It was too early to get up but I was too restless to sleep, so I lay in bed pondering the challenges in my life. They seem huge: mounting bills, rapidly depleting resources, a deep, deep desire to live in this paradise I call "the farm" until I cross over, and sadly, no solutions on the horizon.
I employ the survival skills learned at the loss of my son only this time, there isn't the gut wrenching pain that caused me to run to the mirror to see if blood had seeped through where my heart lay. Despite the effort, I struggle with the age old conundrum, do I cut my losses and move on or batten down the hatches and hold tight?
For almost 60 years this place has been my home, my rock and a source of spiritual salvation, but I am a woman of resilience and adaptability. I could live somewhere else....I think.
Last week I traveled to the Library of Virginia for a few hours of research. Deciding to seek a bit of sustenance before being locked away in a-no-eat zone, I was enjoying my anonymity when my solitude was interrupted by a very quiet voice inquiring if she could share the table as there was no where else to sit. "Of course," I stated, pulling my boundaries into a tighter circle around my personal space. Together, we ate alone and in silence.
Finally, nosiness, cloaked in a thin veil of "Southern hospitality " got the best of me, and I inquired as to what brought her to the library. "To use the Internet," she said in an accent not of the United States, "but it is not working. There is another library not too far away; I will walk there and hope it is operating."
Mirial, a teacher in NYC from Uganda, possessed two Masters degrees and was well beyond the ABD status toward a PhD when an extraordinary series of events turned her life inside out.
The PhD dissertation was lost: the professor charged with evaluating it died while in flight in international airspace creating massive international entanglement.
Her father developed pneumonia while visiting from Uganda and died. His homeland culture demanded that his body be returned to Uganda for burial at an enormous expense.
She married, moved to Northern Virginia and found government employment. Her new husband cleaned out her bank accounts and left. She was laid off at work.
She now works at a nursing home where she is provided a room shared with others. She uses the Internet at the library to submit resumes for more gainful employment. Most applications are rejected due to a new policy: "if your credit is bad we do not want you."
Now tell me, who needs a job more desperately than someone who credit is in the toilet?
BTW, the courts found in her favor regarding the rogue husband and ordered that he repay allthe money he stole. She cannot afford an attorney and has not been able to find said varmint.
The woman does more than put one foot in front of the other. I was inspired and ashamed for my own self pity. As a token of my respect and gratitude for her example of resilience, I conducted a search and found her despicable ex. I will try harder to maintain my own sense of self esteem.
Until next time, be well.
I read your blog. I had the same experience with a woman from Iran. Her father was one of the Shah’s top generals and he was executed when the Shah was dethroned. She had been scheduled to participate in an arranged marriage with a Hussein bigwig in an effort to save the lives of her family. She was allowed to go visit a friend in Kuwait prior to her marriage, while she was gone most of her extended family was executed, her mother and siblings were able to escape, her friends in Kuwait helped her escape to Switzerland and she came to the US as a political refugee. No money, couldn’t speak English many, many barriers to overcome. She was 17 at the time of her escape. She lives in Denver now, she has two Master’s, one PHD. It was almost 20 years before she found out her mother and siblings were alive.
ReplyDeleteWhen I get really depressed about my finances, I think about this 17 year old girl and the things she had to overcome and then I slap myself in the face so I’ll know how fortunate I am.