Dedication: My Quest to Stay in the Fight

Next Saturday, I will hit the road by 7:30am.

I will drive 241 miles to take a state exam, in hopes of getting back in the State Personnel Board game. I did the same thing earlier this year. Set out on a journey, in the pouring rain, driving 80 miles with poor visibility, all in hopes of gaining eligibility for one state list. As you can see, this time around is a bit more ambitious. Will the outcome really be worth spending 4+ hours in the car, and 3+ hours in front of a computer being tested? Well, at least the test results will be worth all the trouble since I'll be allowed to use a calculator this time. This little wealth of information hidden in the fine print is what gave me the extra push.

Now, all I have to do is find a vehicle or a really good friend who can help me make the trip!

Wish me luck!

Being Expendable

I wonder what all of this means. What does it all really mean?

Another rejection. It would be nice if the rejection could at least come after the interview. I've never even made it to the interview stage. They don't have to see me in person to know that they don't want me working with their establishment. No matter how much I try to prove myself on paper, its just not enough. How can I be what these people want when I'm not even sure what they are looking for? I illustrate all the ways that I can meet their needs, all the ways that my skills can be beneficial to them, the ways in which I can do the job, and their response is that they went with someone whose skills better fit their needs. Why can't someone just give me a chance? With each rejection I fade more into the background. With each week/month/year that passes, my resume becomes less desirable, less relevant.

Was I really supposed to be working in an office - gaining experience, while going to school full time, raising my daughter on my own, dealing with death consecutively, never making a full recovery from being raped, in and out of depression, already not getting the most out of the education that I was getting? Did others around me do it because they were "only" raising children while doing school and work? Or because they had a boyfriend or husband living at home, bringing in the money, leaving them to focus more on family and academics? Did I not try hard enough? I did try! I did more than just try. I went to work. Sometimes forfeiting my classes and school work to be in the office longer, so I could see more money on my paycheck, to feel like it all was worth it. I felt like I had finally found my "place" when I was in that office. I felt like a contributor. Like I made a difference and was needed. I had made friends, was a part of the pack, or so I thought.

A year passed, and still, I was thinking ahead, about how I could be of service to the company. I was nearing graduation, so then I would be available full time. I was looking at housing closer to work for when it was time to relocate, I was even thinking about how my first love of journalism and my interest in photography could benefit the company. Since "I" was already the Marketing Department, I wanted to apply myself more during showroom travel. Photographing the showroom for the company website, making a suggestion to the CEO and COO that we should become a completely electronic based office where documents were concerned. I never got the chance to make it known that I saw myself as a permanent part of the company. I had started sensing that there was something not quite right with my scheduling. I had tried making myself more available, and would be told that I wasn't needed for the number of hours that I was available, when months earlier, my availability was welcomed. Then the day came. I was asked into the CEO's office, he gave me a speech about no longer being able to afford to keep me (due to the economy), told me I had two weeks, and if I needed a letter for my next job he'd be happy to write me one. There was no farewell party for me, like there had been for a coworker who had left the office. No one said anything. No one emailed me when I didn't return. It was as if I had never even been a part of the company. As if I had never shared anything with the people in that office. It was such a hurtful ending. I'm obviously still affected by it.

And now, as I search for a comfortable, fulfilling office assistant job, I find that companies are looking for people who have all of this experience. Asking a minimum of 2 years, which isn't much to someone who actually has worked for 2 years. My last experience was the longest that I have ever been at any one job. One year and 5 months. I feel like, in every aspect of life, I always come up short. Like, no matter what I do, how hard I may work or fight, I come up short. After everything that I sacrificed to be available for my company, my ass got kicked to the curb, and my time there isn't paying off for me in the way of experience, I still come up short. I'm reminded of that every time I open a new job ad or apply to one.

For anyone who reads this, I already know what you're probably gonna say. "Its the economy." Yeah, I know all about the economy. I'm sick to death of the fucking economy, and being told repeatedly that its the economy. Its worst than being told, its not you, its me. Which brings me to a random thought: What the fuck is Arnold doing making an appearance in a movie? With the state of California, his ass should NOT be on any big screen unless he is gonna be putting the money from the film into the pockets of Californians! AND, its not essentially just the economy. People are getting jobs. I know this because I am friends with some of the people who are getting jobs. So, what the fuck am "I" doing wrong? Perhaps you will suggest that I do more, such as take another class, take a different kind of job - anything that's available, go to a temp agency. Simply put, I'm really doing all that I have the capacity to do. I just really need for things to change. I deserve for things to change. Nobody deserves to invest so much of their time and money into a University, believing that in doing so they have insured a future free of poverty, only to end up homeless, with no possible leads to employment. So many that I know chose to go to grad school because of this very reality. They didn't want to face it. I chose to face it head on, because I desired to work. I needed to work - a change in my routine, a new direction in my life. I've been in a classroom for 21 years straight, I'm fucking tired of that lifestyle! I believed that I would find something.

So what now?

Continue applying for jobs, hoping to be chosen.

Try to think of ways to be more creative in my approach to employers.

Navigate the trap of being over qualified and/or under qualified.

Sharpen my computer skills through online program training.

All while functioning at half capacity, and being extremely depressed.

A Week In Review

Courtesy of T. Allen-Mercado

- I attended an employment and housing orientation to learn more about services offered by a local organization. I had such anxiety sitting there, taking everything in. The majority of my assistance search has resulted in me finding out that, in order to be assured the help I was seeking, I either had to be a battered woman trying to escape her abuser or have a drug addiction. Just being a regular old plain jane, down on her luck isn't always enough to qualify for certain programs. Luckily, I didn't meet those challenges with this particular program. I have a 5 day Job Prep Workshop to look forward to next week. And then on to vocational counseling, employment services, and housing, with hopefully some mental health assistance thrown in there too. The road to wellness is how I'm viewing it.

- My granddad finally made it back home. He hadn't even taken a nap yet before he and my grandma were in the car and gone. Things to do and people to see. To ignore your limitations is to be both admired and cautioned.

- Emma is officially headed toward puberty. I've been keeping an eye on her little buds for a while now, but last night, we went from colorful boob humor to full on conversations of breast development. Complaints of breast pain, and the sight of swelling landed us in the doctor's office today. Nothing abnormal was found or immediately expected, but considering all the facts, including her age, she got a Bone Age X-ray. The doctor wants to be sure that there isn't anything serious contributing to her early development.

- Got another email response back to a position that I applied for a couple of months ago. It was an office position in a very familiar setting. One I think I would have been happy with, BUT, they too decided to go with someone else. They said they had 300 resumes to review, and there were candidates who better fit the position than I did. Again, this was a position that I was confident I'd be great in. The bigger picture here is that I probably need to be looking in other fields, but I'm made for an office position, so that's where I will continue to try to get my foot in the door.


What have you been up to?

Lounging

I gave myself permission to get off to a late start today. I think I am still subconsciously retracing the steps of my wallet and AWOL currency. I'm still a little hurt, and a lot flustered by the fact that I've been stopped in my tracks, that a little bit of my control has been stripped away. However, there isn't anything left to do but move on. She said she didn't take it, it will not be replaced, end of story.

I'm lounging today. No need to rush to get out into the gloomy Bay Area overcast.

Money Doesn't Only Talk, It Walks!

Since when does 200 minus 32 equal 3?

That's what I was asking myself today, as I handed over 7 bucks to the girl working the drive-thru window. Yesterday, there was $176 in my wallet, left over from my two weekend purchases. After lunch, I was left with $3. I was absolutely livid! I pulled over, dumped my purse, went through my wallet, and nothing. No hidden 20s, just 3 lonely ass 1 dollar bills. I had plans for that little bit of change. Important plans. Plans that will not be carried out because of someone else's plans. I didn't want to think in terms of living amongst a theif, but it would be stupid of me not to, given the fact that the monies of others have a tendency to come up missing on a regular basis. I always try to keep careful watch over my possessions, especially my purse, but alas, I got a little too comfortable. Seems, at grandma's house, you have to store your shit behind lock and key if you plan on enjoying it yourself. The slightest slip up will have you parked at an intersection, nose turned up at fast food getting cold, crying into an empty wallet.

Because I have a suspect, I headed back to grandma's, packed a couple days worth of things for myself and Emma, and decided to come down to a friend's house. I can't close my eyes in the same house with her daughter tonight, and shit, she shouldn't close her eyes in the same house with me! All the thoughts that entered my mind were evil. All I could see was my fist connecting with her damn throat. As hard as the cash that I have is to come by, to have someone go into my purse and take it, and not take some - but all, is the ultimate disrespect. It would have been easy for me to forget that she's 16 years old. I wanted to be on that ass like white on rice, and still might!

After calling my grandma to inform her, she said she'd ask her about it. I'd feel a little better if she said she'd make her empty her pockets when she came home. I will surely never see that money again. When my grandma does ask her about it, she will deny it, as always. She's been denying shit from an early age - like when my digital recorder came up missing, and she swore that she was not guilty of taking it. Surprisingly, it was her guilty little voice all over it when I found it months later, hidden under my grandma's bathroom sink. Oddly enough, that is where I found my white clutch last month!

I wonder what else of mine does her ass try on when no one else is looking.

Organic Beauty

Photo by Karen of Naturally Beautiful Hair

I love this picture for so many different reasons. Our smiles radiate off the flash of Karen's camera. My breast always makes a lovely pillow for my baby girl. And on and on and on and on :).

All in the Family

Hello.

My name is Barbara.

And I am the mother of a child who has an Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder called Dermatophagia, better known as compulsive skin biting. It pretty much operates in the same way as Dermatillomania, except that there is biting instead of picking. I think I first noticed this condition in Emma when she entered grade school. During a bath time inspection, I noticed that her fingers were not only wrinkled from her time in the water, but they were... well... they had a lot of white skin. Her fingertips were so bitten up that I feared she didn't even have finger prints anymore! I was concerned. Not even considering my own picking habits, I thought maybe she'd started biting because she had recently lost a friend to a car accident. I took her in to see her doctor, who didn't make a huge deal out of it. Upon examination, she found Emma to be very well adjusted and happy. Not even needing to talk with a counselor. She suggested that I give Emma her own personal hand lotion or Vaseline to keep her hands well moisturized to discourage the urge to remove any dry skin.

I supplied her with a small container of Vasaline, asked her teacher to keep a lookout, and I would try to redirect her when I noticed her biting. These days her thumbs have the most visible damage. Her hands no longer have to be wet to tell that she bites them. I am still redirecting her when I catch her with her fingers to her mouth. I ask her why she does it and she doesn't know, nor does she feel that she can stop doing it. After researching both skin picking and skin biting, I can't really figure out why her doctor wouldn't use the term Dermatophagia, or give me the heads up that this biting behavior actually isn't as out of the ordinary as I first thought. What she did say is that I shouldn't pursue any kind of therapy for her biting, that moisturization would stop it. I call bullshit. She is still biting.

I do not see any harm in finding a therapist for Emma to talk to. It does not have to be viewed as "therapy" and it does not have to be consistant, but could be introduced as just another set of ears to hear her stories and experiences and an extra set of hands for her to play with. This school year I will try to get her on the list to meet with the school counselor, I was unsuccessful when I first attempted. If that is not an option I will further research and find someone myself. I hate feeling like I was not given all the facts. This is my baby we are talking about. She clearly has an impulse control issue, and I clearly need help helping her regain control. I wont overlook the fact that her doctor may not have experience with skin biters, but I don't think she should have overlooked the possibility that there could have been an underlying cause for her biting.

Although I don't find comfort in being labeled, labeling and researching treatments, I do find comfort in knowing that we are not alone.

Have any of you had to deal with any family illnesses? Do you and your children share them? You and your parents?