Life as I know it

In honor of Mr. Sullivan

2011-11-04T19:41:00.000-07:00

Today is Friday. On Fridays I deliver Meals on Wheels to our clients in Cresson. There are 3 stops, a total of 33 miles round-trip, and 6 clients. We make this delivery only once a week (1 hot meal and 4 frozen meals) because of the distance. Somehow Cresson became my route. I used to ride along with Teresa to deliver the route because it gave us 45 minutes to an hour in the car alone to talk about boys. And now that Teresa is gone, I still deliver the meals. The clients are nice, of course. But I have a favorite.

He's our newest client on the route and his name is Mr. Sullivan. He lives out in the country off of 171. He has been windowed for 20 years and never remarried. He lives alone in the house that he built for his wife just 4 years before she died. The house was built in the 70s. A ranch style house that was very lovely when it was built. It has been well maintained structurally, but has not been updated--ever. The couch and chair in the living room are smooth velveteen and are a floral pattern of brown and harvest gold. The carpet is worn thin and used to be a bright harvest gold as well. The light fixtures, linoleum floor, and wood paneling all scream 1970s. It reminds me very much of my grandparents' home. (They only replaced the flooring in the late 90s because of a water heater flood mishap.)

His living room centers around the brick fireplace. It's really quite nice, even now. There is a beautiful mantle made of protruding brick. It is lined with family photos from the 80s, 90s, and more current. It has built-in wooden bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. They are lined with old encyclopedias and a few other books, likely old Farmers Almanacs.

In his kitchen he has a side-by-side refrigerator that is beige with dark brown handles that is impeccably clean inside. The freezer is empty until I deliver the meals. The fridge holds 6-8 cans each of Dr Pepper and Cream Soda as well as some lunch meat and not much else.

When I arrive, Mr. Sullivan is most often in his recliner in the corner of the living room (next to the electric organ). He has a wheelchair and his feet are always tightly bandaged. They swell, but he doesn't have diabetes--much to his chagrin it seems. He sometimes has something in his lap that he is reading, but he never has the TV turned on. There is a TV, of course. It is a 25" tube TV with digital converter box sitting on top of his old console TV. I asked today if he just used the old TV as a stand and he said "There's only one part that's bad in it, but I'd have to order it from Tennessee."

At the end of his coffee table he has a stack of folders and binders with labels on them for what they contain. One says Meals on Wheels. It holds our contact information and the paperwork he received when we signed him up for service. Today he handed it to me and asked for me to write my name down inside. (We'll get back to that in a minute.)

Last time I delivered to Mr. Sullivan I still had other stops to make. He loves to talk and I wanted to stay longer, but I couldn't. So today I re-routed myself so that he was my last stop. I took at least 30 minutes at his house today. We talked about nutrition, the plants in his sunroom, and his ailments. While we were talking I noticed a plaque and framed photo on his living room wall. I walked over to get a closer look and I asked him about it. It was his retirement plaque and photo from GD. He worked there for 36 years. He retired in 1982. By my calculations that means he's likely 86 or more (I didn't ask). He lit up when I asked about the picture. He told me about the party they threw for him and even had a few 8x10s in an envelope there on his hearth that he quickly found to show me. He even showed me a pamphlet with photos of the jets he worked on.

As he talked, I thought about how wonderfully sweet the moment was. He worked for THIRTY-SIX years at a great company that is well respected. He had, I'm sure, a lot of responsibility. And now he lives in the house he built for his wife--alone for 20 years. My how things can change. This man seems to have done it all right--marriage, job, kids, nice farm house, yet he sits alone in the quiet on most of his days.

After I printed my name in his Meals on Wheels notebook I handed it back to him and turned to leave. He said "I'm gonna memorize this and call you by your first name the next time you come." This gave me more delight than I expected.

Mr. Sullivan is a great picture of the face of senior hunger in our county and country. He was a white collar worker for 36 years with one of the nation's largest defense contractors, he raised a family, built a farmhouse, buried a wife, and now lives alone. He cannot drive, cannot walk without a walker, and most certainly cannot stand at the stove to cook his own meal. He lives at least 20 minutes from a grocery store, no pizza place will deliver out there, his family lives in other surrounding cities, and he has no close neighbors. His doctors are always telling him he needs to eat. If it weren't for Meals on Wheels, how would he?

There is a gross misconception that seniors in America are hungry because they are poor, or sick, or made bad choices in their lifetime. Not many people stop to think about the seniors like Mr. Sullivan who have done everything right--lived a good life, and worked hard--yet suffer from a lack of nutrition.

Working with so many seniors on a daily basis it is easy to become jaded or even indifferent toward them. I deal with the complaint phone calls, am constantly interrupted in my office while I try to work on the budget, send in billing information to the state, and prepare for board meetings, financial audits, & budget hearings. I sometimes think of the clients as my biggest obstacle to competing work instead of the clients themselves being the work to which I am called. Days like today, people like Mr. Sullivan, remind me that I work on the budget, send in billing information to the state, and prepare for board meetings, financial audits, & budget hearings so that I can do the work of serving the seniors. It is truly an honor to be a part of this service. As our new billboard says, "A meal, and so much more."

Stupid November

2011-11-03T21:04:00.001-07:00

I am not really sure why I feel the sudden need to blog after a hiatus of eight months. Well, not true. I read a really interesting blog tonight that belongs to a high school classmate of mine. She and I weren't friends then and I haven't seen her in years. It's not that we didn't like each other; we were just in different circles. And I think everyone knows how hard it can be to break the bounds of a circle that was set up when you were 14. So, I read her Blog and really connected to it. Also, my mom blogs. And she does a damn fine job of it. And I blog when I'm stressed or trying to work something out in my head. So all of those are factors leading to me typing on my iPad in bed, in the dark at 11:08 on a Thursday night. My poor dogs wish I'd just go to bed already.

I have been in a foul mood at work for a couple weeks now. I even took a day off last week hoping it would cure me. No such luck. I have been irritable towards my coworkers and desperately want to hide in my office with the door shut. One day this week I made myself sit in the dining hall during lunch and I sat with a table of sweet people whom I love. We talked about everyone's thanksgiving plans, my family, their families, etc. just being with others helped. And yesterday I made myself go to choir and handbells even thought what I really wanted was a nap. I felt SO much better after rehearsal. Being surrounded by my sweet choir mates and getting lost in the treble and bass chefs made a world of difference.

So today I took a different tactic. Our financial audit of the senior center is a week from Monday. It requires a lot of preparation and pulling of files. I hadn't done any of it yet. Today I focused on preparing the documents. Getting into quickbooks and pulling files really helped to calm my nerves and get my mind out of my own mind.

That seems to be a recurring problem for me. I can never get out of my own head. My days off of work are more often about getting out of my head than being sick. But mental illness is real, too. And I mean that sincerely. I think I do suffer from clouded brain the same way anyone would suffer from a stuffy nose, sore back, or nasty cough. You can ignore it, but that won't make it go away. It requires rest, and the proper medication. For me that varies: nintendo, perezhilton, movies, reading, and occasionally cooking or a craft. I think my main problem is that I don't do any of them consistently. If I kept a regimen of one thing or another I would likely have better brain health on a regular basis. But it's also like those five extra pounds. They sneak up in you and then it's "CRAP! How did this happen?!?" and you have to do emergency repair work.

I think tonight's repair work through words has come to a close. There's so much more to say, but it can be said tomorrow.

stressed-out /ˈstrɛstˈaʊt/ –adjective afflicted with or incapacitated by stress.

2011-03-24T08:14:00.000-07:00

Incapacitated by stress. Yes. That's me. I can't seem to get myself back to a "normal" feeling. I have been working in the dining hall of the Senior Center since February 7th. Almost 2 months of no real office, no door to close, no work phone on my desk, no privacy, no sanity. I have also been very busy with special events, fundraisers, board meetings, and the ongoing construction of the building.

I have never been one to handle stress very well. My body starts to go on strike. My back hurts, my sleep is interrupted, my shoulders tense up, I get sick, etc. I have been having an especially hard time lately. I have had numerous stress dreams. And dreams about buildings. I dreamed about my childhood home again last night. I was re-doing the bathroom.

Today, I really want to just shut my office door and watch YouTube videos. But, I don't have an office door. I have a fort made of bedsheets. The Meals on Wheels volunteers are harassing me today. Quite vehemently. One man yelled at me "AHHH!" through my sheet. Then he came and tried to poke an umbrella through the corner where the sheets meet, then he threw trash over the top of the sheets and onto my chair with me. And I am in NO mood to be messed with.

I'm also getting to the point where I'm almost afraid to be at home alone. At my OWN HOME. I've lived there for two and a half years. It's my home. Why am I scared? I think I am feeling so alone and isolated at work, dealing with the construction, doing my normal duties etc, that I can't stand to actually BE alone. I keep going to Tony's house just so that I'm not alone. Two nights ago I sat in my chair at home and just cried and cried. Bobby Joe came to be my furry kleenex, as always, but it wasn't enough. I needed to be with a person who was physically in the same room, to prove to my brain that I am not literally alone.

I feel like a big baby because of this. I have a house, a job, a life, but I can't seem to get out of my own head for long enough to LIVE it. I honestly have no idea what I would be doing if I didn't have Tony to depend on. I think I might have had to pack up a few days' worth of stuff and take my dogs and stay with my parents. I am at a loss. I really don't want to have to take any kind of medication. I have been there, done that. It makes me feel funny. And I can't stand the thought of not being in total control of my emotions.

I keep telling Tony that I need a hobby. Or drugs. I totally understand how people fall into addiction. I would never actually DO drugs, but I can see how this type of emotion would drive a person to try them.

But back to the hobby part. I have no idea what kind of hobby to take up. I have never really had any kind of hobby. But I need something to do that takes me out of my own head, allows me to escape, and helps to clear the junk out. I will not exercise. That just pisses me off. Honestly, I want to lay down in my bed and sleep for about 5 days. I don't know how people handle real life.

A beginning?

2011-03-07T16:11:00.000-08:00

I don't have any clue how long it's been since I last wrote a blog. I used to do it ALL the time. In college I had a Xanga. Wow, old school. It was a good way of sorting through things and typing is much easier than writing in a journal.

So I thought now might be a good time to try a blog again. I have had this URL for a while and deleted some posts that were a couple of years old. So, maybe this is a good time to start again.

Things have been mega crazy, busy, and stressful for a month now. The building I work in flooded a month ago. We STILL haven't started repairs. Insurance is an awful mess, especially when you are dealing with a large commercial insurance company and a non-profit business. Sheesh.

So that has caused all sorts of other things to go on. Of course, the stress dreams were one of the first things to occur, and they are still going strong. I often stress-dream about my family. I think that it's common for people to stress-dream about something that is always in the back of their mind as a worry. My extended family sure is that for me. But last night my stress dream was that someone was hurting my dog, Mr. Hogan. Hogan is my super sweet 11 year-old dog. He recently had surgery to remove a fatty tumor from his leg. He's doing great, way better than before the surgery. So why would I dream about him being hurt by someone? How sad. I woke up at 12:55 am from that dream and I was very upset. It's really hard to go back to sleep after that kind of dream.

Additionally, my body is freaking out on me. I had a massage last week and I already need another. I made an appointment for 3 weeks from the day of the last massage. So luckily I at least have one lined up. And then there's being sick. I have taken a Z-Pack and a round of steroids in the past month. I also have taken a LOT of cough syrup. Now it's just the cough lingering. So I take medicine, and try to not laugh. Laughing sets off the coughing even worse.

But luckily in all of this I have a boyfriend. A really great one. The idea of dealing with a stressful work situation and then having to come home and continue the futile concept of online dating is exhausting to just *think* about. Match, eHarmony, Plenty of Fish, eVow, OKCupid, I tried it all. And always I knew that I wouldn't meet the right guy that way. I expected (and received) several dates, a few short relationships, but I knew that a lasting relationship wasn't going to happen for me online. So then I met Tony. He is one of my classmates from Leadership Granbury. I was drawn to his fun personality. He was one of few who was close in age, single, and not a fuddy-duddy. He became my "bus buddy" and we started talking. One day he asked me what my hobbies were. I very seriously and candidly answered "dating." We talked about that and online dating and such. Later that night after texting a bit, he came and crashed a date I was on. What a fun story. I was playing darts with this guy, KTB, and Tony comes to the bar, plays darts with us, and then asks me to buy him a beer. I like that he was confident and fun. So anyway, he's amazing and it's great to come home from work and know that I have someone I can talk to, vent to. Having one steady and great thing makes the unknown and stressful parts of life easier to deal with.

This has turned into quite the blog. Nobody knows that it exists, except maybe Sarah, so that makes it easier to ramble.