When I was in my twenties there was no way a person would have been able to convince me I was in an abusive relationship. I was tough and had learned to fight back. So, there was no reason to believe I was putting up with anything bad being done to me. However, I did not know how to identify all bad behavior. I grew up being convinced by my mother that "that is the way men are!", get used to it. In my experience it was true. Like-minded people tend to associate and interbreed. All the men in my family were the same as my father's friends and their families. All the women were just like my mother, her family, her friends and their families. I thus drew to myself and let in only people like them. Any others were considered weak, too soft, naive, something too pure or innocent for me. The one time I experienced any different than my 'norm' was at a school friend's house. The house was well-kept, mom was baking after school cookies, dad came in warmly greeting the mother. I had a panick attack and wanted to flee. Something in me screamed it was all an evil lie, a taunting. It could not be real. It was not normal. Sure saw it on tv and some people acted like that in public but everyone knows you can't believe everything you see on TV and public behavior never reflected (in my experience) what went on behind closed doors.
When I was a teen and had gotten very drunk for the first time, I gave the keys to my mom's truck to a family friend whom my mother trusted. He arranged for his cousin to give me a ride home. Feeling I had fulfilled my responsibilities about the truck and was safely moments from bed, I allowed myself to pass out. I came to lying on the ground in the woods off a dirt road. The cousin was getting up from on top of me, zipping up his jeans. I was angry so I kicked in his windshield with my bare feet. He left me there to find my own way home. A few days later he threatened to call the cops about the windshield and I replied that I would just tell them how he had raped me. He walked away with his girlfriend hanging off his arm and I went on with my day. No big deal. Just another normal type event in my normal experience of life. Men are always trying to "cop a feel", right? Did I not awaken from sleep with my father's hand under my nightgown.... under my sheets.... muttering something about him worried because I must have been having a bad dream? When I told my mom of the uncomfortable touching, did she not simply use the information to blackmail my dad out of everything she wanted in the divorce....... then repeatedly return to him for playdates in the shower when they thought we were sleeping? My husband with a knife to my throat? No big thing. Just another day of living. Just like when another boyfriend held a boxcutter to my stomach while he had me pinned to the ground. That last guy? No way, he never even hit me. What are you talking about abusive?! So, he got mad when I told him not to slap my daughter's butt playfully. My dissatisfaction means there is something wrong with me! He is an accountant and well respected in the community. It's just me. Ask my mother, she'll tell you........ she'll tell anybody and does anyways, usually.
It was when I was in my thirties and had left the Jehovah's Witnesses (I had joined them in search of God and 'real family') that I began reading books on cults and cult recovery as well as "The Science of the Meme". I learned a "cult" could be as small as a one-to-one relationship with the abuser being "the charismatic leader". I began to see how my relationships were abusive. I learned how to protect my children from becoming victims with small things like defending their right to choose not to show affection or not allowing others subject them to emotional blackmail. I vowed the familial cycle of abuse would end with me and my children. I wasn't out to change anyone else, I was just out to change my children's experiences. The reactions were explosive. I didn't understand the reactions, didn't they see I was simply holding to my children's right to respect? Wouldn't they want the same thing? Wasn't I otherwise constantly criticized for not doing what was right?..... Nor did I understand that a war of consciousiousness had just been created. It was suddenly me, alone, against ALL of them; family, boyfriend, and friends.
I have lost 4 children and two grandchildren in this war of "let it begin with me". In abusive environments, children feel insecure, unstable, and so they seek to emulate the one in control: the abuser. No matter how peaceful and respectful I was, the children always emulated them. And so my oldest daughter is abusive to men, her son and tries to be very controlling of me. I asked her to leave recently because of it. I have not heard from her since. My second-born I am not allowed to see, any attempts at contact are always ignored despite my legal rights. My third-born was allowed to see me, however she decided she no longer wanted to because I refused to be used by her to rebel against her father inappropriately. He supports her in this and does not respond to any attempts I make for contact. (Though he thought nothing of showing up on my doorstep unnanounced any time HE wanted before that). My fourth-born was actually moved, divorce papers intentionally served at wrong address, announcement placed in out-of-state paper, and custody granted to him without my knowing or being given a chance to respond. I finally located their new address after 4 years of looking, but like the others, all contact goes unacknowledged despite my legal right for visitation. They were, and still are, definately abusive and controlling. They continue unchallenged by our community, our families. They are even supported in their behaviors by the legal system. The advice I get from law enforcement, free legal aid and DV advocates: don't bring up what what they did or are doing wrong in court, simply ask for a change in visitation. How would a change be honored any more than what is ordered now?
My mother would still disagree with me about attempting to get more involved in my daughter's lives. She tells me it is best to leave them alone because those men are doing such a great job with those girls and I should be happy with what I have. The only reason, I believe, she is not yet in cohoots with my two youngest's father to take them from me is because I have a restraining order against him. I am leary about what she will do when that expires. When I began to tell her what he put me through, she told me she could not really deal with hearing it. But, she is presently entertaining herself with my nephews' fathers, pitting them against my sister. My mother succeeded in helping get one of my nephews taken by his father already. She has one more nephew to go!
It's been over ten years since I made that fateful vow. Breaking the cycle of victimhood and abuse within one's self is not an over-night recovery. It takes us weeding out the big things and discovering many more smaller "memes", and then even more smaller than those. It's layers upon layers that had been layed as our inner foundation our entire youth and possibly beyond, reinforced by assossiation and, in many ways, society. Such little things, like the neighbor who playfully pokes you from behind despite no former significant interacting. Isn't that just playful flirtting? Even his wife would agree. It's what everyone says makes him such a nice guy, he is friendly. I have to snap myself out of it: what, in fact, is he doing? Displaying innapropriate familiarity, using the element of surprise to position himself in control, and deceitfully using "just being nice/friendly" to get attention he is innapropriately craving. And what is my weakness in this? Receipt of flattery. The need for a man's approval which is the driving force of my mother's life and the formula I was nursed on my entire life before this. Exactly what I never wanted to be after witnessing it's destruction while growing up. But if I were to point out such dysfunctions in my neighborhood, it would be met with angry resistence.
There are other challenges as well: dipping our toes in the pools of association with people whose relationships are respectful. Will they view me as sick and reject me? Am I good enough for them/deserving? What if I make a mistake and act innapropriately, will I drive them away from me? It's so scary, it is often times easier to return to abusers where everything is familiar and you know the rules. In a way feeling safer and more free, in control of things. In a way, you are absolved from all responsibility and feel relieved. The control freak wants all control anyways, right? So why put my self in a position where I have to make all the decisions, am overwhelmed by a sudden responsibility for everything when I could not have any at all before this? Scary for others to know that is how we think when we are on the brink of recovery, no doubt. But it is not just a lazy, fearful way of thinking. It is a true belief adopted from years of being ingrained with "you can't do anything right", "you are stupid, incapable,, going to be a loser all your life", etc.
Then there are the aspects we might not want to admit, such as: how am I abusive? We may have developed a method of self-defense that includes emotional retaliation, manipulation, etc. Do we unconsciously resort to them before abuse even starts...... just to avoid it, even if we do not know for certain it is coming from someone we just met? Do we misinterpret intentions, our own children, take their behavior personally when we shouldn't, or let them walk all over us for fear of losing them or being abusive to them ourselves? Do we yell when we think we are just talking because that is the level of speaking to we are accustomed to? Do we fail to respect healthy boundaries of others out of habit? Do we invite others to cross those we should practice for ourselves as well as a loving service to those we want to interact with? Then there is sarcasm, "pie in the face" playfulness, wrestling, joking at someone's expense, etc......the things polite society might call "in poor taste".
We are forging new pathways in our brains. It is a physical endeavor in that way. Like exercising muscles to get in shape, it takes exercising new ways of thinking. It takes practice. But when that day comes, towards the end of this process, when you can stand before your 'mother' and/or abusers With all your dignity in tact, no matter what your life circumstances look like on the outside, not a shred or shadow of self-doubt within you..... Then you know your new foundation has been laid and is being cemented in. You know that with faith in God's help, responsibility will be returned to you at a pace you can handle gracefully. He has given you victory in the war of "let it begin with me". You know you will never be able to do any convincing, but you can be a quiet light in the center of the swirling storms of conflict around you. Then maybe, just maybe, someone will begin to convince themselves and come looking for or be led to you to support their new decisions. There is always the hope that what was lost might return as one of those making for themselves those new decisions. But in the least, you have inner peace, the greatest achievement anyone can achieve. I am convinced. It ended with me.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
A dream come true....for a moment
I always wanted to have a big house that would serve as a sort of retreat from life's hard-knock lessons for my family; children and grandchildren. I started to envision it when I was in my twenties, which is young for one to begin dreaming of being that all-accepting grandmother. But it came from a yearning of my own to have a place I could always call home to go to when things got rough and I needed a time out to regather and lean on a supportive shoulder. A place without lectures about responsibilities, what I should be doing, what I shouldn't have done, conditions placed upon me being there, and pressure to lead a life that was not fulfilling, etc. Lacking such a place in my own life, I strongly desired to create such a place, where my family would always feel welcome, know they'd have a roof over their head and food to eat, without question.
Last summer I got to spend time with my grandson. One day he wanted to come here instead of go elsewhere. His mother asked him why. He replied; "because it's peaceful". This from a 6yr old who had to tough it out while here with an aunt and uncle younger than him, lol. But there it was: for a brief moment this past summer, even if he called me by my first name, my dinky little apartment was "Grandma's House". I am capable of creating exactly the atmosphere I wanted to create, I just did not know it yet.
While it will still probably be a long period of time before the rest of my descendents are given an opportunity to appreciate the atmosphere of my home, I cherish this memory while I create the venue in which anyone in my community who can appreciate it and wants to take advantage of it, can.
Last summer I got to spend time with my grandson. One day he wanted to come here instead of go elsewhere. His mother asked him why. He replied; "because it's peaceful". This from a 6yr old who had to tough it out while here with an aunt and uncle younger than him, lol. But there it was: for a brief moment this past summer, even if he called me by my first name, my dinky little apartment was "Grandma's House". I am capable of creating exactly the atmosphere I wanted to create, I just did not know it yet.
While it will still probably be a long period of time before the rest of my descendents are given an opportunity to appreciate the atmosphere of my home, I cherish this memory while I create the venue in which anyone in my community who can appreciate it and wants to take advantage of it, can.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Not your circus freak
The following is a piece I submitted and my publisher/editor loved. I copy it here because it describes some experiences I had which inspired me to persue social service, be a voice for those in need and make sure they would be treated with respect as far as it concerned me. It is why I really don't want anyone who hasn't experienced extreme poverty or is prejudiced against it to be a part of Detroit Village Neighborly. God's Magenta Flame is the pen name I use when writing for the paper because when I started writing for that paper, I was on the street with my children. I wanted to protect our identities as much as possible and protect us from any backlash writing of my experiences might bring. Turns out a few followed the paper just to follow my writings, so I kept the pen name for writing for it. I feel just as protective of those in my community who are in need, I am discovering about myself. They will definately have an advocate in me.
Not Your Circus Freak
By God's Magenta Flame
When someone has a knife to your throat, you do what you need to do and say what you need to say to get away. You tell the one with the knife what they want to hear to keep yourself safe until you can get free. Life on the streets is alot like that. It is probably even more like that when you are a woman with children because it's not only a figurative knife at your throat, but the throats of your children. One bad decision can get you robbed, beaten, kidnapped or raped. You find yourself talking down strangers who presumptuously pick up your children in the most quiet and peaceful way possible. Then are criticized by self-righteous observers for being irresponsible for not making a big enough fuss and yanking your children away in a big scene. The last thing I needed was to anger and make an active enemy of someone who is not psychologically stable due to mental illness or drug addiction. So, a polite, good-humored manner was indeed the most responsible way for me, as a mother, to handle people picking up my children while availing ourselves of daytime services at the local shelter in Davis. It led to a private talking to from the employees there who questioned my judgement in "allowing" others to pick up my children.
I quietly observed daily the "banter" between shelter employees and those they were supposed to be serving. The shelter employees' "playful" tones were downgrading and ridiculing but some of these men actually lit up as if they were being treated as special. One man thought he was "in good" with the employees. he had once told me to let him handle them for me. He didn't hear how they spoke of him behind his back when he left. They are quite adept at eye-rolling. I definately got the impression that those employees showed up to work each day for the same reasons people pay to see circus "freaks". The homeless were their entertainment. I definately never once left there feeling as if I had been treated with common respect and human dignity.
But, I got off the streets and moved on contentedly.Then my abuser, who I had avoided for over a year, showed up in my bedroom doorway one day. The figurative knife was back at my throat again. Not being able to file police reports in the past and this time as well because , as the police told me, "it's your word against his", I did not file for a restraining order. On what grounds would I do that? Just because I had texts proving he was warned not to trespass didn't mean to the sherriff he didn't have the right to come onto the property to ask permission despite signs being obviously posted. (A law in Yolo County, California says first trespass is forgiven because a person has to actually speak to property owner to be denied permission, and to do that they have to come onto the property). And they seemed unconcerned that "to ask permission" he broke in the back door to do it.
Eventually,it became obvious our home had become unsafe. The police told me, once again, they could not file a report because no actual violence had happened. The officer said it was good I got the children out because otherwise they would have taken them away. However, he said, they could not help me find a place to stay. Upon calling the shelter in the next town, I was told there would not be room judging from the sign-in sheet from the night before. So, I called the local organizations and churches to see if we could at least get a motel room to buy me time to come up with a plan to get us out of there. I was limited by a custody order that required thirty days notice before any change of address and having the children available for paid, professionally supervised visits. Those churches and organizations are all linked together for the protection of their organizations so people can't "double dip". After what happened next, it felt like they were linked together just to be a gossip ring, in my opinion. They called the shelter in the next town that I had called then got back to me saying the shelter definately had room. I did not know what kind of game was being played or what kind of unstable people would tell me one thing then fellow social service "brothers" another. I was a circus freak again. Alone on the street with an abuser lurking was the knife to my throat. I was NOT going to entrust my children's security to such unreliable people as the social service organizations. So, I did what I had to do and said what I had to say to get my children out of there. The police were called (not by me) and with the help of the local district attorney's office, I was back in the shelter for victims of domestic violence.
I had applied for the housing program through the Davis Community Meals some time back and they had notified me that they had an opening. So, I made an appointment for an interview while in the shelter. I was questioned, all right. "Did the domestic violence shelter know I had gone back to my abuser?". "Were they serious?!" crossed my mind.I had once written them that I no longer needed their services, one reminded me arrogantly. Well, yes that was true because at that time I didn't. Picking up on their intentions because, believe it or not I am quite discerning, I plainly asked them: "You had no intention of letting me in the program". The reply was honest: "No, we can't protect you from your abuser". So, what was the point of the interview but to catch up on the street gossip and mock me? I spoke up for myself and told the one man in that room, when he had just finished speaking, "You. are. a. very. very. small. man.". I was reprimanded, "You can't talk to people like that" as I rose to walk out. while they might have perceived themselves as showing me out when I rose to leave, they were the ones who opened the door for me and I left at my own pace with head held high. In that moment, they became my circus freaks and their reactions to me very entertaining. In my mind, they became clowns not to be taken seriously. Their immaturity, insincerety, and pettiness was cartoonish.
I left Davis California on a small private airplane and ate first class all the way to my next destination where I left by bus. I was treated with common human decency, respect and dignity. I was no longer Davis' Circus freak, food for gossip, judgement and criticism. Charity work can be done respectfully. So, now I will tell you all what you did not know about me. I was raised with money and political influence. I was groomed to live in it and use it. I excelled at all I did and had parents who wanted desperately to ride on my coattails. But I know it's dirty little secrets and that is why I shunned it in my own life. I had aced my bussiness and accounting classes in college. I never had trouble managing money or being responsible with it. I was simply never inspired enough in any direction to use my talents. I once organized a convoy of 100 vehicles in response to a shooting and protest over how the courts were handling it, which made the news worldwide. I always excelled in english courses, especially in writing. I know how to use words to move people with what honestly comes from my heart, to action if needed, I learned organizing that convoy. That, in it's self is a power. I have the potential to do something very big with my life. I may have fallen down due to a lack of direction and insecurities from an abusive upbringing, but I have skills, knowledge and understanding. Now I know how I want to use them. I have been working on starting my own charitable organization. God willing, every single person I meet in my daily interactions will go away having been treated with as much warmth, love, affection, common decency, respect and dignity as possible in every given moment. Even if that means occassionally, calling human beings on their behavior, there is a time and a season for everything. And in the manner of a circus ringmaster, I give a grandiose bow of gratitude to the social organization employees of Davis: thank you for showing me exactly what I NEVER want to be.I may have done the same to someone else somewhere in my past, and for that I am sorry. I can only pray my soul has learned it's lesson and I never let it happen again.
By God's Magenta Flame
When someone has a knife to your throat, you do what you need to do and say what you need to say to get away. You tell the one with the knife what they want to hear to keep yourself safe until you can get free. Life on the streets is alot like that. It is probably even more like that when you are a woman with children because it's not only a figurative knife at your throat, but the throats of your children. One bad decision can get you robbed, beaten, kidnapped or raped. You find yourself talking down strangers who presumptuously pick up your children in the most quiet and peaceful way possible. Then are criticized by self-righteous observers for being irresponsible for not making a big enough fuss and yanking your children away in a big scene. The last thing I needed was to anger and make an active enemy of someone who is not psychologically stable due to mental illness or drug addiction. So, a polite, good-humored manner was indeed the most responsible way for me, as a mother, to handle people picking up my children while availing ourselves of daytime services at the local shelter in Davis. It led to a private talking to from the employees there who questioned my judgement in "allowing" others to pick up my children.
I quietly observed daily the "banter" between shelter employees and those they were supposed to be serving. The shelter employees' "playful" tones were downgrading and ridiculing but some of these men actually lit up as if they were being treated as special. One man thought he was "in good" with the employees. he had once told me to let him handle them for me. He didn't hear how they spoke of him behind his back when he left. They are quite adept at eye-rolling. I definately got the impression that those employees showed up to work each day for the same reasons people pay to see circus "freaks". The homeless were their entertainment. I definately never once left there feeling as if I had been treated with common respect and human dignity.
But, I got off the streets and moved on contentedly.Then my abuser, who I had avoided for over a year, showed up in my bedroom doorway one day. The figurative knife was back at my throat again. Not being able to file police reports in the past and this time as well because , as the police told me, "it's your word against his", I did not file for a restraining order. On what grounds would I do that? Just because I had texts proving he was warned not to trespass didn't mean to the sherriff he didn't have the right to come onto the property to ask permission despite signs being obviously posted. (A law in Yolo County, California says first trespass is forgiven because a person has to actually speak to property owner to be denied permission, and to do that they have to come onto the property). And they seemed unconcerned that "to ask permission" he broke in the back door to do it.
Eventually,it became obvious our home had become unsafe. The police told me, once again, they could not file a report because no actual violence had happened. The officer said it was good I got the children out because otherwise they would have taken them away. However, he said, they could not help me find a place to stay. Upon calling the shelter in the next town, I was told there would not be room judging from the sign-in sheet from the night before. So, I called the local organizations and churches to see if we could at least get a motel room to buy me time to come up with a plan to get us out of there. I was limited by a custody order that required thirty days notice before any change of address and having the children available for paid, professionally supervised visits. Those churches and organizations are all linked together for the protection of their organizations so people can't "double dip". After what happened next, it felt like they were linked together just to be a gossip ring, in my opinion. They called the shelter in the next town that I had called then got back to me saying the shelter definately had room. I did not know what kind of game was being played or what kind of unstable people would tell me one thing then fellow social service "brothers" another. I was a circus freak again. Alone on the street with an abuser lurking was the knife to my throat. I was NOT going to entrust my children's security to such unreliable people as the social service organizations. So, I did what I had to do and said what I had to say to get my children out of there. The police were called (not by me) and with the help of the local district attorney's office, I was back in the shelter for victims of domestic violence.
I had applied for the housing program through the Davis Community Meals some time back and they had notified me that they had an opening. So, I made an appointment for an interview while in the shelter. I was questioned, all right. "Did the domestic violence shelter know I had gone back to my abuser?". "Were they serious?!" crossed my mind.I had once written them that I no longer needed their services, one reminded me arrogantly. Well, yes that was true because at that time I didn't. Picking up on their intentions because, believe it or not I am quite discerning, I plainly asked them: "You had no intention of letting me in the program". The reply was honest: "No, we can't protect you from your abuser". So, what was the point of the interview but to catch up on the street gossip and mock me? I spoke up for myself and told the one man in that room, when he had just finished speaking, "You. are. a. very. very. small. man.". I was reprimanded, "You can't talk to people like that" as I rose to walk out. while they might have perceived themselves as showing me out when I rose to leave, they were the ones who opened the door for me and I left at my own pace with head held high. In that moment, they became my circus freaks and their reactions to me very entertaining. In my mind, they became clowns not to be taken seriously. Their immaturity, insincerety, and pettiness was cartoonish.
I left Davis California on a small private airplane and ate first class all the way to my next destination where I left by bus. I was treated with common human decency, respect and dignity. I was no longer Davis' Circus freak, food for gossip, judgement and criticism. Charity work can be done respectfully. So, now I will tell you all what you did not know about me. I was raised with money and political influence. I was groomed to live in it and use it. I excelled at all I did and had parents who wanted desperately to ride on my coattails. But I know it's dirty little secrets and that is why I shunned it in my own life. I had aced my bussiness and accounting classes in college. I never had trouble managing money or being responsible with it. I was simply never inspired enough in any direction to use my talents. I once organized a convoy of 100 vehicles in response to a shooting and protest over how the courts were handling it, which made the news worldwide. I always excelled in english courses, especially in writing. I know how to use words to move people with what honestly comes from my heart, to action if needed, I learned organizing that convoy. That, in it's self is a power. I have the potential to do something very big with my life. I may have fallen down due to a lack of direction and insecurities from an abusive upbringing, but I have skills, knowledge and understanding. Now I know how I want to use them. I have been working on starting my own charitable organization. God willing, every single person I meet in my daily interactions will go away having been treated with as much warmth, love, affection, common decency, respect and dignity as possible in every given moment. Even if that means occassionally, calling human beings on their behavior, there is a time and a season for everything. And in the manner of a circus ringmaster, I give a grandiose bow of gratitude to the social organization employees of Davis: thank you for showing me exactly what I NEVER want to be.I may have done the same to someone else somewhere in my past, and for that I am sorry. I can only pray my soul has learned it's lesson and I never let it happen again.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
name decided
I really did not like the feel of the word charity and "grandma's house" had a feel I didn't think appropriate. So, I guess I will go with my original idea: "Detroit Village Neighborly". Got a tax id number so we can open a bank account to get us started.
Why I want to support my Maine community
Why I want to support my Maine community
by Crystal Morningstar (aka Stacey Bourdeau)
(This is a long one, so I hope you bear with me and sure, you can laugh with me at my expense. I hope you do!) My first experience of Maine was when I was 19. I had come up with a group of friends out of connecticut to look at a tree truck they were interested in maybe buying. We were finishing a meal in a resteraunt when I heard from out of the crowd "damn flatlanders, you're all retarded", definately directed our way. I don't know what got into me because it was not my usual charector, but burst out of my mouth was "oh, yeah, well I heard all mainers were in-bred". I hurried to our vehicle, even quicker when I noticed all the guns on gun racks in pick-up trucks in the parking lot...funny, hadn't noticed them so acutely when we went in. I honestly don't ever remember hearing that about mainers and to be honest, my friends had even embarrassed me by their behavior in the resteraunt. My retort was probably a defense mechanism kicking in or something.But what was wrong with being from 'away' or a 'flatlander'? what was it that made us so distateful, as if we were diseased? Eventually, I would understand it: it's a mentality and it is crippling.
Years later I was a single mother of a single daughter. My aunt, who lived up here told me I should move up, it was awesome. Little crime and by the time the latest fads reached here, they were out of style. Good place to raise children. Not long after a young man was shot in the head in the Connecticut town I lived in, I took her up on that offer. I was told by a local that I would never get a job up here because I was too outgoing. What did that mean?!, I wondered. I had been led to believe outgoing was a good quality and one I did not believe I possessed. I was always accused of being too quiet, shy and sensative! What on earth was I in for and up against? turns out, "outgoing" can be felt as presumptuous and too loud in perspective to Maine's country folk. I now know what that means.
I got the job and settled in, somewhat becoming part of parts of the community (not a misprint). Eventually I had two more children and was one day walking on some property with all of them. I heard a gunshot. The sound's source was not close enough to make me jump, but as I turned to seek out it's source the gun was being lowered and I was startled by where it had been aimed. The man with the gun came up and explained a raccoon had been headed straight for the children, being daylight and from the way it was stumbling, it was rabid. "Should I call someone? They like to keep track of rabid animals for statistics and stuff.....". "Hell, no!", He replied, "they'll take my gun!". I was surprised by that concern. Why would someone take his gun when it just saved at least one of my children's lives? I did learn one lesson, however. 'Rabid animals' are gonna happen in life. Where a "flatlander" would panic at it, a Mainer doesn't. Ya just hope you have a neighbor brave enough to have a gun who is good enough to use it successfully, if you don't yourself. Probably a relief to your neighbors if you'd take that responsibility for yourself. They don't want your kid dying of rabies, either.
Another incident made me reconsider my thinking. We had just moved onto property when I discovered a dead deer on the side of the road at the edge of our property. I called everyone I could think of would be the "right" official to handle it. In Connectiticut, that's what you do; call the road crew. carcasses are always cleaned up. Road crew? lol Animal control:"we don't do that sort of thing". forestry service:"drag it into the woods." "But it will stink and draw bears!". "Put some lime on it". speechless. Take care of it myself? Just let it decompose out there? duh me! Let nature take it's course? That is around the time I began to immerse myself in the local spirit of self-sufficiency, creativity, and resourcefulness which all go hand-in-hand around here. I was a rule follower and people pleaser, too "eager", looking for direction(part of what 'outgoing' means to a Mainer), a sensative perfectionsist. my mother once told me I wasn't street-smart. I wasn't. I was 'book smart'. I was used to being given rules and structures, regulations and restrictions, and I followed them (except for when I didn't, lol I was once a child). But now I was beginning to learn a bit of how to be independent and self-sufficient, less of a burden. It was this beggining of self-sufficiency that gave me the courage to leave. I still had growing to do and felt I couldn't do it so deeply entrenched and connected to family. I certainly didn't think any locals would miss me, I was just that 'flatlander' that had invaded with her crippled mentality and emotional messiness.
10 years later, after learning alot through the hard knocks of life's school, I returned.I hoped I had brought something of value back with me.I have definately quieted a bit and in observing have even since my return, learned a few things still. It was a relieving re-set for me when I first came back and accompianied someone to the gas station. It took so long. They all stopped to talk. Slowly. Mainers, like so many country folk, do not speak slowly because they are ignorant. Behind the words they are speaking can be a ponderence, reflection, observation, appreciation and respect for the concept of interaction they probably take for granted. It can be a spiritually higher intelligence that has a broadness to it. Trust me, they aren't missing a thing! They notice every detail of what's missing and what isn't.Some spend years practicing meditation techniques for years to achieve something close to it.
Their bussinesses have traditionally been places where socialization happens. They are second homes to the families that run them. They aren't meant to be a quick in and out, in orderly fashion, like the rest of society overwhelmed in numbers and urgency. Mainers aren't cold and distant, closeminded or unreceptive. They are just observent and discerning, slow to make connections because up here, you mean something to somebody.....alot, to everybody. It is the kind of connection that can be scary. It is alot of responsibility and committment. It is something city folk aren't used to having with people from anywhere coming and going, people being a dime a dozen."Flatlands" are ponds full of fish. If you can't hack it with one, you toss it back. There is no reason to question your own emotional maturity or mentality. You will always find someone who will agree with you and you move on to the next group if they don't like it.
But not in places like rural Maine. It means stability and responsibility. It means faithfulness and loyalty. It means someone has your back and you've got theirs. It takes time to prove you can hack it. But once you're in, you're family. This kind of connection does have it's own dangers. attachment can lead to taking things too personally. Tough times can cause some to slip into dependency, co-depency, controlling behaviors and other dysfunctions. These then sometimes lead to dissatisfaction on into drug and alcohol addictions. But it is nothing that cannot be overcome by a bit of heart-to-heart honesty, acceptence, and appreciation. Which is what I hope I bring to the table: a little respect, love and appreciation for "the way life should be". I want to learn this for myself and I want my children to have it. I want to do my part to preserve it.
by Crystal Morningstar (aka Stacey Bourdeau)
(This is a long one, so I hope you bear with me and sure, you can laugh with me at my expense. I hope you do!) My first experience of Maine was when I was 19. I had come up with a group of friends out of connecticut to look at a tree truck they were interested in maybe buying. We were finishing a meal in a resteraunt when I heard from out of the crowd "damn flatlanders, you're all retarded", definately directed our way. I don't know what got into me because it was not my usual charector, but burst out of my mouth was "oh, yeah, well I heard all mainers were in-bred". I hurried to our vehicle, even quicker when I noticed all the guns on gun racks in pick-up trucks in the parking lot...funny, hadn't noticed them so acutely when we went in. I honestly don't ever remember hearing that about mainers and to be honest, my friends had even embarrassed me by their behavior in the resteraunt. My retort was probably a defense mechanism kicking in or something.But what was wrong with being from 'away' or a 'flatlander'? what was it that made us so distateful, as if we were diseased? Eventually, I would understand it: it's a mentality and it is crippling.
Years later I was a single mother of a single daughter. My aunt, who lived up here told me I should move up, it was awesome. Little crime and by the time the latest fads reached here, they were out of style. Good place to raise children. Not long after a young man was shot in the head in the Connecticut town I lived in, I took her up on that offer. I was told by a local that I would never get a job up here because I was too outgoing. What did that mean?!, I wondered. I had been led to believe outgoing was a good quality and one I did not believe I possessed. I was always accused of being too quiet, shy and sensative! What on earth was I in for and up against? turns out, "outgoing" can be felt as presumptuous and too loud in perspective to Maine's country folk. I now know what that means.
I got the job and settled in, somewhat becoming part of parts of the community (not a misprint). Eventually I had two more children and was one day walking on some property with all of them. I heard a gunshot. The sound's source was not close enough to make me jump, but as I turned to seek out it's source the gun was being lowered and I was startled by where it had been aimed. The man with the gun came up and explained a raccoon had been headed straight for the children, being daylight and from the way it was stumbling, it was rabid. "Should I call someone? They like to keep track of rabid animals for statistics and stuff.....". "Hell, no!", He replied, "they'll take my gun!". I was surprised by that concern. Why would someone take his gun when it just saved at least one of my children's lives? I did learn one lesson, however. 'Rabid animals' are gonna happen in life. Where a "flatlander" would panic at it, a Mainer doesn't. Ya just hope you have a neighbor brave enough to have a gun who is good enough to use it successfully, if you don't yourself. Probably a relief to your neighbors if you'd take that responsibility for yourself. They don't want your kid dying of rabies, either.
Another incident made me reconsider my thinking. We had just moved onto property when I discovered a dead deer on the side of the road at the edge of our property. I called everyone I could think of would be the "right" official to handle it. In Connectiticut, that's what you do; call the road crew. carcasses are always cleaned up. Road crew? lol Animal control:"we don't do that sort of thing". forestry service:"drag it into the woods." "But it will stink and draw bears!". "Put some lime on it". speechless. Take care of it myself? Just let it decompose out there? duh me! Let nature take it's course? That is around the time I began to immerse myself in the local spirit of self-sufficiency, creativity, and resourcefulness which all go hand-in-hand around here. I was a rule follower and people pleaser, too "eager", looking for direction(part of what 'outgoing' means to a Mainer), a sensative perfectionsist. my mother once told me I wasn't street-smart. I wasn't. I was 'book smart'. I was used to being given rules and structures, regulations and restrictions, and I followed them (except for when I didn't, lol I was once a child). But now I was beginning to learn a bit of how to be independent and self-sufficient, less of a burden. It was this beggining of self-sufficiency that gave me the courage to leave. I still had growing to do and felt I couldn't do it so deeply entrenched and connected to family. I certainly didn't think any locals would miss me, I was just that 'flatlander' that had invaded with her crippled mentality and emotional messiness.
10 years later, after learning alot through the hard knocks of life's school, I returned.I hoped I had brought something of value back with me.I have definately quieted a bit and in observing have even since my return, learned a few things still. It was a relieving re-set for me when I first came back and accompianied someone to the gas station. It took so long. They all stopped to talk. Slowly. Mainers, like so many country folk, do not speak slowly because they are ignorant. Behind the words they are speaking can be a ponderence, reflection, observation, appreciation and respect for the concept of interaction they probably take for granted. It can be a spiritually higher intelligence that has a broadness to it. Trust me, they aren't missing a thing! They notice every detail of what's missing and what isn't.Some spend years practicing meditation techniques for years to achieve something close to it.
Their bussinesses have traditionally been places where socialization happens. They are second homes to the families that run them. They aren't meant to be a quick in and out, in orderly fashion, like the rest of society overwhelmed in numbers and urgency. Mainers aren't cold and distant, closeminded or unreceptive. They are just observent and discerning, slow to make connections because up here, you mean something to somebody.....alot, to everybody. It is the kind of connection that can be scary. It is alot of responsibility and committment. It is something city folk aren't used to having with people from anywhere coming and going, people being a dime a dozen."Flatlands" are ponds full of fish. If you can't hack it with one, you toss it back. There is no reason to question your own emotional maturity or mentality. You will always find someone who will agree with you and you move on to the next group if they don't like it.
But not in places like rural Maine. It means stability and responsibility. It means faithfulness and loyalty. It means someone has your back and you've got theirs. It takes time to prove you can hack it. But once you're in, you're family. This kind of connection does have it's own dangers. attachment can lead to taking things too personally. Tough times can cause some to slip into dependency, co-depency, controlling behaviors and other dysfunctions. These then sometimes lead to dissatisfaction on into drug and alcohol addictions. But it is nothing that cannot be overcome by a bit of heart-to-heart honesty, acceptence, and appreciation. Which is what I hope I bring to the table: a little respect, love and appreciation for "the way life should be". I want to learn this for myself and I want my children to have it. I want to do my part to preserve it.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
free craft supplies
If Grandma's House gets off the ground and at least 800 people start following this blog for updates, new resources, services, etc, we can get $50-$100 in craft supplies free every month and host a monthly crafting get-together, helping us bond together as a community and foster creativity as well as just have some fun! it's an offer from Wholeport craft supplies and just a sample of what we could do for our children and ourselves if we come together on this.
more ideas
Another aspect of this bussiness could be things like:
dropping off food for people who we know need it, but would never ask
knowing a birthday has come up and drop a small gift off
dropping off food for people who we know need it, but would never ask
knowing a birthday has come up and drop a small gift off
Grandma's House of Detroit Village: "an after hours charity" .........an idea in progress
In my life I have experienced being plain ol' low income, on fixed income, and downright homeless with no income. In each experience there have been cracks we have fallen in looking for help from social service organizations. Maybe there were services we could not avail ourselves of due to lack of mobility. We would get help with food and clothing but finding diapers was impossible. Food banks are great, but the local one doesn't help with toilet paper, dish soap and the like. And even if aall we need is a bit of help with food once a month, are the only hours the foodbank is open is while we are working? While second-hand clothes are not a problem, new socks and underwear give a person a sense of dignity sometimes. Not many places will be able to help with that. Then there are the restrictions social service organizations take upon themselves to get funding from government grants, restrictions that place conditions on how and whom they can help. You can spend forty hours a week jumping through hoops and chasing down services. It WOULD be easier to have a job and we know it. We would probably spend less in gas money, lol.
Maybe you're just having a rough month. Your car broke down and fixing it or getting a new one cuts into your budget. It's a dominoe effect in action and you've got shut off notices.You seek help and after giving your entire life story, violate your privacy and feel completely humiliated and degraded, you have too much income. They won't help. And even if the reason for your situation was a poor decision, who are we to judge? As if anyone can say they haven't ever made a poor decision, trusted the wrong person, etc. Hopefully we learn from it, but maybe we need a little help while we figure it out.
What about pets? Good luck convincing an agency pet food and vet bills are a neccessary expense. for some of us, choosing whether to buy pet food or people food is like asking which of our children do we want to eat and which do wea want to let go without. You won't get dog food at the foodbank. Maybe your horses need hay this winter and you just lost your job. There might be a farmer nearby who can spare some.
Maybe we just need a shower or to do a load of laundry. Most would just shrug and say it is our family's responsibility. Yours may recognize that, but not everyone's does. For those, to get a shower or do a load of laundry means having to emotionally walk through a barage of criticism, emotional and psychological abuse which led them into a life of poor decisions to begin with. They'd rather sleep on the street, wash their clothes in a sink, and go around dirty. Some tough it out because they don't want their children to experience such family interactions as normal, only repeating the cycle. They lose family and friends making that brave decision.
To help someone up out of a ditch, you have to give them more than enough to meet their basic needs: sometimes you have to feed a man while you teach him to fish so he doesn't starve to death while learning. Sometimes a hand up needs to include a handout. Sure, they can pay their rent and eat, but where is the money to save up for a car? There is no public transportation out here. How have you made their life better? And honestly, just shoving someone into a job isn't going to change their mentality. Every resource you invested forcing them to be what they can't is only wasted time and energy. It doesn't last. They didn't use you, they didn't try to take advantage, they simply couldn't continue on a path they were forced to walk just to meet their basic needs and please you.
There is more we can do than be your average charity. We could network to match people in need with services like help with plumbing, picking your extra vegetables to give to someone who would use them, teach a skill to a few local people, form a support group or two. I would love to have it offgrid, making the most of solar and wind power to cut overhead costs, make it more self-sufficient.
It won't be until mid-march I can fill out the paperwork, apply for non-profit status, etc. I already know who to contact to walk me through the starting your own bussiness process for free and there is a place in Unity that gives grants to non-profits that I will look into. In the meantime, I am looking for input, suggestions for services we could offer, volunteers to be a part of it, etc. Fishing to see what kind of support is out there for this as well as to see if the community even wants it. so far, I have gotten good responses and people have said they would help in any way they could, but we all have limited resources. Grandma's house is going to need a house to call home, a vehicle or two, computer for records and networking, etc. I also know someone ran an ad last year in the Rolling Thunder looking for interest in creating a foodbank in Detroit. Anyone know who it was and/or what kind of responses they got. it was before I got this idea so I didn't save the ad.
Anyways, feel free to comment here if you have some helpful input!
Oh, and I aced my accounting and bussiness classes in college, so the bussiness end of doing things is within my range of abilities as well. just never before was inspired enough by a bussiness idea to use them :)
Maybe you're just having a rough month. Your car broke down and fixing it or getting a new one cuts into your budget. It's a dominoe effect in action and you've got shut off notices.You seek help and after giving your entire life story, violate your privacy and feel completely humiliated and degraded, you have too much income. They won't help. And even if the reason for your situation was a poor decision, who are we to judge? As if anyone can say they haven't ever made a poor decision, trusted the wrong person, etc. Hopefully we learn from it, but maybe we need a little help while we figure it out.
What about pets? Good luck convincing an agency pet food and vet bills are a neccessary expense. for some of us, choosing whether to buy pet food or people food is like asking which of our children do we want to eat and which do wea want to let go without. You won't get dog food at the foodbank. Maybe your horses need hay this winter and you just lost your job. There might be a farmer nearby who can spare some.
Maybe we just need a shower or to do a load of laundry. Most would just shrug and say it is our family's responsibility. Yours may recognize that, but not everyone's does. For those, to get a shower or do a load of laundry means having to emotionally walk through a barage of criticism, emotional and psychological abuse which led them into a life of poor decisions to begin with. They'd rather sleep on the street, wash their clothes in a sink, and go around dirty. Some tough it out because they don't want their children to experience such family interactions as normal, only repeating the cycle. They lose family and friends making that brave decision.
To help someone up out of a ditch, you have to give them more than enough to meet their basic needs: sometimes you have to feed a man while you teach him to fish so he doesn't starve to death while learning. Sometimes a hand up needs to include a handout. Sure, they can pay their rent and eat, but where is the money to save up for a car? There is no public transportation out here. How have you made their life better? And honestly, just shoving someone into a job isn't going to change their mentality. Every resource you invested forcing them to be what they can't is only wasted time and energy. It doesn't last. They didn't use you, they didn't try to take advantage, they simply couldn't continue on a path they were forced to walk just to meet their basic needs and please you.
There is more we can do than be your average charity. We could network to match people in need with services like help with plumbing, picking your extra vegetables to give to someone who would use them, teach a skill to a few local people, form a support group or two. I would love to have it offgrid, making the most of solar and wind power to cut overhead costs, make it more self-sufficient.
It won't be until mid-march I can fill out the paperwork, apply for non-profit status, etc. I already know who to contact to walk me through the starting your own bussiness process for free and there is a place in Unity that gives grants to non-profits that I will look into. In the meantime, I am looking for input, suggestions for services we could offer, volunteers to be a part of it, etc. Fishing to see what kind of support is out there for this as well as to see if the community even wants it. so far, I have gotten good responses and people have said they would help in any way they could, but we all have limited resources. Grandma's house is going to need a house to call home, a vehicle or two, computer for records and networking, etc. I also know someone ran an ad last year in the Rolling Thunder looking for interest in creating a foodbank in Detroit. Anyone know who it was and/or what kind of responses they got. it was before I got this idea so I didn't save the ad.
Anyways, feel free to comment here if you have some helpful input!
Oh, and I aced my accounting and bussiness classes in college, so the bussiness end of doing things is within my range of abilities as well. just never before was inspired enough by a bussiness idea to use them :)
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