I want to share a story. A few weeks ago I joined a local freecycle type group on Facebook. That's where we got a big bottle of sugar free chocolate syrup the Sunday before last, and I've also found new homes for some pots and pans and a half bottle of banana liqueur I am not fond of. But today something extraordinary happened.
For the last week I have been posting all over the place asking pretty much anyone who might have even the slightest connection with us if anyone would be interested in being tested as a potential kidney donor for Jeremy. I'd gotten a few volunteers so far, more than I really expected, and that in and of itself made me optimistic.
They told us, at the transplant center, to ask everyone, because you never know who will step forward if asked, and that has already been proving to be true. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened today. I sent a PM to the mod of the freecycle type group to ask if it would be within the rules of the group to post a request for possible kidney donors. She told me to go for it. So I did.
Within minutes of making that post I had a PM from someone who wanted a copy of the donor packet. It is now 10pm, and at last count I have had 13 people ask me for it. I do not know these people. They are all strangers to us. The only connection I have with any of them is that we belong to the same community group on Facebook. But each of them cares enough about the life of a total stranger that they are seriously willing to give up a vital organ of their own for him.
When I made that post I expected maybe one person to respond, if I was lucky. I was and still am completely overwhelmed by the response I got. On top of that a good family friend from my childhood started a GoFundMe to help us with expenses today, and she is also willing to get tested as a potential donor even though she's never met my husband. And in addition to people contacting me about being a potential donor, I've also been getting a lot of messages of general support, prayers, and positive thoughts, which are so very meaningful to me.
I wish I had something profound to say to end this, but I don't. I'm a fairly optimistic person anyway, but this experience has shocked me to my core.
Showing posts with label off topic diatribes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label off topic diatribes. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Back home
Lately I have been going through some personal struggles. At times life can seem unbearably painful, and unbelievably cruel. This morning I found myself wishing that I was a stronger person and feeling like I am too much of an emotional burden to others. And then I realized:
If you take a deck of cards, and you take one card out of the deck and try to stand it up on end, it won't work. With nothing to support it, the card will fall over, no matter how straight it is standing. But if you lean the card at an angle, and you support it with a second card, also placed at an angle, the two cards will hold each other up. And the more cards you add to the structure, the stronger it becomes.
I guess people are like that too. No one person is as strong by his or her self as they would be being supported by, and giving support back, to others.
Anyway, enough with the deep thoughts for now.
On Saturday we took the written exam, which I got back on Sunday and passed! Sunday morning we did the practical portion. We will find out weighing the next week if we did not pass, but I felt good about it.
Saturday night I stopped at Menchie's on my way back to home base. Everything else I ate that day was things I had purchased at Target to keep in my room, or snacks provided by the class. Sunday, I felt a little celebration was in order and I went to Chili's after class was over. We do not have a Chili's location in Washington state, other that the little one in the airport with a limited menu and hours. So I'm probably a little more enamoured with Chili's than is reasonable or advisable. I have not been to a full size Chili's since 2008. I got a couple of margaritas, a couple glasses of wine, a big plate of my favorite assorted apps, and a molten chocolate lava cake. It was exactly what I wanted and needed at that moment.
Monday, I wasn't feeling too hot, as I expected I might not. I am not, these days, much of a drinker at all, so even the 3.4 beverages I had was honestly way too much. And I guess at my age I'm just not able to recover like I used to. I took a Lyft car to La Mesa to visit a very dear friend I have known almost 20 years now, and we went out to breakfast. It was a welcome distraction from the moderate nausea, and was the perfect end to a good trip.
I flew back to Seattle yesterday evening, and thankfully the nausea didn't get any worse. Jeremy met me at the airport, and it felt so good to be back with him. He's the card that is standing opposite of me, and we are holding each other up.
If you take a deck of cards, and you take one card out of the deck and try to stand it up on end, it won't work. With nothing to support it, the card will fall over, no matter how straight it is standing. But if you lean the card at an angle, and you support it with a second card, also placed at an angle, the two cards will hold each other up. And the more cards you add to the structure, the stronger it becomes.
I guess people are like that too. No one person is as strong by his or her self as they would be being supported by, and giving support back, to others.
Anyway, enough with the deep thoughts for now.
On Saturday we took the written exam, which I got back on Sunday and passed! Sunday morning we did the practical portion. We will find out weighing the next week if we did not pass, but I felt good about it.
Saturday night I stopped at Menchie's on my way back to home base. Everything else I ate that day was things I had purchased at Target to keep in my room, or snacks provided by the class. Sunday, I felt a little celebration was in order and I went to Chili's after class was over. We do not have a Chili's location in Washington state, other that the little one in the airport with a limited menu and hours. So I'm probably a little more enamoured with Chili's than is reasonable or advisable. I have not been to a full size Chili's since 2008. I got a couple of margaritas, a couple glasses of wine, a big plate of my favorite assorted apps, and a molten chocolate lava cake. It was exactly what I wanted and needed at that moment.
Monday, I wasn't feeling too hot, as I expected I might not. I am not, these days, much of a drinker at all, so even the 3.4 beverages I had was honestly way too much. And I guess at my age I'm just not able to recover like I used to. I took a Lyft car to La Mesa to visit a very dear friend I have known almost 20 years now, and we went out to breakfast. It was a welcome distraction from the moderate nausea, and was the perfect end to a good trip.
I flew back to Seattle yesterday evening, and thankfully the nausea didn't get any worse. Jeremy met me at the airport, and it felt so good to be back with him. He's the card that is standing opposite of me, and we are holding each other up.
Friday, September 5, 2014
My thoughts on the SNAP challenge
September is the month that many people do the SNAP challenge. For the SNAP challenge you must spend no more than $4.50 per person per day on food, which is the average amount a family recieves on SNAP (formerly known as Food Stamps). Many people blog about their experiences doing the SNAP challenge, or write articles about it.
Ten years ago, back when they were still called Food Stamps, my family of three was living on $150 a month for food. If you have any income at all, no matter how little it is, the expectation is that you will be spending some of that income on food, and the food stamps supplement the rest. The reality is much much different from these expectations.
At the time we were getting $150 a month in food stamps, my husband at the time was working full time for minimum wage, while I attended beauty school full time. Winter was 4. Minimum wage in the state we lived in was the same as the federal minimum wage of $5.65 an hour. Our rent was $525 a month. We also paid for a landline phone and electric. We had no car. After paying for housing and utilities we were left with less than $200 a month, and we still had to manage bus fare, $50 a month for day care (the state paid for the other $250 it would have normally cost), clothing, toiletries and paper goods, health care items, and everything else. The reality was simply that there was no extra money for food above and beyond the $150 we recieved in food stamps. We had to make do.
We made it work, because we had to, but it wasn't easy. I clipped coupons and paired them up with sales, walking miles to four different stores so I didn't have to spend money on bus fare. We were lucky to live in a suburban area with a nice, cheap indoor farmer's market close by. That helped. In that way we had many options that people in more urban areas do not. We ate a lot of pasta. A lot of potatoes. A lot of pancakes. A lot of beans. Pretty much no meat. We did eat some fruits and vegetables, but since they didn't provide as many calories per dollar as starchier foods, we had to limit them.
We had few small appliances, and minimal cookware of very low quality. No crock pot. No rice cooker. Now that I have those things I realize how much more you can make from scratch, and how much easier it is when you have a good selection of good quality tools to use. We had to buy everything in the smallest sized packages we could, even though the cost per pound is much higher this way, because our budget was simply too tight to allow any wiggle room for buying larger quantities of things. Spending extra to stock up on something would mean not having enough to get the other things we needed for the rest of the month.
We were also lucky that we didn't live this way for too long. I only had a couple months of school left when we applied for food assistance. My now ex husband found a better job, and I finished school and started working. We were still poor, but not three people trying to make it on one minimum wage job. Some people, whether due to family size, disability, lower cognitive function, or some other barrier that cannot be changed, do not have a choice. Some people do not have a realistic way out.
Ten years ago, back when they were still called Food Stamps, my family of three was living on $150 a month for food. If you have any income at all, no matter how little it is, the expectation is that you will be spending some of that income on food, and the food stamps supplement the rest. The reality is much much different from these expectations.
At the time we were getting $150 a month in food stamps, my husband at the time was working full time for minimum wage, while I attended beauty school full time. Winter was 4. Minimum wage in the state we lived in was the same as the federal minimum wage of $5.65 an hour. Our rent was $525 a month. We also paid for a landline phone and electric. We had no car. After paying for housing and utilities we were left with less than $200 a month, and we still had to manage bus fare, $50 a month for day care (the state paid for the other $250 it would have normally cost), clothing, toiletries and paper goods, health care items, and everything else. The reality was simply that there was no extra money for food above and beyond the $150 we recieved in food stamps. We had to make do.
We made it work, because we had to, but it wasn't easy. I clipped coupons and paired them up with sales, walking miles to four different stores so I didn't have to spend money on bus fare. We were lucky to live in a suburban area with a nice, cheap indoor farmer's market close by. That helped. In that way we had many options that people in more urban areas do not. We ate a lot of pasta. A lot of potatoes. A lot of pancakes. A lot of beans. Pretty much no meat. We did eat some fruits and vegetables, but since they didn't provide as many calories per dollar as starchier foods, we had to limit them.
We had few small appliances, and minimal cookware of very low quality. No crock pot. No rice cooker. Now that I have those things I realize how much more you can make from scratch, and how much easier it is when you have a good selection of good quality tools to use. We had to buy everything in the smallest sized packages we could, even though the cost per pound is much higher this way, because our budget was simply too tight to allow any wiggle room for buying larger quantities of things. Spending extra to stock up on something would mean not having enough to get the other things we needed for the rest of the month.
We were also lucky that we didn't live this way for too long. I only had a couple months of school left when we applied for food assistance. My now ex husband found a better job, and I finished school and started working. We were still poor, but not three people trying to make it on one minimum wage job. Some people, whether due to family size, disability, lower cognitive function, or some other barrier that cannot be changed, do not have a choice. Some people do not have a realistic way out.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Wherein I speak candidly on the subject of online sexual harrassment
I am going to go very off topic for this post. I just have some things I need to get off my chest. I have been following this story the last few days about the comment trolling on Jezebel. I have been reading quite a few articles about just how prolific internet sexual harrassment of women is. And I have a lot of thoughts about this.
When I was little I often heard the saying repeated that "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me." Quite honestly I think this saying is a steaming pile of crap and the world would be a better place if it were never repeated again. Words can be profoundly damaging. Especially when faced with a constant barrage of verbal abuse on a regular basis. And we now know that women more than men are overwhelmingly targeted with things like threats of physical and sexual violence, and sexually predatory communications from other internet users.
One solution I have seen put out there is to ignore it. Don't let it affect you. Don't react. Allow me to explain why we can't:
As soon as you have read the comment, or viewed the image, whichever the case may be, it has already begun to do damage. You can't unsee it. That was the intention behind the comment being made in the first place. It is my belief that some people, mostly men, post rape threats and stalkerish comments online for the same reason that some men rape and sexually assault women. As a means of control. They seek to control us with fear and shame. And in the majority of cases the men who hide behind a screen while doing this will never face any sort of consequences for their actions. So they have no reason to stop.
And as easy as it may seem to dismiss anonymous online rape threats as carrying no real weight, with very low likelihood of any kind of follow through, that just ignores the fact that the women they are targeting have already been assaulted. Whether or not these women are ever actually physically harmed by those who are posting creepy tweets, or rapey comments ultimately doesn't matter. The online attacks are harmful in and of themselves.
Because sexual assault isn't some sort of amorphous, and indistinct concept. A massive percentage of women have already experienced it. Those that haven't experienced it first hand probably know someone who has, or several someones who have. And 100% of women know what it means to have immediate fear for their safety. Living in a heightened state of fear for an extended period of time has demonstrable harmful effects on the human body.
I have heard that one in three women will be a victim of sexual assault in her lifetime. Honestly, I think that statistic is way too low, for a variety of reasons. But I would like to go on record as saying that I am included in these ranks. I was raped by an acquaintance. I said no. Multiple times. I pushed him off of me over and over again until I didn't have the strength to keep fighting back. He ignored my requests for him to stop. He physically overpowered me. After he was finished, he stood up without a word and walked out of my apartment. I never heard from him again.
I did not report it. I told myself it was a misunderstanding, and he thought somehow, some way, that that was what I wanted. I told myself that he just did it because he was lonely, that he wasn't really a rapist, and he wouldn't ever do that to anyone else. I erased all traces of him from my phone and my computer. And I forgot his name, almost consciously. I don't remember it to this day. By the time I allowed myself to admit what really happened, I had wiped away every last bit of tangible evidence, and scrubbed my memory of nearly every detail. But the damage was only getting started.
Even now I am terrified to write this. I am terrified to publish this. I am terrified of people who I know, people who I work with, people in my family, reading this and seeing me differently. And even though I am a nobody blogger, with very few readers, and basically no visibility, I am afraid of who or what is lurking out there. Even reading about other women getting threatened with rape is pretty damn triggering. I realize that by putting this out there I am taking a risk, even if it is a pretty small one. I realize I am inviting criticism. It scares me. A lot.
But if shame is one of the methods of control that some men use on women, then the only way to fight back is to no longer allow ourselves to be shamed into silence. As long as we keep our mouths shut, and as long as we behave as though we are the ones who did something wrong, the control by shame and fear will continue. It's time to fight back.
When I was little I often heard the saying repeated that "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me." Quite honestly I think this saying is a steaming pile of crap and the world would be a better place if it were never repeated again. Words can be profoundly damaging. Especially when faced with a constant barrage of verbal abuse on a regular basis. And we now know that women more than men are overwhelmingly targeted with things like threats of physical and sexual violence, and sexually predatory communications from other internet users.
One solution I have seen put out there is to ignore it. Don't let it affect you. Don't react. Allow me to explain why we can't:
As soon as you have read the comment, or viewed the image, whichever the case may be, it has already begun to do damage. You can't unsee it. That was the intention behind the comment being made in the first place. It is my belief that some people, mostly men, post rape threats and stalkerish comments online for the same reason that some men rape and sexually assault women. As a means of control. They seek to control us with fear and shame. And in the majority of cases the men who hide behind a screen while doing this will never face any sort of consequences for their actions. So they have no reason to stop.
And as easy as it may seem to dismiss anonymous online rape threats as carrying no real weight, with very low likelihood of any kind of follow through, that just ignores the fact that the women they are targeting have already been assaulted. Whether or not these women are ever actually physically harmed by those who are posting creepy tweets, or rapey comments ultimately doesn't matter. The online attacks are harmful in and of themselves.
Because sexual assault isn't some sort of amorphous, and indistinct concept. A massive percentage of women have already experienced it. Those that haven't experienced it first hand probably know someone who has, or several someones who have. And 100% of women know what it means to have immediate fear for their safety. Living in a heightened state of fear for an extended period of time has demonstrable harmful effects on the human body.
I have heard that one in three women will be a victim of sexual assault in her lifetime. Honestly, I think that statistic is way too low, for a variety of reasons. But I would like to go on record as saying that I am included in these ranks. I was raped by an acquaintance. I said no. Multiple times. I pushed him off of me over and over again until I didn't have the strength to keep fighting back. He ignored my requests for him to stop. He physically overpowered me. After he was finished, he stood up without a word and walked out of my apartment. I never heard from him again.
I did not report it. I told myself it was a misunderstanding, and he thought somehow, some way, that that was what I wanted. I told myself that he just did it because he was lonely, that he wasn't really a rapist, and he wouldn't ever do that to anyone else. I erased all traces of him from my phone and my computer. And I forgot his name, almost consciously. I don't remember it to this day. By the time I allowed myself to admit what really happened, I had wiped away every last bit of tangible evidence, and scrubbed my memory of nearly every detail. But the damage was only getting started.
Even now I am terrified to write this. I am terrified to publish this. I am terrified of people who I know, people who I work with, people in my family, reading this and seeing me differently. And even though I am a nobody blogger, with very few readers, and basically no visibility, I am afraid of who or what is lurking out there. Even reading about other women getting threatened with rape is pretty damn triggering. I realize that by putting this out there I am taking a risk, even if it is a pretty small one. I realize I am inviting criticism. It scares me. A lot.
But if shame is one of the methods of control that some men use on women, then the only way to fight back is to no longer allow ourselves to be shamed into silence. As long as we keep our mouths shut, and as long as we behave as though we are the ones who did something wrong, the control by shame and fear will continue. It's time to fight back.
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