F-Bomb Level Adult Content

I have a bit of difficulty being so freely myself because though I am an Enneagram 8*, I was raised to deny, deny, deny that part of you cuz good, Southern Baptist women don't behave that way, Jesus*. We are all supposed to be 2s.* (Look it up, Betty.*). But I have found life absent from the freedom to be yourself disappointingly insufferable. I kinda wish I could get in line and walk around with a big grin on my face that wasn't put there by anything that makes me grin currently, other than just being alive. But alas, I am not. And also, being your authentic self is so much more interesting. Totally worth the fear of what people will think or say. So I say...or Andre says: "It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for something you are not." – Andre Gide. Enneagram 8s likely have lots of haters because we don't behave.  Therefore, I feel the strong need to warn you before you read. (Perhaps I should have done this when I first started publishing my blog again. But it's a bit late for that, Nancy*... )

"A listener note: this episode contains adult content and is not suitable for everyone. Please be advised."

 
You may be wondering as I did while putting on a podcast with my boys in the car: "Shit. Are we talking F-bomb level adult content (which I allow them to say in the privacy of our home. Or car. Or outside. Anywhere, actually, where no one else hears it but us. I don't like the stink eye I get as a momma whose kid drops an F-bomb and laughs. And also, sometimes we yell it), or some awkward-sexual-term-I-will-have-to-explain-to-my-9-and-12-year-old-that-I'm-not-at-all-prepared-for-and-will-absolutely-fuck-up-and-they-will-be-bullied-because-they-got-it-wrong adult content? I need more details, Candice*.

 
I am F-bomb level appropriate, readers. Well, I can't promise that. Actually completely delete that. I am all of the warning labels. All I can promise is that I will deliver the raw, unfiltered view of this beautifully terrifying, endlessly fascinating life as I see it from my eyes. Well, actually I hate commitment so I can't promise you anything, so strike that also because sometimes I feel bullied into behaving. Mostly by my momma. Moving on. Whatever.  My view is an incredibly narrow view because I am one person in a world who has inhabited trillions of people. Well, who really knows the number, but that sounds like a safe bet. F-bombs, awkward sexual discussions, and other such dicey subjects will be dissected. So if it's not your thing, or perhaps you have known me my whole life and want to see me still as a little girl, which I get...prolly best to stop reading, Linda.*. I love you.

On to the real guts of the blog. (Yes, that was a long intro. I'm aware.)...

Charities that Help Single Mothers

Read through this list. From what I can tell, there is jack SHIT out there that helps single mothers.

Yet, single mothers are the backbone of this nation. (Also, as far as my little eyes in this big, fucking world can tell.)

So let me educate you on the problems a single mother face (well, all genders who are single parents. But I identify as a mother so I'm gonna write in my voice. You can identify as whatever you want. And also, it's my fucking blog.  Just change pronouns and titles in your head, Felicia.* No exclusivity here. It's rainbows and hugs, bitch.):

1. No free child care in a world that demands you show up whether your kid is sick or not. In the hospital or not. Not only is it NOT free. It's fucking expensive. And the ones that are not are incredibly run down. Nowhere anyone with money would send their kids.

22. Your child has to get to school by a certain time. The school doesn't provide early care. Your job requires you to be there at 8 a.m. Your child's school doesn't accept kids until 7:50 a.m. You have to make the decision to either a)be late everyday and likely lose your job or b)leave your five year old standing in front of the school without you. Or you be a little bitch and ask for help. Nobody likes this option, Jesus.*

3. Aftercare costs money. But you have to use it because you don't get off until 5 p.m. So you're rushing to the school to get both your kids from different schools by 5:30 and then immediately get charged $1 a minute. So the $85 after taxes you just made today? (put in your own number, Lucy.*) $20 of that went to aftercare for your kids.

4. By the time you get home, you have dinner to cook, laundry to do, homework to facilitate, baths to give, a dog to walk, phones to raid, cleaning to do, wine to drink. Not to mention your own things that are huge hurdles: you have to go to court in three days and it will take at least four hours to collect what you need so that you actually get some support. Even if it's just $100 a month that will only pay for two days of food for all of you. It's something, Peggy.*

1. You face the daily challenge of how you are going to pay your bills today. The ones that are past due. Nevermind the current ones. The bank has taken most of your money with their fees because you can't keep up with what you have coming in or going out. You make just enough to cover your bills. You set up AutoPay because your phone has been turned off so much you can't risk not doing it. But then you forget when it's supposed to come out because AutoPay benefits only those who are consistently in the black and not currently running around with their hair on fire. In fact, being in the red is something AutoPay people NEVER do. And they don't understand how you don't have all your bills on AutoPay. So you just stop attempting it because there's nothing there anyways. Which means your credit is shit.

6. You stay tired. Emotionally, physically, mentally tired. Like bone tired.

7. You stay fat. You don't have the energy to do anything other than what you are required to do and you don't have the money to buy organic food or vitamins or supplements or probiotics or a gym membership, not that you would ever go anyways. And your stress levels are so off the charts you just keep packing on the pounds though you eat only enough so you don't pass out, drink a shit ton of water every day, work your ass off cleaning houses, and are constantly worried about your weight. Weight gain is a symptom, Gina.* (My stressed out ass is now almost 20 pounds less than when I was in Louisiana living this lovely life of a single momma. Your body doesn't lie, Hildegard.*)

8. You drink too much. Yes, you spend money on alcohol. And various other God-given anti-anxiety meds. And you see the look on your parents' faces when they know you've bought alcohol and you're broke but you know that between you and that bottle lies a week of nightly, guaranteed, relaxation. OK, who are we kidding. One night, OK? It lasts one night. L.O.L. And you feel like shit the next day but fuck, you needed that.

9. You attempt to date because our lovely patriarchal society has told you that you need a man in order to be stable. So you dutifully give up hours of your Friday night making small talk with a man child who doesn't have kids but two weekends a month, voted Republican, has a million in retirement already, makes three times what you do because he's hot and confident and he's a white man and he is talking about all his trips and adventures and hobbies and work outs and is asking you what vacation you want to take next and whether you own your house while you stifle a giggle because the vacation you are dreaming of is in your kids' tub with a glass of wine in a run down rent house (you gave up hopes of owning your own years ago) that is quiet minus all the damn pets your kids love because your kids have finally spent the night with someone other than you while your date undresses you with his eyes completely oblivious to the dark circles and haphazardly done makeup as you drove to the date already 10 minutes late because your kids' dad was late again and you wonder if you remembered to shave cuz hopefully you'll get something out of this mind-fuck because you're starting to worry that batteries can make babies and hoping he doesn't spend the night so you can wake up alone in a quiet house. For once. All the while you are petrified of getting pregnant or getting an STI because we all know who the abortion laws support and you know damn well this man is not going to wear a condom. And he splits the bill. Did I mention white man privilege? And also, can you make yourself gay?

9. Your kids know how to cook and do laundry because you gave up that chore when you had to decide between paying bills or being a domestic slave.

 
11. You find yourself lonely in a room full of the dreaded soccer mom because they are talking about what's new on TikTok, how slow Amazon has become, their favorite lip gloss, complaints about their husbands, the best vegan recipe, what their church is doing to help the poor and they are all the while secretly eyeing you because they're a bit wary of single women...and you're poor.

12. You have fucking awesome kids.

*numbers are intentional cuz I don't do order.

*Enneagram Institute: https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/

**Nancy, Felicia, Jesus, Shirley, Hilary, Hildegard, Betty are all random names for comedic flare which makes me happy inside. I find it hilarious, and giggle loudly when I reread it but if you do not I'm sorry.  Not sorry.  You're welcome.

*Candice DeLong, host of Killer Psyche podcast

Empty Pockets, Full Heart

 "I can't start crying because I'm afraid I won't stop."  I said to her.   I had too much to do.  I had to focus on what I do best as an Enneagram 8.  I DO. Action has never been difficult for me.  It's the repercussions of those actions that get me into trouble.  So I packed my boys up and loaded the SUV and Sadie, our Golden Retriever, and drove the 9 hrs. to my parent's house in Texas.  I stayed one night with them and turned back around to load up our lives.  I started tearing up at the U-Haul place when the trailer wouldn't work, but I remembered the flood behind the dam and stuffed that shit down and got it done.  By 1 p.m. the next day I was driving out of the swamp and to my new home.

That was August 15.  And the flood has come.

Something triggered me and the tears started flowing.  My voice raised an octave.  I was shaking.  Homegirl could not function.

I am broke.   I am applying for welfare while people I love thrive.  I am outraged that I have gotten here.  I'm outraged that they have gotten there.  We are on opposite ends of the spectrum.

And we are the same.

We regard each other the exact same from our little corner..with judgement.  The only way to pull yourself out of that is to hold material things lightly.  Like so lightly that it doesn't affect you either way.  You have money, so you buy what brings you joy. (hopefully)  I do the same, just on a smaller scale.  We're just all trying to survive, Jesus.

However, what our good ol' red, white and blue values is independence and prosperity.  And if you are neither of those, you have little value and become a burden to those around you.  Your presence on earth is an inconvenience to those who make the money and hold the power.  You become hated because you are costing the "successful" time and energy.  They resent your breathing the same air as they do because you are inherently less important than they are.  Because if you weren't, then it would mean that their image of their own value would be questioned.  And that is far too scary to approach. We say with our lips that we know money is the root of all evil, that we work to live, that we value people over our possessions.  But it in fact has become our goal.  Sadly, this dismantles everything true about life and leaves us living a lie. 

Love is the goal.  Not money.

We have all been lied to.

We do not say on a true crime podcast about someone who passed:

-They drove the most expensive, fastest car!

-They lived in a beautiful house!

-They had a large amount of savings!

-They were so rich!

-They had multiple degrees!

- They had a boat!

-They had all the toys!

-They were debt free!

-They knew the value of money!

-They were shopping for a huge house while their family was applying for welfare!

-They never borrowed money from anyone!

-They thought they were superior to people who smoke!

-They chose ethics over relationships!

-They followed all the laws!  Well, mostly!

-They loved money!

-They had good boundaries!

-They only helped you if you were responsible with your money!

-They were self-sufficient!

No, we fucking absolutely do not.  What we do say is:

-They were hilarious.

-They could make anyone laugh.

-They were so kind.

-They loved life.

-They were generous.

-They lit up a room.

-They were incredibly wise.

-Their home was my safe place.

-They would give you the shirt off their back.

-They loved their kids.

-Their family meant the world to them.

-They worked so their family was taken care of.

-They were a big teddy bear.

-They always made me laugh.

-They gave the best hugs.

-They protected me.

-They fought for the underdog.

-They never judged me.

-They would drop everything to be there.

-Their door was always open.

-They were the most easy-going person.

-I loved being around them.

-It didn't matter that I was broke as fuck, irresponsible with money, needy, and living with my parents with my two boys in tow after fleeing Louisiana.  They treated me like they always did...with respect and dignity.

My heart is broken.

We have constructed a society in which the value of a person resides in what they have to offer you...in the way of possessions.  We say this isn't true.  Because we tithe to our church.  We support a child in Africa.  We volunteer at church.  We give food to homeless people.  We pray for the poor.  We give to people we think are worthy.

We are good, God-fearing people, right?

I thought so.  I bought into it.  I regarded homeless people with resent because I had more than they did.  It wasn't my fault I was rich.  I know how to work hard and earn a living and take care of myself. Why can't they?  What is wrong with them?  Clearly they are messed up.  "But we're all messed up," I say to myself dutifully.  Letting myself off the hook for judging them.  I don't really believe this.

I really did believe that I was better because I was a hard worker and could take care of myself.  

But then I almost lost my son.  What followed was a string of comedic events (not comedy, like haha, but like DARK comedy).  My marriage fell apart.  My business fell apart.  I lost my house.  I lost my footing.  I ran up debts trying to maintain what was once my life.  My gut dictated my behavior because I knew I would fall apart if my heart spoke.  For eight years, I made a host of decisions that screamed just how broken and exhausted my soul was.  I didn't listen.  I didn't have the tools.  So I continued my rampage through life.  Impulsively buying, impulsively living, destructively hobbling through finances.

Until it brought me here.  Living in an RV behind my parents' house with literally less than nothing.

Except I've never felt so incredibly wealthy.

What I discovered during this process is that I am not the sum of my worldly possessions.  I have value with or without money.  I can still love.  I can still listen.  I can still hold you when you're hurting.  I can still help you when you need it by giving what I can.  I can still share my life.  I can still love.

I suppose this is why I have changed my label from "socially liberal and fiscally conservative" to "LIBERAL AF."  If we as humans cannot be relied on to take care of each other, then we should be forced to do it.  Make all the fucking money in the world that you want.  It doesn't matter how much or little you make.  What matters is that you are of infinite value to the Creator of the Universe.  Your worth is not based on your "earning potential" or your ability to live independently.  You matter just as much as Elon Musk.  You matter just as much as Beyonce.  You matter just as much as Steve Jobs.  You matter just as much as Oprah.  You matter just as much as Ghandi.  You matter just as much as Jesus.  You.  Matter.  With or without a great credit score,  with or without a bankruptcy, with or without a job,  with or without the ability to even get a job, with or without a pension or a retirement account, living on welfare or making a million a year.  In a huge ass house or out of your mind on drugs living on the street.  You.  Matter.  And NO ONE determines your value except the universe.  And we all know that means you are of infinite value.  You know because of the sparrows and lilies of the valley and all.  (Matthew 6:28)

When the tears did start, they continued for a few days and then subsided and left me in a state of contentment.  Because all my rage about my situation and the situation of others surfaced, yelled at the top of its lungs, and then sat with a goofy ass grin on its face because it was finally given a voice.

I hope you find your own broke ass sitting in an RV in the middle of the mysteries of nature with empty pockets and a full heart.

"Do not store up riches for yourselves here on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and robbers break in and steal. Instead, store up riches for yourselves in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and robbers cannot break in and steal. For your heart will always be where your riches are." –Matthew 6:19-21

-

Single Momma & Wide, Open Spaces

 I was sitting in our shed outside when the call came in that changed the course of our lives.  It was time to move back to Texas.  Everything in me awoke with purpose.  The boys had already started school in New Orleans.  Their tuitions were paid.  Uniforms, supplies and books were bought.  Schedules were worked out, clients were lined up.  My dad had just built a shed and bought a lawnmower for us.  We were actively working on our house, making plans for the future.  My boys and I lived with one of my bffs and we were all thoroughly settled.

And it all came to an ear-piercing STOP.

Two weeks later, here I sit in my parents' house with my son next to me on his phone.  It's so early the rooster hasn't crowed.  The country life encourages going to bed with the sun and rising the same.  Our belongings are mostly packed up.  The little furniture we brought is sitting in my parents' shed.  My dog has become a farm dog.  Our mornings begin with coffee and animals who have to be fed.  Our nights conclude with the feeding of the animals again and us sitting together watching whatever show we're currently binging.

I watch my boys curiously often, trying to determine what emotions are stirring.  I see glimpses of confusion and sometimes sadness and anxiety.  When I asked my 12 yr. old if he missed New Orleans, he said, "I only lived there for 12 years, momma.  What do you think??"  And we all laughed.  And cried.

I started reading a book by Martha Beck, (Harvard trained sociologist, coach and author) entitled Finding Your Own North Star  about two months ago.  I was thoroughly invested in the book, doing all the homework she assigned.  I began meditating on my life and where my north star might reside.  

And two months ago what I came up with was that I feel most at peace when I'm close to my family.

I shoved that thought down because that was a peace I was not going to have consistently.  Holidays and random other visits were all the maximized peace I was allowed, I thought.  So it remained dormant, enclosed in a dull heartache.

Raising your kids alone is one of the hardest things I have ever done, and likely will ever do.  When my marriage was pulverized to bits eight years ago, I fumbled through the requirements of a single mom.  In the beginning of my divorce period, I was incredibly lost.  My parents still lived in New Orleans, so I thankfully had something solid to offer my boys.  When they moved four years ago, I provided what solid ground I could offer to my boys.  It was a significant handicap, a weak attempt at what could have been.

So I poured myself into my tribe of girlfriends and my ex's family.  They became my family.  They were the ones who helped when I couldn't do the duties of single mom alone.  We had family sleepovers often.  We were mom, dad, grandpa, grandma, aunt, uncle, cousin, friend to each other's kids.  My boys have numerous "aunts" aka my bffs.

I became more liberal.  I abandoned my previous, Conservative ideas about money and laws and the role of the government.  I evolved into someone who had nothing but her character to offer.  I read (or listened to) every book I could get my hands on about deconstructing your faith and tentatively rebuilding it into something much more whole.  Something that I could pass on to my children.  If it wasn't money or traditional stability, then I could at least give them a solid faith that encouraged love of self and others above.  all.  else.  

This new faith grew out of the desperation of a single momma who felt very ill-equipped to be a mother.

I had lots of help along the way in the form of various authors, musicians, and podcasters.*  Glennon, Jen, Luvie, Amanda, Abby, Eckhart, Brenda, Richard, Marren, Henry, Brian, all the Mikes, Hillary, Esther, Nichole, Chandler, Naomi, Krista etc...........  I was a desperate woman digging desperately to find the solid ground I lost.

The Universe, our Divine Being, They, Jesus, God, Buddha, Muhammed, Jehovah, Ra, Mother Nature.... the possible names for God are endless.  One study found that there were at least 18,000 Gods found throughout human history.  

Whatever you want to call them.  I was searching for the personal God that dissipated under my  knowledge and experience.  And single motherhood offered the perfect shroud for discovery.

All the knowledge that found me carried me here.  To this very moment...sitting outside in Goldthwaite, TX waiting for the sun to come up over the wide, open spaces that I now call home.

*@glennondoyle, @jenhatmaker, @luvie, @amandadoyle, @abbywambach, @eckharttolle, @brendadavies, @richardrohr, @marrenmorris, @henrynouwen, @brianmclaren, @sciencemike, @michaelgungor, @hillarymcbride, @estherperel, @nicholenordeman, @chandlermoore, @naomiraine, @kristatippett