going to be able to buy even a single gift for my nephew for Christmas, Musicman and I offered to buy gifts on their behalf. Despite the fact that we’re already out over $1,000, we refuse to let my almost five-year-old nephew go without Christmas.

We decided we’d purchase one “big ticket” item (around $50) from them and a few smaller gifts and some clothes from Santa. I figured my mother would see this as our Christmas gift to her and her husband (even thought adults in my family don’t exchange gifts) and that we’d give them the gifts at the bonfire this weekend so that they can have them all wrapped up and under the tree—ready for Li’l D on Christmas morning. Of course, we will also purchase additional gifts for him from Auntie Elle and Uncle Musicman too.

Yet what do I see on Facebook yesterday? A second fundraiser has been setup for them. One fundraiser was setup weeks ago, but apparently that one hasn’t garnered enough interest or attention, so a second one was started. Of course my mother insists that she and her husband had nothing to do with this and that their friends and neighbors want so badly to help them out. Yet she’s the one spamming everyone’s walls with the link to the fundraiser.

This recent fundraiser says that the family tragically lost their daughter three years ago to a senseless act of violence, and since that time have cared for her son. That’s pretty much the only part that’s true. The description goes on to say that the family faces financial hardship because mom’s husband was forced to temporarily quit working due to a back injury and that they’ve been struggling financially since their resources were used up in their quest to make sure that the murderer was convicted. Oh, and that because of this financial hardship, they will not be able to provide a Christmas for my nephew.

*Queue eyeballs popping out and head exploding here* What. The. FUCK?!?!? First of all, mom’s husband was never forced to quit working. As I stated above, he chose to quit his job. Because that’s what you do when life gets hard, right?! You just quit and later on depend on other people to finance your life. And it wasn’t because of an injury he had recently sustained—it’s an old injury that, to my knowledge, he’s never really sought treatment for, choosing instead to complain and whine about it. If there's one thing he and  my mom excel at, it's playing the martyr.

Secondly, NONE of their money was used to convict my sister’s murderer. The state prosecuted him. The only out-of-pocket expense any of us had was getting time off of work (some of us unpaid) and paying for transportation and/or parking to attend his trial, and numerous pre-trial hearings, which of course wasn’t required of us. But, we all attended every day; each for our own individual reasons, but also for one we all had in common: to see justice served.

The part that really gets me though is where the fundraiser's description says my nephew isn’t going to have a Christmas. REALLY?!?! Why are my husband and I busting our asses, while watching our bank accounts dwindle, to purchase gifts for my nephew on behalf of my mother, her husband, and Santa?!! It’s like a slap in the face! No…A kick in the gut.

The slap in the face came after our generous offer when my mother texted me to see if we could bring nephew out shopping to buy gifts for her and her husband, because Lil’D has really been talking a lot about buying Christmas gifts for nana and pop-pop. Apparently our gift to them wasn't enough. No; I’m not joking. Within 24 hours of us offering to basically finance Christmas for them (not including all the food I’ll be preparing and bringing…just talking gifts here), she texts to see if we’ll also buy gifts for her and her husband on nephew’s behalf. SERIOUSLY?!?! Who does that?!? Selfish much?!?

I haven’t received a Christmas present in I don’t know how many years. Musicman and I agreed long ago not to do gifts (we go all out for each other’s birthdays instead), and no one in my family can afford to do an adult gift exchange, so no Christmas gifts for me. It goes without saying that, since most of the adults can’t afford a gift exchange, we also do not get auntie and uncle gifts from our nephews and niece. And that’s okay. Christmas shouldn't be all about presents. I think the focus of the holiday should be on the kids, and I pay out quite a bit of money each year buying my nephews and niece what I hope are the perfect gifts.

Needless to say, I told my mom I wouldn’t have the time or the money to take my nephew shopping and sent an email to my sister asking her to step up (for a change). I wrote to my sis that, if she was having her kids make gifts for grandma for Christmas, it would be nice if she could include our nephew in that. She responded that she was going to take all of the kids (her two and Li'l D) to see Santa and to shop for gifts for mom and her husband from the kids. Great. Finally a break for me. My mom’s response to me saying no to her request? “No worries. You’ve done enough already.”

Really?!?! You fucking think so?!?! I’d say mooooooooooooore than enough. Waaaaaaaay more than enough! And, apparently, it’s still not good enough, because now there is a fundraiser that outright lies to people in order to get them to finance your life. The pathetic thing is people fall for their sob story. Their chronic bad luck is just unimaginable and so undeserved. How could such a caring, kind, hard-working family deserve to endure so much hardship?

The sad thing is, no matter what, it’s never going to be enough. Nothing is. Because my mom and her husband apparently think that the world should pity them for the rest of their lives, and as such, should pay to support them. It won’t be good enough until they are millionaires, because neither of them should actually have to work for a living.

And, as though I don’t have enough to be upset and angry about already, I get an email this morning from my mother indicating that she had forwarded details of the bonfire to the news media. One local station responded that they will pitch this as a story idea for their Saturday evening news program. WHY?!? Why would she do that?! Because my mother needs attention. She is addicted to drama and attention. I seriously think she went off the deep end long, long ago.

God forbid the memorial bonfire be a private event for friends and family to remember and honor my sister. Nope. That’s not good enough for mom. She needs attention on her.

I’m telling you right now, if the news media shows up on Saturday, I’m leaving. Enough of  my private, personal thoughts, feelings, and emotions were on display for the public three years ago; when I was in too much shock, and my emtions too raw, to know that I could've (and should've) said no to the interviews and the prying. I will not stand there and watch my mother’s disgusting attempts to garner sympathy and pity by telling the world about how not only does she continue to struggle with recovering from the tragic loss of her daughter and the burden she carries raising her grandson, but also her bad luck never seems to change. Now she’s terribly ill and once again faced with struggles that no one should have to deal with. Poor her. Poor, poor her.

I’ve had it. I’m pissed off. I’m beyond pissed off. I’m so livid right now that I’m almost turning myself inside out with rage. I don’t want my nephew being raised to think that this is how life works; that because his mom was murdered, he’s entitled to do what he pleases and not worry about the consequences because the world owes him everything. That’s bullshit! I also don’t want it constantly thrown in his face that his mom was murdered and that he should be perpetually sad about that. Of course, he is probably the biggest victim in this awful, terrible, horrible tragedy, but that should not define him. He doesn't need to live his life as a victim; not when he can live as an inspiration, a survivor!

I honestly don’t know how my mom lives with herself. How do you sleep at night knowing that you’re lying to conning people to try to profit from your daughter’s death?!? I wonder how much time she spends each day anticipating what the award she deserves for stepping up and taking care of her grandson will look like, and the monetary value that will be attached to it, of course. Because, apparently, she deserves big things.

When, really, she let her daughter die. She sent my sister to the murderer’s house that day. Alone. Because she insisted that her grandson should see his father. Despite the fact that she, unlike many of the rest of us, knew that the murderer had been violent towards my sister in the past, she sent her daughter to the lion’s den. Of course, she will admit that to no one.

Instead, she gets to look like the poor, grieving mother whose heart was ripped out the day her daughter—her baby—was murdered. And, while there’s no doubt that’s tragic—trust me, I get that; I live through the loss of my sister every single day—the true tragedy lies in the fact that she chooses to capitalize on her daughter’s death instead of celebrating her daughter’s life and focusing on the wonderful little piece of her that's been left behind and helping him to grow into a better man than his daddy ever was (instead of using him as a pawn).