I went for years thinking I was fat. This statement most likely means something different to me than it would to you. I have always held flesh in high appreciation. To me, a woman's body should be round. Soft, touchable curves for caressing, a big, abundant lap for holding children, a gigantic shelf of bosom both for viewing pleasure and rest of children.
I spent most of my life thinking I actually had that body. When I was younger I just thought I was "fat" in the four-letter way. As I grew up, I continued to think my body was large, but began to love it for its curviness. Little clues along the way would point out that I wasn't quite as big as I thought I was. When one of my friends would hold my newborn baby, they could rest her on the shelf created by belly and bosom, and the baby would settle in to sleep, completely supported, surrounded by warmth and comfort. If I tried the same move on me, the baby would roll right off. Hmm. When we'd go shopping in Lane Bryant, the smallest size of clothing just wouldn't fit right. I just wasn't plus-size, though I thought I was.
What I was, was very-often pregnant. I had a baby every 1-2 years for over half a decade. So, I was either growing a baby or nursing the weight off. This made for quite a lot of curves, and my face and body went through a lot of changes. Now, for the first time in a long time, I have not become pregnant. My youngest baby will be 2 in just a few days.
Over the past several months, my body has settled into itself. My facial structure is pronounced. My collar bones and upper-body musculature are defined. I still have curves, but my bra size has gone down to a modest 36C-- the first departure from D (or double-D!) in years. I am an athletic, energetic woman with a tendency to put on muscle. I have a high metabolism and must eat calorie-dense food often to keep from becoming faint (yes, I know. That's really macho). We also haven't had consistent money for food, and I've been eating less often and in less quantity over the past few months. That should be balanced out nicely by the food-hoarding and gluttony I've been participating in lately, though :)
When I look into the mirror I don't recognize myself. I wear a medium in women's size clothing. It is no Junior 00, but that was never an option anyway with my wide hips and broad shoulders. My face is not soft any longer. My body is streamlined. To me, I almost seem spindly. Sharp. I don't feel like I fit that Earth-Goddess, Big-Mama image that I held on to for so long.
I have surrounded myself with many beautiful women who do fit this image. My mother, for instance, is the woman who set the standard for beauty in my life. She is still soft and beautiful in her sixties. I have several pregnant friends right now who are blossoming with vibrant life and are gorgeous in their round bodies. And many other of my friends could step into the hippie uniform of freeform skirt and peasant blouse looking like the earth mother herself.
Next to them, I feel like a man. Of course, I also have very short hair and I tend to dress in my husband's clothing. I had a conversation with a client once about how she has such a masculine personality; it seems natural to her to balance that with her ultra-feminine style of dressing. The conversation clicked something for me about myself. I am about as feminine and woman-identified as can be. I am all mother/healer/compassionate nurturer. Maybe I am balancing this by having a streamlined, masculine outside.
This body is strong, efficient, and beautiful in its own way. It has been honed and worn down by stress lately, and I am sure that has contributed to why I don't see myself when I look in the mirror. I am just not shining out through my eyes. But as I continue to create this new life for myself, as I create through truth and emotional honesty, as I build up the confidence this time has shattered, my outside and my inside will reflect each other once again.
Most likely, I will never be fat. Even if I become pregnant, I know my body will return to a resting weight again. But I am gentle, soft, nurturing, and beautiful. I am also strong, defined, and capable. I'll find a synergy in self-acceptance in time.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Building a Home: Creating Shelter in a Poverty of Houses
The old house is officially not ours any longer. It was very surreal walking through each room with almost no trace of us having lived, loved, birthed, and grown older there. It seemed much too small of a space for all it gave us. We left it empty and lifeless.
The yard, however, is a different story. It was well-groomed and boring before. Now it teems with life and character. Perennial herbs, strawberries, and sunflowers grow in beds. Plantain, clover, and sorrel have elbowed their welcome way in. I doubt the next owners will feel the same welcome, nor will they understand the time and care that went into cultivating a relationship with those well-loved weeds. I will miss each and every one of them (as well as the best mulberry tree in Homeplace) and look forward to meeting their sisters in our next home.
But we're not there yet. And we're not sure where we're going. The kids and I have been at my parent's house for the past week. This week we need to find another place to park it, and we can go back to their house for a few more weeks when they return from vacation.
I have felt a great sense of relief since our lease ended yesterday. I have found a few hours over the past week to begin thinking about life. I know I need to address the many mistakes that have led us here. I need to pray, to think, and then I need to dream. I must create something better for my family.
Because now I see they are the center of my life. Whittled down to its core as it is now, I can see that everything else has been a distraction. I used to rush and rush, quickly becoming irritated when my kids would interrupt or change the day's course. Now they are the reason for everything I do. I have realized that in the absence of a home, I am that home. And the only way I can think of to create a home without one is to build one out of the structure, rhythm, and rules of their lives.
The way we wake up, eat, and pray; the books we read, the songs we sing: these are building the walls of our temporary shelter. The smiles we have and the jokes we share, these are its decorations. The love we have for each other, for our world, for ourselves, and between mommy and daddy, this is its foundation. Our foundation is cracked and we have not taken the time to repair it.
In the past, I've tried to cover up the cracks of our life. I use what mismatched mortar and sealant I've got, but I don't take the time to really do it right. When it cracks again, the fissures are greater. This time, I'm sending down the heavy magic of tears and revalation, the blood of compromise and owning up. I'm giving it the time it needs to root and repair.
"I want to go to the new house", Brennan cries at night. We're still building it. We've just started. I know its going to be beautiful because it will house this family. And we're gonna be stunning.
The yard, however, is a different story. It was well-groomed and boring before. Now it teems with life and character. Perennial herbs, strawberries, and sunflowers grow in beds. Plantain, clover, and sorrel have elbowed their welcome way in. I doubt the next owners will feel the same welcome, nor will they understand the time and care that went into cultivating a relationship with those well-loved weeds. I will miss each and every one of them (as well as the best mulberry tree in Homeplace) and look forward to meeting their sisters in our next home.
But we're not there yet. And we're not sure where we're going. The kids and I have been at my parent's house for the past week. This week we need to find another place to park it, and we can go back to their house for a few more weeks when they return from vacation.
I have felt a great sense of relief since our lease ended yesterday. I have found a few hours over the past week to begin thinking about life. I know I need to address the many mistakes that have led us here. I need to pray, to think, and then I need to dream. I must create something better for my family.
Because now I see they are the center of my life. Whittled down to its core as it is now, I can see that everything else has been a distraction. I used to rush and rush, quickly becoming irritated when my kids would interrupt or change the day's course. Now they are the reason for everything I do. I have realized that in the absence of a home, I am that home. And the only way I can think of to create a home without one is to build one out of the structure, rhythm, and rules of their lives.
The way we wake up, eat, and pray; the books we read, the songs we sing: these are building the walls of our temporary shelter. The smiles we have and the jokes we share, these are its decorations. The love we have for each other, for our world, for ourselves, and between mommy and daddy, this is its foundation. Our foundation is cracked and we have not taken the time to repair it.
In the past, I've tried to cover up the cracks of our life. I use what mismatched mortar and sealant I've got, but I don't take the time to really do it right. When it cracks again, the fissures are greater. This time, I'm sending down the heavy magic of tears and revalation, the blood of compromise and owning up. I'm giving it the time it needs to root and repair.
"I want to go to the new house", Brennan cries at night. We're still building it. We've just started. I know its going to be beautiful because it will house this family. And we're gonna be stunning.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
A House Divided: Decisions Made about Housing
We are going to live with family in actual houses with beds. However, we will not be living under the same roof. My marriage has not survived the strain, and we will be separating.
I almost can't believe that we've come to this place. A year ago we were one of the strongest couples I had ever seen. The financial stress we've been under has eroded so much, and I'm on a journey of recovery from codependency, for lack of a better term. It is really hard to create healthy relationship patterns after eight years together. Throw in extreme stress and neglect, and there's just no saving it, for now.
Patrick will always be in my life and I in his. We created a family together, and we will always be joined by them. The promises we made each other years ago are still there. He still lives in my heart. I love him so much, and I pray that we will come together again as strong, whole people. It is not love if it is held together by fear. It is love when both parties are certain they each have a choice about whether to go or stay, and are choosing to stay, every day.
Patrick, I am sorry you must go through this time by yourself. If I could hold you through it, I would, but I cannot take away your healing, your growth, or your journey.
I love you. I always will.
I almost can't believe that we've come to this place. A year ago we were one of the strongest couples I had ever seen. The financial stress we've been under has eroded so much, and I'm on a journey of recovery from codependency, for lack of a better term. It is really hard to create healthy relationship patterns after eight years together. Throw in extreme stress and neglect, and there's just no saving it, for now.
Patrick will always be in my life and I in his. We created a family together, and we will always be joined by them. The promises we made each other years ago are still there. He still lives in my heart. I love him so much, and I pray that we will come together again as strong, whole people. It is not love if it is held together by fear. It is love when both parties are certain they each have a choice about whether to go or stay, and are choosing to stay, every day.
Patrick, I am sorry you must go through this time by yourself. If I could hold you through it, I would, but I cannot take away your healing, your growth, or your journey.
I love you. I always will.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Comparison of Benefits and Drawbacks: Off-Grid Living vs. Other Options
We have been going through so much change and it has been so constant. We may have lost sight of what we are truly trying to accomplish with our back-to-the-land movement.
What are our main goals?
*Reduce expenses/find better job to raise income
*Connect as a family and recreate relationship patterns. In our marriage, figuring out what is appropriate to do, want, and ask for, and finding really good ways of communicating that build bonds instead of breaking them. In our parenting: creating structure and consistency and good boundaries with the kids. A big source of our life chaos is expressed by the kids' total lack of self-control and refusal to do what is asked of them.
*Create a secure future by building up employment, financial skills, and self-sufficiency.
*Spend more time in the natural world; create a space for beauty, healing, and introspection.
Can we accomplish that by living in a tent? Can we accomplish that another way? What are our other options?
*The "just work harder" model:
Patrick gets two jobs, I get two jobs, we find unpaid childcare for the kids, and we scrape and scramble until we have enough money to "get our feet underneath us".
Benefits:
-this is another way for us to really feel the effects of our monetary decisions. This will not be fun for anyone, and it will take hard work to get back to where we need to be.
-it is socially acceptable and brings honor. Everyone would see what we were trying to do.
-if it works, it brings feelings of accomplishment and having built one's own life.
Drawbacks:
-this American Way model is failing all around us. It is a main reason I'm trying to think outside the box. The working poor used to be able to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, but it simply isn't happening anymore.
-it assumes variables that may not be achievable: our finding several jobs that are willing to work with our schedules, our being able to sustain them, and our finding adequate childcare and transportation.
-it doesn't take into account our high-needs child, my own high-needs status that would keep me from functioning after about two weeks, and the invisible costs of going without unpaid homemaking: much higher food costs, the inevitability of living in a dirty house, and children who no longer have the stability of at-home parents. For Brennan especially, this has always been unsustainable in the past.
-this is wage slavery, and it is what we are trying to escape from. At best, we can hope to scrape by a little more than we have been, only to find ourselves back where we started. The $1400 a month we can expect from this won't put any stability under us and will crumble with the first emergency.
I know this option is the most obvious for many, but I believe it to be unrealistic and unworkable. NO.
*The "living with friends or family" model:
we live in someone else's living space and use their resources.
Benefits:
-we have adequate shelter, food, and safety from predators. We will have some protection from the elements and things like electricity, toilets, and running water. Guaranteed.
-it makes everyone feel better. This takes away the fears associated with "being homeless", and others will feel less compelled to save us from this emergency because we will be safe.
-it is a familiar situation yet one with enough stigma and discomfort that we may still have strong motivation to change our life patterns.
-because we won't be paying rent or will be paying less than we were before, it still gives us a chance to pay off debts
Drawbacks:
-living in close quarters will become unsustainable very quickly. I don't have strong personal boundaries yet, and neither do most of the people I associate with. Responsibilities will become fuzzy, resentments will grow, and the friendship we had to begin with may be destroyed entirely by the end. We have just gone through this with one friend living with us. We have fresh memories of exactly how much this didn't work.
-we won't feel like we have a home and will constantly feel like we are on eggshells. We will want to let it all hang out, but won't be able to because of how this will affect others around us. We will have no privacy or autonomy, and will very likely find ourselves feeling in debt to our host.
-we will not have time or space to work on family issues and will indeed probably find ourselves feeling less like a family because we have been thrust into the middle of someone else's.
-we don't know anyone with adequate space to actually offer us a place to live for months. This isn't a couple of weeks we are asking. That could be survivable in many ways. We will need a place until we have enough money for our own again. That will take time.
*The "stay here and pay more rent" model:
beg our landlady to keep us on and pay her more money than we were before.
Benefits:
-kids have a familiar home with all the safety and benefits outlined above, plus a lack of visible transition.
-we can work this in many ways to try and find money to achieve our goals.
-this is socially-acceptable and logical.
Drawbacks:
-assumes we can stay. Landlady said two weeks, and she probably wasn't bluffing.
-assumes we can make enough money to pay rent. Since we haven't been able to meet even the rent we've already owed, it doesn't make much sense to rely on giving her more money. Would require us to have a different, greater source of income that we haven't acquired already.
-we want to find a different place to live anyway. We've outgrown this house and even though it serves us in summer, we cannot afford to live here in the winter with our $350 monthly gas bills, assuming we could even have gas turned on, as it will take $1000 to get it turned back on before the winter.
-this most likely perpetuates problems. Staying in the same place geographically seems like it would lull us into a feeling of false security. We may not change anything if we don't "have to."
*The "take a loan" model:
People have offered us money to get back on our feet.
Benefits:
-we would have an immediate improvement in quality of living and a little bit of rented time.
Drawbacks:
-this is the way we've always done it in the past. When the going got rough, someone would always come by with a handout. (Since we've never paid back a loan, we couldn't consider this anything but a handout. I have no confidence in our ability to pay any debt). This has taught us nothing and has perpetuated a pattern of never taking responsibility for our own financial lives.
-we will have less motivation to change our life patterns because the wolf will not be at the door any longer.
-my spirit screams "No!" when I think about this option.
*The "living in a tent" option
Benefits:
-enforced togetherness with less known distractions
-living with the bare essentials: less to keep up, less responsibilities, less time and money drains. It takes everything down to what is most basic.
-creating new skills and new life patterns. These are unavoidable with this option. The catharsis model. It builds something, creates something. We learn how to move toward self-sufficiency. We can take these tools, both educational and tangible, back into our lives later. We can keep the wood stove in our new home. We will come back with less stuff to clutter our lives. We keep the skills of finding food, living without gadgets, eating simply.
-ideally, it brings us out into nature. We are in need of healing, and Mother Nature is the best healer I know. I want to see my kids out there running free, being kids. I want to have that for myself.
-It gives us no escape from the consequences of our choices. If we become homeless, it is the natural consequence of making bad financial decisions.
-It reduces expenses in a big chunk. We won't have the $650 in rent every month to pay, so that should free up many resources so we can pay off debts and buy things (like a wood stove) that will continue to "give" to us later.
Drawbacks:
-Extreme unknown. There are too many variables here. We simply have no idea what to expect.
-may not create more time. It is very possible that simply trying to survive will eat up all our time and energy.
-Taking natural consequences this far is very extreme and may have many more and longer-lasting implications than I had thought about at the start of this project. Such adversity may simply push us past learning from our mistakes into the desire to do anything to feel more comfort, including going right back to our mistakes. Maybe it is such an exercise in deprivation that we come back and buy everything back and then some.
-It sounds like it would be cheaper to live in a tent. But will it be? With car gas, tools for survival, the cost of keeping our morale, and unexpected expenses that are surely lurking, it becomes less certain. We plan on doing a cost-analysis tonight.
-Living in nature sounds great. Do we actually have that available, or will we be living in someone's suburban backyard? That's no different from the "nature" we have right now.
Almost all of the possible benefits are offset by the chance that they might not be achievable. Because of the giant variable of the unknown, we cannot rely on any of these things.
Is there a way to combine options to make something more practical and still get the benefits we want?
Maybe we could live in someone's home, but create a living space that is just ours in their back yard?
Maybe we could take a loan and put the money toward a yurt or parcel of land?
Any more ideas out there?
What are our main goals?
*Reduce expenses/find better job to raise income
*Connect as a family and recreate relationship patterns. In our marriage, figuring out what is appropriate to do, want, and ask for, and finding really good ways of communicating that build bonds instead of breaking them. In our parenting: creating structure and consistency and good boundaries with the kids. A big source of our life chaos is expressed by the kids' total lack of self-control and refusal to do what is asked of them.
*Create a secure future by building up employment, financial skills, and self-sufficiency.
*Spend more time in the natural world; create a space for beauty, healing, and introspection.
Can we accomplish that by living in a tent? Can we accomplish that another way? What are our other options?
*The "just work harder" model:
Patrick gets two jobs, I get two jobs, we find unpaid childcare for the kids, and we scrape and scramble until we have enough money to "get our feet underneath us".
Benefits:
-this is another way for us to really feel the effects of our monetary decisions. This will not be fun for anyone, and it will take hard work to get back to where we need to be.
-it is socially acceptable and brings honor. Everyone would see what we were trying to do.
-if it works, it brings feelings of accomplishment and having built one's own life.
Drawbacks:
-this American Way model is failing all around us. It is a main reason I'm trying to think outside the box. The working poor used to be able to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, but it simply isn't happening anymore.
-it assumes variables that may not be achievable: our finding several jobs that are willing to work with our schedules, our being able to sustain them, and our finding adequate childcare and transportation.
-it doesn't take into account our high-needs child, my own high-needs status that would keep me from functioning after about two weeks, and the invisible costs of going without unpaid homemaking: much higher food costs, the inevitability of living in a dirty house, and children who no longer have the stability of at-home parents. For Brennan especially, this has always been unsustainable in the past.
-this is wage slavery, and it is what we are trying to escape from. At best, we can hope to scrape by a little more than we have been, only to find ourselves back where we started. The $1400 a month we can expect from this won't put any stability under us and will crumble with the first emergency.
I know this option is the most obvious for many, but I believe it to be unrealistic and unworkable. NO.
*The "living with friends or family" model:
we live in someone else's living space and use their resources.
Benefits:
-we have adequate shelter, food, and safety from predators. We will have some protection from the elements and things like electricity, toilets, and running water. Guaranteed.
-it makes everyone feel better. This takes away the fears associated with "being homeless", and others will feel less compelled to save us from this emergency because we will be safe.
-it is a familiar situation yet one with enough stigma and discomfort that we may still have strong motivation to change our life patterns.
-because we won't be paying rent or will be paying less than we were before, it still gives us a chance to pay off debts
Drawbacks:
-living in close quarters will become unsustainable very quickly. I don't have strong personal boundaries yet, and neither do most of the people I associate with. Responsibilities will become fuzzy, resentments will grow, and the friendship we had to begin with may be destroyed entirely by the end. We have just gone through this with one friend living with us. We have fresh memories of exactly how much this didn't work.
-we won't feel like we have a home and will constantly feel like we are on eggshells. We will want to let it all hang out, but won't be able to because of how this will affect others around us. We will have no privacy or autonomy, and will very likely find ourselves feeling in debt to our host.
-we will not have time or space to work on family issues and will indeed probably find ourselves feeling less like a family because we have been thrust into the middle of someone else's.
-we don't know anyone with adequate space to actually offer us a place to live for months. This isn't a couple of weeks we are asking. That could be survivable in many ways. We will need a place until we have enough money for our own again. That will take time.
*The "stay here and pay more rent" model:
beg our landlady to keep us on and pay her more money than we were before.
Benefits:
-kids have a familiar home with all the safety and benefits outlined above, plus a lack of visible transition.
-we can work this in many ways to try and find money to achieve our goals.
-this is socially-acceptable and logical.
Drawbacks:
-assumes we can stay. Landlady said two weeks, and she probably wasn't bluffing.
-assumes we can make enough money to pay rent. Since we haven't been able to meet even the rent we've already owed, it doesn't make much sense to rely on giving her more money. Would require us to have a different, greater source of income that we haven't acquired already.
-we want to find a different place to live anyway. We've outgrown this house and even though it serves us in summer, we cannot afford to live here in the winter with our $350 monthly gas bills, assuming we could even have gas turned on, as it will take $1000 to get it turned back on before the winter.
-this most likely perpetuates problems. Staying in the same place geographically seems like it would lull us into a feeling of false security. We may not change anything if we don't "have to."
*The "take a loan" model:
People have offered us money to get back on our feet.
Benefits:
-we would have an immediate improvement in quality of living and a little bit of rented time.
Drawbacks:
-this is the way we've always done it in the past. When the going got rough, someone would always come by with a handout. (Since we've never paid back a loan, we couldn't consider this anything but a handout. I have no confidence in our ability to pay any debt). This has taught us nothing and has perpetuated a pattern of never taking responsibility for our own financial lives.
-we will have less motivation to change our life patterns because the wolf will not be at the door any longer.
-my spirit screams "No!" when I think about this option.
*The "living in a tent" option
Benefits:
-enforced togetherness with less known distractions
-living with the bare essentials: less to keep up, less responsibilities, less time and money drains. It takes everything down to what is most basic.
-creating new skills and new life patterns. These are unavoidable with this option. The catharsis model. It builds something, creates something. We learn how to move toward self-sufficiency. We can take these tools, both educational and tangible, back into our lives later. We can keep the wood stove in our new home. We will come back with less stuff to clutter our lives. We keep the skills of finding food, living without gadgets, eating simply.
-ideally, it brings us out into nature. We are in need of healing, and Mother Nature is the best healer I know. I want to see my kids out there running free, being kids. I want to have that for myself.
-It gives us no escape from the consequences of our choices. If we become homeless, it is the natural consequence of making bad financial decisions.
-It reduces expenses in a big chunk. We won't have the $650 in rent every month to pay, so that should free up many resources so we can pay off debts and buy things (like a wood stove) that will continue to "give" to us later.
Drawbacks:
-Extreme unknown. There are too many variables here. We simply have no idea what to expect.
-may not create more time. It is very possible that simply trying to survive will eat up all our time and energy.
-Taking natural consequences this far is very extreme and may have many more and longer-lasting implications than I had thought about at the start of this project. Such adversity may simply push us past learning from our mistakes into the desire to do anything to feel more comfort, including going right back to our mistakes. Maybe it is such an exercise in deprivation that we come back and buy everything back and then some.
-It sounds like it would be cheaper to live in a tent. But will it be? With car gas, tools for survival, the cost of keeping our morale, and unexpected expenses that are surely lurking, it becomes less certain. We plan on doing a cost-analysis tonight.
-Living in nature sounds great. Do we actually have that available, or will we be living in someone's suburban backyard? That's no different from the "nature" we have right now.
Almost all of the possible benefits are offset by the chance that they might not be achievable. Because of the giant variable of the unknown, we cannot rely on any of these things.
Is there a way to combine options to make something more practical and still get the benefits we want?
Maybe we could live in someone's home, but create a living space that is just ours in their back yard?
Maybe we could take a loan and put the money toward a yurt or parcel of land?
Any more ideas out there?
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Afloat
We got a call tonight that effectively removed one of our most viable housing options. The other one, the farm we've been negotiating with, hasn't called us back. We're afloat. I had some moments of absolute, stark terror. I sat in the car, staring at my phone. Do I call someone? Who will talk me down from this rising panic? Can I dial the phone? Should I?
I'm tired of emergency. I'm tired of it overflowing onto those who love me. This is mine: my life, my mess. I can and should handle it. This isn't the same as saying I should "suck it up and deal" (wink) because I'm not shoving anything aside. I *feel*. But what to do with those feelings? Let them run me? Let myself drown? No. I let go. I trust. Because God designed this life for me and he put me in it, knowing the kind of person I am. I've got to trust that I haven't destroyed everything. I've got to trust that the right option will turn up. Maybe the ones we have seen so far aren't right, so they haven't worked out. The right one will.
We have 8 days here. Then one friend has offered us a week in their backyard. After that, another one needs some house sitting. Maybe we can be a family circus. Anyone need some hot-weather diversion? We could be a weekly traveling side show. Suburban performance art. Who knows? I saw the beginning of a tent city near 22nd and college. The world is changing the world. We're changing with it.
I'm tired of emergency. I'm tired of it overflowing onto those who love me. This is mine: my life, my mess. I can and should handle it. This isn't the same as saying I should "suck it up and deal" (wink) because I'm not shoving anything aside. I *feel*. But what to do with those feelings? Let them run me? Let myself drown? No. I let go. I trust. Because God designed this life for me and he put me in it, knowing the kind of person I am. I've got to trust that I haven't destroyed everything. I've got to trust that the right option will turn up. Maybe the ones we have seen so far aren't right, so they haven't worked out. The right one will.
We have 8 days here. Then one friend has offered us a week in their backyard. After that, another one needs some house sitting. Maybe we can be a family circus. Anyone need some hot-weather diversion? We could be a weekly traveling side show. Suburban performance art. Who knows? I saw the beginning of a tent city near 22nd and college. The world is changing the world. We're changing with it.
Simple Comfort
We sat down last night and really talked things out. Because I'd taken on the responsibility of keeping our family safe while Patrick checked out for some mental rehabilitation, when he returned we found ourselves in slightly different places. He'd thought we were taking a side-trip on an otherwise normal life path (doesn't he know better by now?). I had thought we were breaking from failing cultural patterns and creating a new life of our own.
Here is what we've begun to map out. We will find a place to rough it for the whole of the growing season. By the end of October at the latest, we will have paid off our most recent housing debts, saved up enough to remain afloat, and found a new place to live, in an actual house. We will also have a stronger marriage and a better financial plan. That's not asking for much, is it?
Patrick has a concrete plan about how to get his license back and will be studying for his CDL so he can take a job with a local courier service. The owner of this company is even going to help him pay for attorney fees if needed, so the job is pretty secure. His hope is to have the job within six weeks. He will know soon what to expect in pay, but from what he's researched so far, it should be about 3-4 times what we're making right now.
***
I got some time to think today. I puttered around the house, packing boxes for storage, filling bags and bags for Goodwill. All of the journals Patrick and I have kept individually over the past 20 years fill one box. All our pictures fill another. I'm not sure if I'm surprised it's so much or so little.
I pared down our clothing so all of it will fit in one tote. Currently it is all hanging in the closet, looking very tidy and efficient. I began packing one very special tote. Lined up on the bottom, with their spines neatly in a row, are the books we will take with us to read. We have poetry, books on foraging, Dr. Seuss, the Storey compilation on Country Living, books on how to set psychological boundaries, the Bible, Your Money or Your Life, and the first book I learned to read when I was Delaney's age.
We have crayons and special wooden colored pencils in a tin in the corner. My sewing notions basket is full to bursting with embroidery floss, pins, thread, needles, and crochet hooks and knitting needles. A cloth bag that our friend Pam made for Delaney's birthday last year holds single balls of yarn and yarn scraps. And I've got one project's worth of merino wool for a blanket. My guitar case could sit next to this tote. It carries my guitar, a chord dictionary, a lullaby songbook, and two harmonicas.
Packing this tote, I remembered again why I am doing this. We're in a hurry because of lack of funds. Sometimes I get caught up in the word "homeless." But the reason I'm choosing this option is because it is a chance for us to design a life for ourselves. We are already choosing which way it will go. We are saying: in this new life I'll need music that I make myself. I'll need tools, art supplies, and things that feel good to the touch. There will be reading. I will teach myself how to relate to others, how to make and spend money wisely, and how to listen to my spirit. I'll make enough time to hear rhythm and meter, appreciate the flavor of words.
In this life, I'll need my party dress and my cargo pants, but not my appliqued t-shirts. We will bring our softest pillows , our favorite ceramic mugs, and a flowering plant on this journey, because we deserve a home no matter where we park it.
For a long time I've been trying to whittle my life down to nothing, like an ultralight camper aiming for the lightest load. I'm glad for the reminder that luxury is actually a necessity. I look forward to learning how to open myself wide to pleasure and comfort in this journey of simplicity.
Here is what we've begun to map out. We will find a place to rough it for the whole of the growing season. By the end of October at the latest, we will have paid off our most recent housing debts, saved up enough to remain afloat, and found a new place to live, in an actual house. We will also have a stronger marriage and a better financial plan. That's not asking for much, is it?
Patrick has a concrete plan about how to get his license back and will be studying for his CDL so he can take a job with a local courier service. The owner of this company is even going to help him pay for attorney fees if needed, so the job is pretty secure. His hope is to have the job within six weeks. He will know soon what to expect in pay, but from what he's researched so far, it should be about 3-4 times what we're making right now.
***
I got some time to think today. I puttered around the house, packing boxes for storage, filling bags and bags for Goodwill. All of the journals Patrick and I have kept individually over the past 20 years fill one box. All our pictures fill another. I'm not sure if I'm surprised it's so much or so little.
I pared down our clothing so all of it will fit in one tote. Currently it is all hanging in the closet, looking very tidy and efficient. I began packing one very special tote. Lined up on the bottom, with their spines neatly in a row, are the books we will take with us to read. We have poetry, books on foraging, Dr. Seuss, the Storey compilation on Country Living, books on how to set psychological boundaries, the Bible, Your Money or Your Life, and the first book I learned to read when I was Delaney's age.
We have crayons and special wooden colored pencils in a tin in the corner. My sewing notions basket is full to bursting with embroidery floss, pins, thread, needles, and crochet hooks and knitting needles. A cloth bag that our friend Pam made for Delaney's birthday last year holds single balls of yarn and yarn scraps. And I've got one project's worth of merino wool for a blanket. My guitar case could sit next to this tote. It carries my guitar, a chord dictionary, a lullaby songbook, and two harmonicas.
Packing this tote, I remembered again why I am doing this. We're in a hurry because of lack of funds. Sometimes I get caught up in the word "homeless." But the reason I'm choosing this option is because it is a chance for us to design a life for ourselves. We are already choosing which way it will go. We are saying: in this new life I'll need music that I make myself. I'll need tools, art supplies, and things that feel good to the touch. There will be reading. I will teach myself how to relate to others, how to make and spend money wisely, and how to listen to my spirit. I'll make enough time to hear rhythm and meter, appreciate the flavor of words.
In this life, I'll need my party dress and my cargo pants, but not my appliqued t-shirts. We will bring our softest pillows , our favorite ceramic mugs, and a flowering plant on this journey, because we deserve a home no matter where we park it.
For a long time I've been trying to whittle my life down to nothing, like an ultralight camper aiming for the lightest load. I'm glad for the reminder that luxury is actually a necessity. I look forward to learning how to open myself wide to pleasure and comfort in this journey of simplicity.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Funeral for My Stuff
I can't sleep. I keep jolting awake, dumbfounded at what I'm attempting to do. I keep finding ways this is certain to fail. Then, in my sleep-fuddled brain, I'll find some way to fix the problem, go back to sleep, and forget whatever it was that was supposed to be a solution. And then I wake up.
I'm listening to the comforting hum of the washer, and it just hits me: we are so used to all of this. What can we possibly be thinking? No running water? Really? And what about poopy blow-outs? What about drinking water? Ruby loves bathing. All of us do. Are we really possibly going without a bathtub? I don't have a solid plan for this yet, only ideas. I'm actually going to have to figure this out as I go along. Isnt' that the number one reason for homesteading failure? I simply don't have enough time to do this right.
We've spent the day going through our things, getting rid of so much. It felt liberating in the light of day. Now it feels like I've decided to amputate something.
I have a clear picture in my mind of a basket. I've used it all season to gather mulberries. It was the Basket my mother in-law bought for Ruby before she was born, her Easter basket. Some horrid bottom-feeder stole it from my garage sale today, along with four other baskets. These are Longaberger baskets and are collector's items worth a lot of money. I thought, maybe, it would be worth it to sell some of them to fund this. Now I can't get over the feeling that someone just walked into my house and raped me of these things I loved. And I can't do a thing about it. There is no place for this silly grief and rage.
Some things I hate and I couldn't be happier about finally shaking them off. The TV, the answering machine, the 30,000 toys, the bags and bags of clothing, sheets, and other laundry we are getting rid of forever! Good riddance. But some things we must part with because they simply aren't practical to take with us or store. And I'm sad. I'm actually sad about my stuff.
There is a story about a monk who, upon seeing someone drinking water from their cupped hands, gave away his only possession: a bowl, knowing his hands could do the job this thing had done before. I keep coming back to that as a point of reference. Don't we have everything we need already?
And then I come crashing back in the other direction. We've been selling our stuff, but we've also been spending like fiends. Taco Bell twice this week, pizza. I bought a dress yesterday that serves no other purpose than making me feel pretty. I look really, really pretty in it, and it seemed like it might even change my life.
This brings us to the "morale" section of James's list. If we go too far into deprivation, we're going to screw everything up by overindulging when we get the chance. We've spent about $10 on food in the past 3 weeks. Our fridge isn't empty, but we did eat just beans for a few meals, and ended up skipping quite a few meals because I was too hungry and tired to think about what to make. We got a paycheck and went straight for the nearest fast-food joint. We're hungry! Let us eat cake!
The last time I went camping, I ended up driving down to civilization every day for ice cream and air-conditioning. We ended the trip two days early so I could sleep in a bed. I was 6 mos pregnant with Delaney, but still. I just wanted to feel a hot shower and some clean sheets. Hell, I know James has done something similar, and he's much more hardcore than I am.
We're selling everything and moving to a tent on a farm. What's going to happen when it gets too hard? We don't have enough time to prepare. How can I learn everything I'll need to know to be as self-sufficient as we need in two weeks? We're going to have to make certain to put "morale" high on the list. Maybe first. (It was number 3, behind waste/bathroom and water on the list I made yesterday). Self-denial and forced deprivation might have much more of a role in our financial troubles than I ever imagined. We need to budget our comforts so that we don't become so crazed with wanting that we throw all our money at finding relief.
And since I can't go into this adventure with all the knowledge I need, I'll have to break things down into small goals. Find out what is most important, and find several ways of getting it. Then, find out what each of those ways cost. Laundry options: boiling water/mild soap. My shower/washtub idea. A laundromat. Etc.
We simply must do this, and we are doing it. Somehow, by the grace of God, we'll learn what we need to know. I've spiraled into myself so that I could start taking responsibility for my own choices and fix my own mistakes. It is time to come back out into the shelter of community a bit. Because no matter how much I want to be able to do things on my own, it is impossible. I really need other people. More than my stuff, more than knowledge. If I am going to succeed, it will be because I have support. I know that I do. I've spent the last two years building community. Its time I reached out and asked for help.
This won't be a neat exchange of services. It won't be something we can plan out exactly. I'm going to fail in a lot of ways, and whichever family ends up hosting us is going to be making an investment in my family's future. I will learn what I need to know, and I will go on to make the world more sustainable and beautiful. But I need to let go of the fiction that I'll just jump from here to there, all by myself. I'm letting go of my pride and surrendering to the process. God, hold me here. I'm trusting our lives to you.
I'm listening to the comforting hum of the washer, and it just hits me: we are so used to all of this. What can we possibly be thinking? No running water? Really? And what about poopy blow-outs? What about drinking water? Ruby loves bathing. All of us do. Are we really possibly going without a bathtub? I don't have a solid plan for this yet, only ideas. I'm actually going to have to figure this out as I go along. Isnt' that the number one reason for homesteading failure? I simply don't have enough time to do this right.
We've spent the day going through our things, getting rid of so much. It felt liberating in the light of day. Now it feels like I've decided to amputate something.
I have a clear picture in my mind of a basket. I've used it all season to gather mulberries. It was the Basket my mother in-law bought for Ruby before she was born, her Easter basket. Some horrid bottom-feeder stole it from my garage sale today, along with four other baskets. These are Longaberger baskets and are collector's items worth a lot of money. I thought, maybe, it would be worth it to sell some of them to fund this. Now I can't get over the feeling that someone just walked into my house and raped me of these things I loved. And I can't do a thing about it. There is no place for this silly grief and rage.
Some things I hate and I couldn't be happier about finally shaking them off. The TV, the answering machine, the 30,000 toys, the bags and bags of clothing, sheets, and other laundry we are getting rid of forever! Good riddance. But some things we must part with because they simply aren't practical to take with us or store. And I'm sad. I'm actually sad about my stuff.
There is a story about a monk who, upon seeing someone drinking water from their cupped hands, gave away his only possession: a bowl, knowing his hands could do the job this thing had done before. I keep coming back to that as a point of reference. Don't we have everything we need already?
And then I come crashing back in the other direction. We've been selling our stuff, but we've also been spending like fiends. Taco Bell twice this week, pizza. I bought a dress yesterday that serves no other purpose than making me feel pretty. I look really, really pretty in it, and it seemed like it might even change my life.
This brings us to the "morale" section of James's list. If we go too far into deprivation, we're going to screw everything up by overindulging when we get the chance. We've spent about $10 on food in the past 3 weeks. Our fridge isn't empty, but we did eat just beans for a few meals, and ended up skipping quite a few meals because I was too hungry and tired to think about what to make. We got a paycheck and went straight for the nearest fast-food joint. We're hungry! Let us eat cake!
The last time I went camping, I ended up driving down to civilization every day for ice cream and air-conditioning. We ended the trip two days early so I could sleep in a bed. I was 6 mos pregnant with Delaney, but still. I just wanted to feel a hot shower and some clean sheets. Hell, I know James has done something similar, and he's much more hardcore than I am.
We're selling everything and moving to a tent on a farm. What's going to happen when it gets too hard? We don't have enough time to prepare. How can I learn everything I'll need to know to be as self-sufficient as we need in two weeks? We're going to have to make certain to put "morale" high on the list. Maybe first. (It was number 3, behind waste/bathroom and water on the list I made yesterday). Self-denial and forced deprivation might have much more of a role in our financial troubles than I ever imagined. We need to budget our comforts so that we don't become so crazed with wanting that we throw all our money at finding relief.
And since I can't go into this adventure with all the knowledge I need, I'll have to break things down into small goals. Find out what is most important, and find several ways of getting it. Then, find out what each of those ways cost. Laundry options: boiling water/mild soap. My shower/washtub idea. A laundromat. Etc.
We simply must do this, and we are doing it. Somehow, by the grace of God, we'll learn what we need to know. I've spiraled into myself so that I could start taking responsibility for my own choices and fix my own mistakes. It is time to come back out into the shelter of community a bit. Because no matter how much I want to be able to do things on my own, it is impossible. I really need other people. More than my stuff, more than knowledge. If I am going to succeed, it will be because I have support. I know that I do. I've spent the last two years building community. Its time I reached out and asked for help.
This won't be a neat exchange of services. It won't be something we can plan out exactly. I'm going to fail in a lot of ways, and whichever family ends up hosting us is going to be making an investment in my family's future. I will learn what I need to know, and I will go on to make the world more sustainable and beautiful. But I need to let go of the fiction that I'll just jump from here to there, all by myself. I'm letting go of my pride and surrendering to the process. God, hold me here. I'm trusting our lives to you.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
More on Supplies
My dear friend James (and the other head of the best two-headed bushcrafter in indy) sent me this great email today. I like the second part about putting things in categories and making sure your priorities are correct. If I follow this, I should be ok.
I'm usually one to jump into things with both feet, and this makes me excellent at effecting change. But I'm learning that there are some things that aren't easily changed later and some things that aren't worth losing. I really want to address as many possible pitfalls and trouble areas as I can now, so I don't end up paying for it later.
I need one part "I'm made of magic" and two parts "a stitch in time saves nine".
I'm usually one to jump into things with both feet, and this makes me excellent at effecting change. But I'm learning that there are some things that aren't easily changed later and some things that aren't worth losing. I really want to address as many possible pitfalls and trouble areas as I can now, so I don't end up paying for it later.
I need one part "I'm made of magic" and two parts "a stitch in time saves nine".
James says:
You need:
Some sort of protection from rabid/dangerous animals….pepper spray and a big stick/baseball bat would be my advice.
Way to purify and filter water (for $65 you can get a pump filter that will clean 200 gallons of water before needing a new insert ($30 per insert))
Way to wash clothes
Frisbee and other recreation stuff
100ft - 200ft of paracord ($8-15) (minimum)
Hangable pots (or regular pots with holes drilled in them and coat hangers attached) - in case your propane runs out or you want to do a stew and not waste your fuel
Basic tools (crowbar, axe, hatchet, saw, hammer, shovel, nails, wire)
Knowledge of making cordage
Solar oven (you can make a cheap one for $20 or buy a nice one for $100 - $300)
Filet knife ($15)
Bushcraft knife ($15)
Lawn chairs
Trash bags (for trash)
Ziploc bags (for keeping things dry)
You can never have enough wool blankets…look for WWII surplus…cheap, durable, and available….downside is they smell of mothballs and they're "itchy." Mothball smell goes away.
Lots and lots of dry bags to keep clothes dry and off the ground
Sharpening stone
Serious first aid kit
Natural or chemical bug repellent
More mattresses to get you up off the ground
You might try this…..5 things to concern yourself with:
1) Shelter
2) Water
3) Food
4) Safety/Survival
5) Morale
Everything fits into one of those categories….take some time and make lists of which things fit where (right away, you'll find that some things fit more than one)….look for ways to make MOST things fit more than one (that gives you backup plans). If something only fits one, you have to ask yourself if it's really necessary. Some things will be, some won't. If you have one list that's really small, you have to ask yourself if you have enough.
No wonder I love James. He's like the Alton Brown of bushcraft. :) No unitaskers!
AND…you need to do all of this planning 2 seasons out. So look at what you have now and ask youself….would this stuff work in Winter? If not, start working on Winter now.
Ugh.
Day 3
What an exhausting day. As usual, I am being taken to my limits, and I am growing. It's really hard.
Patrick and I have hammered through some bitterness and fear and are connecting again. I am deeply relieved and even feel some peace. I am happy to be able to hold him again. I have missed him so much.
I solicited a farm today to see if they would be interested in hosting us for a work-exchange. I am very excited about the prospect, since they seem like really cool people who share a lot of my interests. I met one of the women from the farm last year, and she had her baby in a beautiful sling. Her husband graduated from Purdue with a degree in some kind of architectural design and now designs sustainable architecture! I think they're putting up a straw-bale structure!
I mean, come on, how much more perfect could they be? I also love the idea of the kids living on a farm. I'm worried about them in this transition, and if they can have something as reassuring and wonderful as regular farm work in their lives, they will bloom. We all will.
It was really hard to send the email. I feel like I've been working up to this kind of thing for weeks, building the trade sector of my business through email solicitation. It is hard to put myself out there for rejection so regularly, and in something that means so much to me and my livelihood. But I know that both of these things (my business and my life adventure) are meant to succeed, and the only way I'm going to do it is by perseverance. I'm growing some balls. I just might need someone to cry on from time to time. Rejection is hard.
Now that Patrick isn't so much in Depression Sleep Mode, we're working as a team to get the house ready to move. We've got lists going and a plan in motion. Tomorrow we get everything cleaned, sorted, and labeled for sale. We also plan on mowing the lawn, gathering supplies for the sale and house cleaning, and making a list of food/meals for when we get to our destination.
We went to Whole Foods today and spent an exorbitant amount of money on a snack. It was wonderful. I had sushi with all the delicious garnishes and my favorite ginger beer and the kids had bulk yogurt pretzels and creamy sandwich cookies. We sat outside and ate them in the lingering dusk. Life was really good for a moment.
I'm not quite so afraid today as I have been. We spent the morning fishing with Patrick's grandparents. I have a searingly beautiful mental picture of my whole family fishing contentedly before the backdrop of a cerulean sky, haughty clouds, and the promise of trees. I sat and stared at the water while Ruby nursed. My hands were busy making her a crown of pink flowers. I thought, This is the life I can create for us. I must keep on.
Patrick and I have hammered through some bitterness and fear and are connecting again. I am deeply relieved and even feel some peace. I am happy to be able to hold him again. I have missed him so much.
I solicited a farm today to see if they would be interested in hosting us for a work-exchange. I am very excited about the prospect, since they seem like really cool people who share a lot of my interests. I met one of the women from the farm last year, and she had her baby in a beautiful sling. Her husband graduated from Purdue with a degree in some kind of architectural design and now designs sustainable architecture! I think they're putting up a straw-bale structure!
I mean, come on, how much more perfect could they be? I also love the idea of the kids living on a farm. I'm worried about them in this transition, and if they can have something as reassuring and wonderful as regular farm work in their lives, they will bloom. We all will.
It was really hard to send the email. I feel like I've been working up to this kind of thing for weeks, building the trade sector of my business through email solicitation. It is hard to put myself out there for rejection so regularly, and in something that means so much to me and my livelihood. But I know that both of these things (my business and my life adventure) are meant to succeed, and the only way I'm going to do it is by perseverance. I'm growing some balls. I just might need someone to cry on from time to time. Rejection is hard.
Now that Patrick isn't so much in Depression Sleep Mode, we're working as a team to get the house ready to move. We've got lists going and a plan in motion. Tomorrow we get everything cleaned, sorted, and labeled for sale. We also plan on mowing the lawn, gathering supplies for the sale and house cleaning, and making a list of food/meals for when we get to our destination.
We went to Whole Foods today and spent an exorbitant amount of money on a snack. It was wonderful. I had sushi with all the delicious garnishes and my favorite ginger beer and the kids had bulk yogurt pretzels and creamy sandwich cookies. We sat outside and ate them in the lingering dusk. Life was really good for a moment.
I'm not quite so afraid today as I have been. We spent the morning fishing with Patrick's grandparents. I have a searingly beautiful mental picture of my whole family fishing contentedly before the backdrop of a cerulean sky, haughty clouds, and the promise of trees. I sat and stared at the water while Ruby nursed. My hands were busy making her a crown of pink flowers. I thought, This is the life I can create for us. I must keep on.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Putting it in Motion
Yesterday we made the final decisions. We called the landlady and told her our final decision (and what else would there be? We make only a little more money in a month than what she charges us for rent, and we're behind. We would have never caught up). She gave us two weeks to be out of the house.
I sold our swing set. I put several other things up for sale on the internet, including my cherished guitar. I can buy a cheap, used one. I sold the kids cherished swing set, I get to take my turn. I placed an ad for a moving sale. I started the inventory and the research.
Today I went and picked up the bulk of our survival equipment. It cost almost what we got for the swing set (which was almost two hundred, thank you Mary!). We now have:
*A "very large tent" (not sure of specifics)
*A "small tent"
*a canopy tent
*a full size? air mattress and pump
*a two-gallon water container, plus three half-gallon containers
*two propane stoves
*5 fishing poles
We also have:
*several wild food guides/survival guides
*cast-iron skillet
*indian woks/bowls
*two camping mess kits
*3-4 pocket knives
*about 20ft of rope, total
*3 large plastic tubs to be used for storage, washing, etc, with lids
*a harmonica, kid bongoes
*lighters
*small amount of firewood
*stovetop popcorn popper
*a yoga mat
*lawn/camping chairs
*plastic shelf
*wooden shelf
*containers for food
*clothesline/pins
*clothes racks
*one woolen navajo blanket
*comforters/quilts
*hatchet, shovel, rake, spades
*basic tools
*trash bags, ziploc bags
*serious first aid kit
*more air mattresses/cots
*crowbar
*big saw (chainsaw? yikes)
*pepper spray and a big baseball bat
What do we need?
*rocket stove
*solar appliance charger/ starter kit
*dutch oven? have stock pot.
*knowledge of how to build compost toilet
*solar shower
*filet knife
*bushcraft knife
*sharpening stone
*tarps
*boots
*wool blankets
*insect management: nets/repellent
*straw hats
*whittling knife
What else do we need?
I'll keep editing this as we think of and obtain things.
I sold our swing set. I put several other things up for sale on the internet, including my cherished guitar. I can buy a cheap, used one. I sold the kids cherished swing set, I get to take my turn. I placed an ad for a moving sale. I started the inventory and the research.
Today I went and picked up the bulk of our survival equipment. It cost almost what we got for the swing set (which was almost two hundred, thank you Mary!). We now have:
*A "very large tent" (not sure of specifics)
*A "small tent"
*a canopy tent
*a full size? air mattress and pump
*a two-gallon water container, plus three half-gallon containers
*two propane stoves
*5 fishing poles
We also have:
*several wild food guides/survival guides
*cast-iron skillet
*indian woks/bowls
*two camping mess kits
*3-4 pocket knives
*about 20ft of rope, total
*3 large plastic tubs to be used for storage, washing, etc, with lids
*a harmonica, kid bongoes
*lighters
*small amount of firewood
*stovetop popcorn popper
*a yoga mat
*lawn/camping chairs
*plastic shelf
*wooden shelf
*containers for food
*clothesline/pins
*clothes racks
*one woolen navajo blanket
*comforters/quilts
*hatchet, shovel, rake, spades
*basic tools
*trash bags, ziploc bags
*serious first aid kit
*more air mattresses/cots
*crowbar
*big saw (chainsaw? yikes)
*pepper spray and a big baseball bat
What do we need?
*rocket stove
*solar appliance charger/ starter kit
*dutch oven? have stock pot.
*knowledge of how to build compost toilet
*solar shower
*filet knife
*bushcraft knife
*sharpening stone
*tarps
*boots
*wool blankets
*insect management: nets/repellent
*straw hats
*whittling knife
What else do we need?
I'll keep editing this as we think of and obtain things.
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