DeeEl's Mo Chroí Scríofa

Loneliness Can Kill

The other day I published a post called Regrets.  I was hurting and didn’t know where to go or what to do.   I was making plans though.  I knew who would get what and made a list of letters to write to try to provide understanding.  Believing I cause only pain and suffering to all those I touch, I isolated myself more from those I care about in an attempt to shield them from me.

My background in psychology gave me the insight to see what was going on, however, I still felt powerless to the forces within.  A few of my on-line friends cornered me in an attempt to learn what was going on.  I talked a bit.  Then the next day still feeling very overwhelmed I was cornered by another on-line friend who isn’t as close to my inner-circle, and using MSN voice chat she read me the riot act and we talked more candidly.  I cried so much there wasn’t one dry spot on my handkerchief.  I told her that I believed the real issue to be my 16 month unemployment and diminished bank account compounded by a chronic illness.

After my four hour conversation with this person I ended up in a chat with one from my inner-circle.  Mostly superficial on my part, but I told her that I promised not to even talk about booking a one-way flight to Iraq for myself.  I then received an e-mail from a new friend that an old friend has been trying to introduce me to for nearly a year.  I set it up and we began to chat in MSN and the mutual friend began IMing me in YIM at the same time my cousin IMd me in Skype.  I was too focused on keeping my conversations straight to even acknowledge the overwhelming feelings within.

I spent a couple hours with a handful of my inner-circle last night in Second Life.  I stayed up a wee past my bedtime last night pondering things and for the first time in days I didn’t cry myself to sleep.  I am still unemployed.  My bank account is still empty.  I still have a chronic illness and I am still alone.  I woke up this morning considering everything.  I remember the other day feeling so bad I went on line and typed something (I can’t recall now what I typed) into a Google search.  The result was a website linked to the suicide hot-line.  I sat there and looked at the site and scrolled through.  It kept saying that if you were in immanent danger to call the number.  Being too cowardice I knew I wasn’t in that kind of danger and there are others more in need so I just looked at the screen.  Finally, I closed the browser and played backgammon against my computer.

I am not one to wear my heart on my sleeve and don’t go around telling everyone how sad I am.  This post and the last are exceedingly difficult.  However, I feel it needs to be said as I am sure there are others out there like me who may need encouragement or just validation that they are not alone.  What occurred to me this morning was how wrong I was in what I deduced yesterday.  The things that I thought were causing my issues were the aggravaters.   My real problem is loneliness.  It has been weeks since I have felt the human touch.  No hugs, no kisses, not even a handshake or the unintentional brushing up against someone not watching where they are walking in the market.  There is no one here for me to talk to when I am having a bad day or get stressed out because my balance is off.

Yes, there are those that would say right now, “Well, you could call me”.  I have called people or IMd them on-line with the intent of talking to them but I end up sitting and listening to them go on about their issues or they give me the feeling that they are too busy to take time for me.  I oblige and listen or let them go so they could continue with what they were doing.  Then I go off by myself.

The suicide rate increases during the winter months.  Holiday time it is the absence of loved ones who have passed away.  The cold weather sends us indoors where we are locked away from the rest of the world and when you live alone, that can be devastating.  It is this separation from other people that can drive someone, even someone with intelligence and education, to consider ridding the world of their life.

I have not just been considering my own situation, I have been trying to see the other side as well.  I am an isolationist, I try to cope by shutting myself off from everyone as I feel they do not need to be bothered with my issues.  I know this is wrong, but it is all I know.  So what should the ones who care about you do?  How can they know when you aren’t one to broadcast (how I envy those people who can make things known)?  A lot of times people get so busy with their own lives and their inner-circle that they forget about others they know who may be lonely.  Those who know me, know I am unemployed and that I have a chronic illness that prevents me from doing a lot of things.  There are times that I would love to take a walk in the park and make mention of it, but there is no one there to go with me, so I can’t go.

If you know someone who is pretty much cut off, then give them a call or drop them an e-mail.  Stop by and not just because you are in the neighborhood.  It will make a big impact if you go out of your way because you want to see them.  Let them know you want to spend time with them just talking, not about their situation, but as a friend the way you have done many times in the past.  Offer to go for a walk with them.  Just reach out and touch someone don’t just think about them and later when you happen to see them or talk to them tell them you think about them and pray for them all the time.   Those are nice words, but they don’t help to heal the real problem ~ Loneliness.  You don’t need to ask them what you can do for them, they probably won’t tell you.   But just be a friend and give them the one thing they crave more than anything in the world, your time and you.

Getting A Job In A Recession = FRUSTRATION

Being out of work for nearly 15 months has given me pause to consider many things.  To start, I hit the rewind button and go back to September ‘08.  The boss came in and let me know what he would be telling all the other employees two hours later (a meeting I couldn’t attend do to a doctor’s appointment).  He began by sitting down and pulling his chair over and said that the decision was made to run the station with only two employees.  He was not one of the employees who would be remaining either.  This was devastating.  I went to keep my appointment and then stopped at the package store on the way home.  I sent e-mails to those I had obligations to that weekend (it was a Friday) to advise I would NOT be in any condition to honor those obligations that weekend.  I then proceeded to plunge into the bottles of tequila, rum and Kahlua I brought home with me.  I remained in a state of shock thinking it was just a dream.  Even after October 31st (the last day of work for all of us) came and went, I was numb with shock (no I did not finish all of the contents of my bottles that weekend, nor did I imbibe continuously).

I finally began looking at things with open eyes (after using my already soaked handkerchief to dry my eyes).  I knew that due to my health I would not be able to get another regular job until I could regain more of my stamina lost from my chronic illness.  I also watched the unemployment numbers soar both locally as well as nationally.  To say I was scared is an understatement.  I had already considered the possibility of my needing to do freelance writing as my physical condition worsened.  But I never anticipated being thrown into it.  I mustered every ounce of focus I could to put things together.  I began by making the decision to start my own business and become a freelance writer.  I then set about reading and studying and putting money into the things I would need to help me along the way.  I even went to a writer’s conference in New York City (Oy vey, what a trip).  Some writer friends shared links to sites where they bid for jobs.

I took an online career test to help me figure out my direction.  The test determined I should be a writer or work in a museum.  I thought, why not put them together and write about museums and historical events.  I laid it all out in my head and then on paper.  I knew the types of magazines and publications I could submit to.  I bought a small camera outfit to add photos to my work for better sales opportunities.  With the help of a friend (the best graphic designer any where.  Just check out my website and other blogs to see her work) I set up my website to begin “pimping” myself out.   I was going in the right direction.  Then I came to a screeching halt.  I realized that I didn’t have a clue about how to get to that place I wanted to be.  I attempted to ask those who have been in the business on a large scale for a long time and was pretty much shut out.  Two even said they would help me and make an appointment with me to just sit down and talk and then they avoided me like the plague.  I guess they saw that I have the talent and they felt I wanted to take over their jobs and clients.  Oh well.

As time has worn on in my endeavors I have grown more and more discouraged.  It doesn’t help when I see those I know with jobs and making an income complain how much they hate their jobs.  I would love to trade with them.  It seems that those who complain about their jobs get all kinds of sympathy from everyone else (I am speaking of status updates on various social networks).  However, when I have made comments voicing my frustration and discouragement from being unemployed and the lack of prospects, I get met with short, bitter statements like “move” or “get over it princess”.   Then there are those who pose questions and when I answer them in a realistic manner (not saying I am giving up totally) they make it sound like I am saying I am doomed and will find nothing.  It seems all of the advise and “encouragement” is coming from those who have at least one household income, their health and continual moral support and encouragement.

Doors get closed (some in your face).  Opportunities fizzle.  Unemployment funds run out.  Bank accounts dry up.  Desperation sets in.  Some folks turn to robbing and conning to get money to pay their bills and put food on the table.  Others take what little money they have and “invest” it in the lottery.  I have been tempted at both of these.  Especially seeing the billboard which brags that the Power Ball is up to $30 Million for the week.    The former, I blew off steam by IMing a friend that I am considering white-collar crime.  Then I can be sent to prison and have my needs taken care of and just spend my days writing.  I even jokingly posted a status update asking if someone could teach me how to get rid of my conscience so I could indulge in criminal behavior since it pays better than being out of work.  I can understand why people turn to this kind of behavior, but I don’t condone it.

The only thing worse than trying to find work during a recession would be to try to find work during a depression.  That is economical or emotional.  So what is one to do in this situation?  There are the optimists who would say to make some lemonade out of these lemons.  Then the pessimists who would tell us to just stay in bed it will never work out anyway.  Cynics?  nothing matters anyway, so why bother.  Nothing I have covered is news.  Well, perhaps you didn’t know about my weekend binge.  I am venting my own frustrations of not being able to get a viable job in the middle of a recession.  Yes, I said middle of.  I know the President and all his mouth pieces have said the recession is ending, but when you have no job and none in sight it is like trying to see the end of your car while driving in the middle of a fog in East Tennessee.  You can’t see that far.

Learning The Heart

I started writing more than 30 years ago when I was in the 7th grade in junior high.  I wrote a blog post a while back about how I got my start writing and being able to communicate my heart to others through poetry.  I had been writing for nearly five years when I graduated from high school.  Each year at the time of graduations our congregation would honor the graduates during a service and then present them with a gift, usually a book to offer guidance as they set out on a new and wonderful adventure.  On June 5, 1983 I was one of six in the congregation graduating.  We were presented a book of poetry and verse.  I was told that when they were deciding what to present, I was the one who came to mind.  They chose that particular book because I have a way of “reading between the lines”.  I was a stupid 17 year old kid and, while I felt honored, I didn’t have the slightest idea what was meant by these words.

It wasn’t till more than twenty years later that I would be able to really feel the honor that was bestowed that day.  I had heard the term reading between the lines before, but I don’t think I actually understood it to its fullest meaning.  I have never set out to be special or try to do things that are different from everyone else.   I think it is just that I see things from my hearts point of view and thus find different meanings in the way things are spoken and written.  After my book was released, I had a friend come to my house and ask me to sign a few copies so she and her mama could give them as gifts.  I sat looking at her and the books pondering what to write.  They wanted me to address them to certain people, write something and then sign the book.  I didn’t want to be like everyone else.  I have received autographed books and had a few signed personally as well.  I either get just a signature or “Best wishes” and a signature.  Then my mind went back to the person who told me I have a way of reading between the lines.  I had my autograph.

It made sense to me to do it this way.  There is so much to be learned when you go outside the box or in this case read between the lines.  So often we go through the motions of everything we do.  Our lives are so routine that we can drive our cars from point A to point B and sometimes wonder what happened in between.  We read the paper (or the on-line news) and it is all the same unless something really juts out and is different.  Try taking a breath and look at things from a different point of view.  Go outside the box, read between the lines and there you will find pleasure.

FIND PLEASURE BETWEEN THE LINES!!

My Heart

My Heart

I sit here
all alone
within the sanctum
I call my soul
It is here,
among the memories,
I sit…
I watch…
I ponder on.
To the painful thoughts
I bid farewell
the nightmares
they vanish
as misty, moonlit dew.
Scars, which seem
centuries old,
blur and fade
into the seams
of the fortress strong.

Subsumed by darkness
trying to find
memories past,
thoughts fleeting through;
pleasant,
sweet,
pretty, genteel
Did they ever exist?
Have I known them at all?
Searching the boundaries
seeking the words
receiving a hollow knell.

The acropolis is strong, READ MORE

So Sorry

I must apologize for the lack of activity on my blog.  I have been having some computer issues which have prevented my posting.  I am returned now and will resume my posts henceforth.

Getting Inside

As long as I can remember, I have loved to do research. In my college psych classes, having the same prof was at times an advantage. He asked the same question in each of the classes “Who would rather write a 20 page research paper in lieu of taking an exam?” My hand was usually the first one up. My final class with this laid-back intelligent Jewish man was Adolescent Psychology which I took as an independent study. He looked at me during one of my orals with him and reminded me of this question in the other classes. He said that in all the years he had been teaching and of all the students he asked that question of, I was probably the only one who answered honestly. His reason for this question was in asking students who had test anxiety. Yes, I do.

To me, research is as natural as breathing. You don’t learn if you don’t seek and ask questions. Since being thrust into a life of freelance writing I have learned something new about myself and about research. Generally, I look at research as a way to learn about something that interests me. Now I see it as something so much deeper. When I wrote my book, Through God’s Mercy, I just sat and wrote. The research I conducted was first of all finding an empty spot in the ocean to place my island country. The rest of the research was using French/English, Spanish/English and Portuguese/English dictionaries to create some words for usage in this country. My newest book has taken me into the research of the history of Ireland as well as watching Irish movies and seeking out those who live in Ireland to get a better grasp on the verbiage and speech to use.

I still don’t consider this outrageous research. It isn’t even rating near the kind of research I may do to find out about doctors and lawyers I decide to hire. However, I have been doing some research lately that has taken me to a whole new level. I embedded so much of myself in TGM that at times when I read it I have to stop and shake myself off because I am so attached to the dept of it. I am currently working on some research that has given me the same feel. I love history and museums. I determined that as a freelance writer I would write about museums and historical events. Now the fun begins.

I wasn’t interested in writing the usual things that the whole world already knows. I wanted to find the hidden treasures. The little nuances that are not widely known. I knew that The Crockett Tavern Museum would be my first. I used to live just a couple miles from this museum and had visited there before. Then in July just past, I learned a hidden gem about Mr. Crockett and was given permission to use it and create from that. I knew I would be doing research, but I did not know then, how deep this would take me. I have begun to feel an almost intimate bond with an American legend that is bigger then the state he gave his life for. And yet, I know that even as I read his words and examine his prized rifle, I am hardly scratching the surface of who he really was. But this research has shown me that until I get inside the heart, mind and very essence of the one I am researching (much like I got into the minds of the adolescents I used to counsel) my research will be utterly incomplete. If the research is incomplete, the story cannot be told in a satiating manner to fully fill those who read.

Ratings Push Or Slap In the Face

Upon rising in the mornings I generally turn no the news (CBS), turn on my computer and then fetch the newspaper from the front deck.  After getting dressed and finding breakfast I retire to the couch to read the paper, watch the news and eat breakfast before I begin writing for the morning.  Yes, I am creature of habit, but then again, so are most people.  Last Friday, CBS Morning Show started a series called Dave Price, No Way Home.  I thought this would be in interesting stunt to boost ratings and could quite possibly produce some humor for me to begin my day with.

Apparently they were dropping Mr. Price off on the west coast and he was to make his way east and return home in a week.  He was only to have $50 and could not use any credit cards nor accept large gifts such as airline tickets home or hotel accommodations.  He was to “work” his way home.  When this began I thought it would be intriguing to see what kinds of odd jobs he would do to earn some cash and help him get back to NYC.  As of Tuesday morning all was going well and seemed to be educational as well.

This morning I turned the news on and as I ate breakfast I watched the next chapter in Mr. Price’s trek home.  However, the more the segments ran, the angrier I found myself.  Yes, it was fascinating that he spent the night in a frat house and earned $20 for cleaning the bathroom.  However, the job he is doing right now making $12 an hour made me sick.  I am one of thousands who lost my regular $10 an hour job when the recession was hitting a year ago.  I am still out of work and opting instead to be a freelance writer.  There are so many people who would have gone to companies such as Omaha Steaks (where Mr. Price is working this morning) and applied for jobs.   These people are turned down because of the lack of funding to be able to pay them.  In fact, many of them would probably be willing to work for minimum wage just to be able to have some kind of an income.

In an economic recession, I find it a slap in the face to the many unemployed folks like myself that CBS would televise how easy it is for one of their employees who already has a well paying job to be able to walk in and get a job in a company making an hourly wage that makes me and others like me drool with desire and longing to have any kind of a job.  What qualifies Mr. Price to work in a company such as Omaha Steaks besides his celebrity status and wanting to boost his networks ratings irregardless of what it might do to the mindset of those who would watch and thereby boost those ratings?

Irresponsibility in boosting ratings.  It is possible to help those who are unemployed due to the recession while boosting ratings and in fact, may boost those network ratings even more.  If Mr. Price must obtain jobs in nationally know companies or major organizations or any kind, then use it to benefit those who could use the boost to their economy.  If these places are willing to hire a man who has no qualifications, besides celebrity, for a few hours to get national recognition for their company, let them go a step further and use it to find qualified workers to hire on a permanent basis to further ensure the longevity of the company.

Take odd jobs if you will, like cleaning bathrooms in a frat house, but if you choose to work in a major company, help fill that kind of a job with someone who truly needs and deserves it.  As for Omaha Steaks, I have ordered from them in the past.  However, I am very reluctant to order from them unless they use this opportunity to help those who want and need jobs to obtain jobs in their company.  Being a celebrity making a great salary and then throwing it in the faces of those who helped make you a celebrity by frivolously getting jobs they would love to have just to work for an hour or two is, in my opinion, just plain wrong.

Only From My Heart

Since I was 13 years old and sitting in my Seventh grade English class learning the art of poetry, I have been writing it. I was painfully shy in junior high and found it difficult to say what I wanted to say. When Mr. Leggore led us through the poetry course I found the way to express my heart. Since then I have written what is in my heart. Whether it be poetry, song, essay, short story, article or novel; my heart (and the tornadoes that control my pen) dictates what goes on the empty page.

I quit writing in July of this year. Too many things were happening and I couldn’t keep with it all. Being without a job and not being able to find anything in the writing field. My health and dealing with the residual effects of Meniere’s Disease. People being more critical of my work than requested (i.e.: telling me my book is technically not published due to the publisher). Just too many things pressing on me that I quit. However, John Lennon would not allow it to remain so. I was having sleepless nights and nights of tossing and turning due to dreams that occupied my sleep and waking hours. Then the end of July I read a quote by John Lennon and he related about song writing and I equated it to my writing. He said it’s not a song til it invades even your sleeping dreams and keeps you awake. Then you know it has a life.

Well, Mr. Lennon was actually briefer in his quote, but that is what I got from it and started paying attention to what was going on. I told my friends about this and they wagged their fingers at me and said “Told you so!!” I am meant to write. It fills my being from my heart and soul outward. It encompasses me. Writing is the breath in my lungs, the blood in my veins ~ Writing IS who I am.