My Life Preserver: Headquarters Crisis Center

I am mad, hopping mad, so mad I came home from cleaning all day, and cleaned some more. So, there you go.

I am mad because a local jewel, Headquarters Crisis Center will see a big reduction in support from KU, if the finance committee of Student Senate has their way.

I became familiar with Headquarters when my family needed life support. I didn't know I needed their support; I was in a fog, in shock, wandering through my days after my husband, Gordon took his life on May 4, 2004.

His suicide was a front page story and was on television and radio. I'm still pissed about this because it hit the news before I even told both of our kids. But, something 'good' came from this exposure: it connected me with Headquarters.

I received a letter from Marcia Epstein about one week after Gordon died. Marcia has been the director of Headquarters for a long, long time. She read in the paper about his suicide and wanted to reach out to me and the kids. I am grateful that this exposure connected us to Marcia and Headquarters.

Marcia told me about a support group at Headquarters for those who had lost a loved one to suicide. She offered her time and support. I count this letter from Marcia as one of my most important papers. She basically threw me a life preserver when I was drowning in grief.

I am not sure how many times I have attended this support group at Headquarters since receiving that letter nearly 7 years ago. But, what I do know, is that every, single time I go, I am welcomed, hugged and HEARD. I am able to share and support others who have recently lost a loved one to suicide.

Headquarters' phone number (785-841-2345) is one I remember and recite to others who are especially vulnerable and would benefit from their services. I have shared it with law students when I worked at the KU School of Law; I have shared it with tutors I supervised when I directed a tutoring center; I have shared it with clients when I was completing my first practicum.... I have shared it with alot of people because sometimes, people need access to a life preserver when they are sinking fast.

I wrote to my student senator and told her how important Headquarters is for my family. I don't know what else to do! This place, with the fluffy pillows and kleenex boxes and colorful paintings and warm hugs SAVED ME. It is THAT important.

I pray that others will join me in throwing Headquarters now a life preserver! We cannot let anything happen to this VITAL service, which has undoubtedly saved many many KU students, faculty and staff!

Join me in supporting Headquarters Crisis Center! It saved me! Now, let's save Headquarters!

L is for Love

Lovely day so far. I met my friend, L for breakfast. We have been friends since we were 12 years old. When you are friends with someone that long, it's hard to hide one's crap. She can smell my crap, a mile a way, so to speak. Nice to be with someone who can do that, you know? And, nice not to feel like I have to hide my crap, again, so to speak.

We caught up on one another's trials of raising teenagers, caring for aging parents, and exploring our life journeys of trying to figure out what the heck we are doing as we stare at the big old '5 - 0' in a few years.
And, we figured out two very important things this morning over syrupy waffles and good oj:

Justice is in short supply. And, because we grew up in inner city Topeka, with poverty in and around us, we 'get it'. I shared with L about a recent conversation with someone, in the helping profession no less, who explained that if someone were to find themselves homeless, well, then, maybe that is where they belonged.....

Screw that.

No, let me say that again: SCREW THAT. But, thank goodness for this person making this statement to me. It reminds me of why I love what I am studying to do and trying to do, a day at a time.

Went on over to Goodwill Stores, Inc. Listened to Goodwill Stores Radio, that was playing on the speakers. Glanced at the slick brochures positioned at the register while I perused the shelves and shelves of coffee cups. Coffee cups with logos from banks, churches, civic groups, hotels. And then, I looked at the people shopping in Goodwill: a young woman with her toddler, looking through racks and racks of overpriced used clothes. A man trying to find a good pair of crutches. In the background, shelves and shelves of .99 coffee cups. Hmmmm.. a disconnect here somewhere.

What the hell?

I remember a few years ago when I was in the midst of rummage sale hell, where I would organize a huge rummage sale once a year for the nonprofit I directed. We would get boxes and boxes and boxes of coffee cups. My god. And, when the sale would be over, and once the last shoppers would shuffle out the door, and we'd box up the REAL crap that was left, there those coffee cups would be, waiting to be boxed up, again, and hauled to Goodwill.

The last year that I worked there, I couldn't take it. So, one of the volunteers and I collected all of the glassware that was left that had no real value (read: coffee cups) and took them to be recycled. It was a gratifying experience, smashing coffee cups in the huge bin at the recycling center.

I was thinking about how the coffee cups at Goodwill that are marked .99 will sit there for years. I know this because I like to go to Goodwill and look at stuff. But, they won't leave those shelves, and that Goodwill radio will continue to blare.

Goodwill radio? What the hell? Why not grab one of the albums that has been donated and play that on a turntable? Much more interesting. I will say that Goodwill Radio DID play 'Working on the Chain Gang' by Sam Cooke. And, the mom looking at clothes whistled, and some chick looking at t-shirts and I hummed along with Sam.

I don't know where I am going with this, except to say that if I follow my gut instinct, then I know that I belong in places like the Central Park area of Topeka, or, the Lawrence Open Shelter, or, Just Food, here in Lawrence, or Headquarters.

Oh, and the second thing we decided:

Anthony Bourdain is a particularly attractive, delightful, yummy kind o' man. And, L. made me snort I laughed so hard describing Anthony Bourdain eating a roasted anus or something of that sort in Namibia.



Thank you, L. for reminding me where I belong.

Mary Kay, Meet Rose's 'Stache

Mary Kay, meet Rose's 'stache. Rose's 'stache, meet Mary Kay.

It is a Saturday night, and for reasons I cannot get into, I was introduced to the memory of Mary Kay today. I have never known much about Mary Kay (the makeup icon). The friends I have who use Mary Kay make up, look great. Their skin is smooth, rosy, lovely. Their hands are smooth. Crow's feet? Forget about it. Eyes and lips and cheeks are very lucky body parts when one uses Mary Kay stuff.

And then there is me. Many moons ago, make up was important to me. I would never leave the house without having make up on. You would never catch me at Wal Mart, for example, buying toilet paper without lip color and maybe a smudge of blush. And then, the kids came....

It would not be unusual for me to shop at Wal Mart in my pajamas. It is all about time management: get the toilet paper and cat food, buy the glitter for the school project due tomorrow morning and get back home. That is/was the drill. If someone sees me without makeup, in my pajamas buying cat food and glitter at 12:30 a.m.? Well, that is their problem.

And here we are, two kids later. No more glitter to buy for school projects. I am working on my own school projects, and, hopefully no graduate course will expect a project that requires glitter or paint or play dough.

But, uh, what the heck? Make up? I don't even know if I would know for sure how to find the make up aisle at Walmart were I in need of buying new blush or whatever the heck! I wear make up when I have have lunch with friends, volunteer, meet with clients. I never wear make up when I am cleaning someone's dirty old house, and I clean a lot.

I know. It's kinda gross to be honest. It doesn't help that I am no longer married, and have no real, concrete interest in finding Mr. 'Right', right now. Maybe later. But, here I sit, a book on my coffee table, the face of Mary Kay staring at me from the book cover. She is sending me messages: "Rose, darlin, the brows, the 'stache, darlin, it's time, time to get things spruced up, baby..."

I have this fancy mirror I bought a while ago that lights up. Considering I am nearly blind (not really) and cannot see my face very well without glasses, I got this fancy shmancy mirror which magnifies a bunch and lights up to reveal every imperfection on one's face. Naturally, I never use it. But, I dusted it off and light it up. Oh. My. God.

I have a 'stache. I have bushy brows, Walter Cronkite-like. I am saggin and puffy and droopy here and there and everywhere. Oh, no amount of magic potion can fix this mess!

But I am not gonna fold. I raid my daughter's cache of makeup. I find 4 pairs of tweezers, of varying points. I find a kind of razor thing to trim runaway hairs. After about an hour of work, my bushy Cronkite brows have been replaced with a fairly uniform brow line, all just in time to reveal the puffy eye lids. But, that is another blog post.

And so, here I sit. Mary Kay staring at me, Oprah on the TV in the background, Cinnamon, the dog crashed next to me on the couch.

Maybe it IS time to care a little about how that mug looks? I dunno. I can't fix it all tonight, that is for damn sure. I wish I had one of those vacuum things you can buy to shrink a bag of sweaters so that they are as thin as a piece of beef jerky and stack neatly on a shelf.... I would like one of THOSE things, to suck out the fat and cynicism that have settled here and there...

But, Mary Kay says I don't need that. I just need some of her magic potion.

I can't afford it. Pricey. Suzie Orman orders me from the TV screen to "Live Below Your Means, People!" Ok! I heard you! My God,you have an annoying voice! I fell asleep the other night with the TV on and her commercials (The OWN network has like 3 commercials they play 24/7) was on, yelling at me, and making its way into bizarro dreams...

And so, compromise. Mary Kay, Suzie Orman, Dr. Oz, Laura Berman (the sex therapist) and Dr. Phil all weigh in on how to fix my sorry ass life....

And, guess what? I gotta half dozen potties for them to clean tomorrow, 'kay? Kay. Night nite.

Pick Myself Up and Move Forward

Such a sad week, this has been. The horrible events in Arizona, then the biting cold, then bidding my son farewell as he returns to school and then the news that one of his first buddies died by suicide has all left me a bit of a mess.

The last thing, the young man who died, has been the one that tipped me over. I have been a mess the last few days. But, seem to have picked myself up and am moving forward.

But, I'm the lucky one. I can pick myself up and move forward.

When Sam was set to leave the other day, I grabbed him and hugged him a little tighter this time. I didn't want to let go of him. I want him to find his own happiness and to experience his own stuff and fix his own problems and revel in fixing his own problems. It's the problems that have all the good 'stuff' that help us learn and grow and all that stuff.

And then I had to let him go to go and live his own life.

He spent the last four weeks merging back into life in our household. Within a few days of his arrival, he was a member of the clan, barking orders and being barked at like we all do. I loved having him home.

But, he confided that he didn't feel like he belonged as much anymore. I noticed that, here and there, him putting dishes away in the wrong places in the kitchen, sleeping on a lumpy couch upstairs in the loft area as his bedroom is long gone with our old house...

I noticed it, too, with his friends. He would call them up and they'd go out and play pool or drink a few beers here and there. But, I could tell that he was not feeling as comfortable here in Lawrence.

I remember that feeling, coming home to visit when I was in college. Things felt awkward. I was always glad to be home but always glad to.... get home.

And, then there is the sweet face, smiling out next to the black and white words of his obituary that I saw this week. My heart actually hurt for a minute. I knew that face. I remember that smile. I remember him driving, I remember him waving. I remember him! And, now he is gone. And, I don't know why.

I am reminded of how much we don't know, as I listen to the reports on tv weighing in as to why the tragedy in Arizona happened. Politics. Gun laws. Mental illness. Troubled families. Heck, even God was in there, too (thanks, Fred P!, asshole). Everyone wants to weigh in and answer the question, "why?"

Here is a news flash: there is no final answer. The answer is still yet to be revealed. It will come, in time, a layer at a time. We want an answer now, for sure, but, it doesn't work that way. It just doesn't.

I wanted to know why this young man died. But, I recognize that he must have had a tipping point of sorts, that there was one reason and there were also a million reasons. And then he was gone.

All I know, is that a mom in Lawrence aches for a son who is no longer there. And, I pray for her and pray for all of the families affected in Arizona. And, I pray for me, too. This thing called 'life', is so, so hard sometimes.

What I did/do Right

Ah, a new year. I sit among piles and piles, and more piles of laundry. It is very apparent that both kids are home! I am embarrassed to disclose the number of loads I have washed in the last 24 hours (read 12) and more to do. My daughter has been told, encouraged, threatened and asked to stop using a towel a day... I usually resort to:

"When I was your age, we used one towel a week, and, that was just fine for us!" and then I assume a posture of superiority, shoulders back, chin up, and walk off in a huff.

In one ear and out the other.

Georgia is not a rotten kid. She's a good kid, but, she's a kid. I can hear Dr. Phil about now, responding that that is no excuse, she needs to respect me, yada yada yada...

Yeah, I know. Respect. Do I pound it into them? That doesn't work. I need to find their 'currency' (another Dr. Phil word) and use that as a, er, bargaining tool. The cell phone.... ha ha ha.

We'll see how it goes.

So, 2011. What is in store for me? I guess I am in charge of determining that. Last year, at this time, I was at the mercy of outrageous mortgage payments and a smaller cleaning client base. I felt trapped. Today, I am not feeling trapped. I live in a place I can afford. I have an opportunity now that my job is over with to pick up some volunteer hours, and grow my little business a bit more. See? Different attitude.

My last post about my grading disaster on my final project has an update. My paper that I claimed I worked so hard over, etc etc? Well, I am re-reading it, with a clear head and, it totally sucked eggs. It was awful. So, starting from scratch, I am writing the paper I wanted to write, but, for a variety of reasons, (read stress and worry), I could not.

So there.

Sam is feeling like a vagabond these days. He lives out of a duffel bag. And, it is getting to him. He needs to get back to Milwaukee. He goes back a week from today. I think a dinner and movie might help. We'll see....

I keep thinking about this question that is written and posted on the door to the room where our support group meets:

What did you do right?

To some people that may seem somewhat basic. But, for someone like a person who lost a spouse, lover, child, parent, brother, sister or friend to suicide, it is a completely new concept.

If the question was, 'what did you do wrong?' well, pull up a chair, pitch a tent, unwrap a sleeping bag 'cuz you are gonna be here a long while as this question is answered. We all know what we did wrong. It is hard to know if the person who died by suicide wanted us to be immersed in that kind of self criticism. I don't think so, but, I can't be certain. Regardless, we know what we did wrong.

But the question hangs in the air, "what did you do right?" Huh? Right? Did I do anything right? It will take time to think about that. It is a different angle. I am unfamiliar with this perspective. And, I intend to become acquainted with it.

New Years Eve is a rough night for me. Gordon proposed to me on New Years Eve, 1987. So, regardless of the stuff I pack into the day (this year, two homemade soups, pumpkin bread, massive cleaning), I am running away from a terribly deep sadness. I run as long as I can, and then I get tired and I am hit with this basic feeling: I miss Gordon. I miss feeling that kind of love that I felt in 1987.

Ok, it hurts, I am sad and he is never coming back. A good cry and I should be feelin better.

And, I do.

I made it over that hump. I anticipate that next year, it might be the same. And, I can get through it.

So, I find myself on January 2, 2011 feeling relieved that it is no longer December 31, 2010. I am relieved that we have clean towels. I am relieved that I recognized a crappy paper and can rewrite it with a clear head.

And, for what I did right? I said, 'yes'.

777 Delivered.

Ah, Christmas is over. The tree seems a little lonely, sitting there with no presents underneath. The stockings look a little pitiful, stacked one on top of the other, all empty. I remember as a kid being kinda bummed when I would see the tree and the stockings the day after. Time marches on.

I have to say that I am a little bit proud of me. I have been planning for, oh, like 10 years to serve Christmas dinner to those who have nowhere else to go. And then, year after year, I would find an excuse or two that would keep me from following through and volunteering. But, this year, I was determined. I was determined to: stay within a budget and be happy with it; make lefse and eat it (even if it wasn't very good); and to follow through and DO IT, serve at the community Christmas dinner.

What was totally great about it wasn't even the fact that lots of people, many of whom are clients I have worked with the last year and a half were getting a delivered meal or coming in and eating a meal, but, it was the fellow volunteers. I was stationed next to a very funny grocery manager. He scooped potatos and stuffing, I drizzled gravy and handed it off to Sam who plopped a helping of corn. We stood side by side, laughing, talking, and feeling really good about getting the job done. 777 meals delivered. And, we helped get that done.

And, the line! There was a line, a mile long, not of people there to eat, but, to volunteer to deliver! That was a pretty cool thing to see. So, being with other Lawrence people, all with the same idea, felt so good, I can't even describe it. It felt, 'right'. I felt so very proud to be a Lawrencian. Lawrence can be a really great place to live.

And then, it was off to Josh and Andrea's for their first Christmas in their 107-year old house in Topeka. Now, these two are amazing. Youth is wasted on the young, that is for sure. Josh is my nephew who married Andrea, who we all love so very much. Anyway, they saved up, went without, like you are supposed to, and bought an old house. Then, instead of charging a bunch of stuff or, hiring contractors to do this and that, they did it all themselves. After a long ass day at work, they would head over to their house and peel 107 years of wallpaper off the walls, tear out old cupboards and take old linoleum off of floors. I was so impressed with all of this. We, as a family, are notoriously NOT good at doing the handy kind of things. But, these two have helped prove that it can be done. And, the house is great!

Another cool thing was getting very thoughtful gifts from Sam and Georgia. Both of them got me stuff that I will appreciate: a big box of Milk Duds from Georgia and some good smelling lotion and body spray; a cool book from Sam about music and some incense... I dunno, I was very appreciative. It meant alot to me, that something was under that tree with my name on it!

And, then there is lunch with Jeff and Diane. I have known Jeff and Diane since 1990. My son, Sam was in diapers when I met them. We have Christmas eve lunch at one of our favorite places, Johnny's and drink margaritas and laugh about all kinds of stuff. Jeff makes amazing cheesecake, and makes them for 10-12 people each year. We were lucky enough to make the cut again this year. And, I managed to get one sliver of it, before Sam ate the rest over the last three days. He ate all of it!

And, then there was the lefse making with Sarah. The first batch was horrible and dad was quick to point it out. We then all went to see 'True Grit' and dad even went. Dad's verdict was that it was, "just as good as the original". This is high praise from Fred, believe me. It was great to go to a movie with him, too. (he doesn't like going to the movies).

So, all in all, it was a great Christmas.

Tomorrow it is back to work. And, this is the last week as a casemanager. I am bummed about that, but, have to be hopeful that as this door closes, another one will open, right?

Go Sh(* in Your Hat

It's midnight. Dad is snoring away in his chair. Sam is snoring away on the couch. Georgia is probably snoring away in her bed. And, I am wide awake.

My last few days have been coated with shame. I was waiting on a grade for one of my classes. I worked my butt off on the final presentation and the paper. This instructor is an APA stickler of all things, APA. I thought I had done a pretty good job. And then, in the blink of an eye, all that self-confidence was down the toilet. I did not cite a reference correctly. No, I did not say that I did not cite a source, but that it was cited, incorrectly. In her book, this is a mortal sin. And, she accused me of far more than I committed.

I was given a choice: rewrite this paper that amounts to about 40 percent of my grade, or, get an 'F' on the paper, which pulls the grade down to a 'C'. In grad school, a 'C' is like an 'F-'. I chose to re-write the paper.

I cannot begin to express how awful I felt. It was as if I had committed a felony. I did not cheat. I did not take credit for anothers' work. I simply cited something, incompletely. It was in the bibliography. It was even cited. It was just cited, wrong.

I actually contemplated for a moment or two, quitting school and becoming a career cleaning lady! What the hell? Five semesters of 4.0 down the drain?

I talked with one of my sisters. She is also pursuing a degree in social work. She helped me screw my head back on correctly.

Then, the best part of all of this, is that the very group that inspired my research, presentation and paper, supported me tonight. I went to my group, and told the 15 other people in the room, what happened. And, given that there were at least two or three teachers in the room, the collective gasp and muttering made me feel better. Everyone agreed that the punishment was much too harsh for the 'crime'. But, regardless, what FELT good was tossing that pile of shame out the window, and wrapping their support around my little narrow shoulders and remembering what IS important. This, my friends, is what matters. Friends. And, I had a room-ful of them and would pretty much do anything for any of them. So, to quote Corrado Soprano (from 'The Sopranos'): "Go shit in your hat".

Instead of watching alot of really bad reality television and eating fudge the next few weeks, I will be re-researching the power of shared interest groups for those who are socially isolated. Fun times.

Tonight, after feeling good after the meeting, I decided to fete my co-workers with homemade baked goods. I made gingerbread cookies shaped like Christmas trees. I frosted them with red frosting. Then, I started to realize how off that was, then, realized I was over thinking the cookies. I made 'Spectacular Fudge'. We'll see if it works out. I made chocolate covered pretzels. And, I now know what white chocolate smells and looks like when it is burnt in the microwave.

I like my co-workers. They are two young social workers, both smart. And, both, quite thin, now that I think of it, but, that is besides the point. Anyway, I like them. I am encouraged by their ability to really look over a situation in a critical way and help their clients in a positive way. I worry that tI think I tend to love my clients a wee bit too much. I also know for a fact that caring for others is not a character flaw. But, again, I like these two young women. They are smart. And, as someone who is old enough to be their mom, I am strangely proud of them both. I wish I could tell both of their moms that they should be proud, because these two young women do the profession of Social Work proud.

I decided that I would re-write this paper AFTER Christmas. I have until January 15th. And, why can't I focus on the good stuff, like the fact that she gave me an A plus on my presentation and said it was one of the best she had seen? Why can't I focus on that? I dunno....

I was reminded tonight how important it is to get in touch with 'What you Did Right'. As a person who lost a loved one to suicide, one of the hardest things to get past is all of the things I think I did wrong. The should haves and the could haves. But, we have been challenged to consider the things we each did, right.

And so, in 2011, I am going to try and identify what I have done, right.

And yes, Christmas trees CAN be red!