Operation **Reclaim** Loveland

A Place for Me – Settling In

After a while I settled in, and really liked having my own place. The Old Witch was decent to rent from. I didn’t have to hide anything from her, and that safety was a big deal. I still hung out at her house quite a bit as I struggled to settle into my own space.

I loved that the space was mine, and I could make the rules, and I wasn’t wrong all of the time. I could blast my music, and nobody complained about it being country. Clothing was optional, and nobody’s opinions were allowed about that either.

When I was married to the Amishishes we had acquired 3 cats from the same litter. The Mrs. insisted on naming the white one “Blue Eyes.” Guess what color it’s eyes were. Whatever.

The other two cats were named by me, and came with me in the move- Zandramas and Dickens. They were both incredibly sweet, and settled into cabin life much more easily than I did. With a hillside for a back yard living on the outskirts of town, they loved it there.

It just took me longer. I was heartbroken, and not a cat.

The Old Witch’s boyfriend eventually warmed up to me. I was a walking receptacle for every joke I’d ever heard, and one night I just got started and had him in stitches for hours. The vast majority of those jokes were racist, and sexist, and even homophobic. I can’t imagine telling them now. I can’t even imagine standing in a room where they are being told, cringing as others laugh, but at the time I delivered each perfectly, and we bonded.

Those jokes were one of my best tools for making friends. Gross.

The Son of a Witch next door and I were still on friendly terms, and it was actually really convenient that I had my own space. He would stop by on his way to and from school, (I doubt he was ever late on account of me, it did not take that long), and we would have our moment and go back to our lives.

For me that usually meant going back to sleep. If I wasn’t sleeping, I was usually working.

I really liked my coworkers, and had gotten very good at my job. What I lack in social skills I’ve always tried to make up for in competence. People like people who make their job easier, and who are clearly on their team.

I got the timing down to where I actually had some pretty big stretches at night with nothing to do. My intention was to take that time to read, but I’m super chatty.

As a result, I ended up helping the night shift CNAs quite a bit. I couldn’t do patient care, but I could pull/replace sheets and incontinent pads. I learned a lot, and found creative ways to support their roles.

I was the only person in my position, so there was nobody to make upset by doing too much. I wanted to show them how valuable I could be. I wanted to show me.

I wanted to stop being disposable. I needed to think I could change it.

My spare time on shift also meant that when someone was close to the end of their life, I could go sit with them, talk to them, sing to them, read to them, and hold their hands. I could help them take a sip of water, or wet their lips with a sponge. I could stroke their hair, and kiss their foreheads. I could tell them it was ok, and that they could go. So many had absolutely nobody else there when they took their last breath. They would have been alone.

I don’t know if it actually makes any kind of difference. Dead is Dead. They are not less dead because I was there. I sincerely hope that maybe they were a little less scared, a little less hurt, and felt a little more loved.

For so many of them it’s impossible to even guess, because they were nonverbal, or nonsensical by the end. It mattered to me.

When we care for people love grows.

I knew their stories, and their pet peeves, and their kin. I knew who couldn’t sleep, and who liked to sneak out. I knew who was trapped in time loops they couldn’t escape. I knew who had grandbabies, and greatgrandbabies, pedigreed show dogs. I knew whose parents had built the school, and who had the best recipes.

I knew who carried the triggers of a lifetime of trauma, and how something as simple as asking for consent made a big difference. I knew how eye contact reminded them that they were people, while I watched others treat them like they were inventory to be shuffled around.

It’s no shock that I asked to take the classes to become a CNA. The facility handled all of the schooling in house, which made it a pretty incredible opportunity for me.

I had gotten my GED because a friend of the Baptist Ways had hounded me since meeting me at a bible study they held during my brief stay with them. He was a local tutor, and was adamant that he would tutor me on a sliding scale. Really, I was uncomfortable with any associations with that church and didn’t want to get sucked in. They seemed very sucky.

He had me take a pretest, then he told me I wouldn’t need any tutoring, and I was ready to take the test. He also offered to pay for it, because he “didn’t want to see my potential go to waste.” I knew a GED would make me much more hirable and I needed all of the advantages I could acquire.

It was actually pretty cool. The testing was at Western Wyoming Community College, and it was the first time I stepped on campus. He drove me there, and waited in Rock Springs all day while I tested. He even bought me lunch in the overwhelming and overstimulating cafeteria.

I finished the testing early, which made him pretty nervous that I hadn’t double checked things. I wasn’t much of a double checker back in those days if I’m being completely honest. Otherwise, he was pretty thrilled at how the day had gone.

I remember it was really curious to me that he would even care. I was a runaway nobody.

Initially, he offered to pay half of it, and I told him I’d think about it, but never really felt like I had the spare money because the checks I was bouncing in my first bank account confirmed that I did not have any spare money, so I deflected, until he offered to pay for all of it. I still hesitated because I really didn’t want to have to owe anybody anything.

It was bad enough that I was already owing the bank periodically, not to mention those bouncy check fees. In my lack of financial literacy, I was also unaware that they could try multiple times to cash the same check, and that those rubber banking fees would be applied each time, AND that there were ALSO fees at the place of business.

I was learning though. I just didn’t have money.

So, the offer of a free GED that I just had to show up for seemed like something it would be foolish to say no to.

A CNA class that I didn’t have to travel to Rock Springs to take, that would increase my pay, and my value in the workplace seemed equally opportune. I hadn’t counted on being able to have a professional credential, and I was really glad I’d already done the GED to get this job in the first place.

The class was starting in January. Maybe things were going to turn up. Maybe I just had a rough year getting my feet on the ground. Maybe I could really do this, and I wasn’t just going to die on the streets.

I was still grieving my marriage. I was still heartbroken, but I was confident the door was shut, and there was no way I would allow myself to continue to feel how I felt crawling across the floor of my cabin in the lingerie he had bought me.

Mom had told me nobody would ever pick me, and that nobody would ever love me. Mom said that they would only say they loved me to get what they wanted, and that I was dumb enough to think that meant something.

I still called her regularly, hoping time or distance might heal what I couldn’t. It didn’t. I went through a lot of phone cards. She never budged. She really loved that my marriage had fallen apart, and did not miss the opportunity to tell me that my dumb ass should just come home, where they HAVE to take me whether they want to or not, because I’m FAMILY, and that FAMILY was the only people who would be there when I was done with my bullshit.

I thought so many times about just not calling anymore.

BUT SHE’S YOUR MOM!

If the problem is you, there are tools to help!

The worst part was how much I missed her.

I missed the mom I had when I was little, who would dance with me for hours. I missed the mom who took us to Texas when I was 2. I missed the mom who was camp cook every time we went camping no matter how many mouths there were to feed and she seemed absolutely magical. I missed the mom who let us have white Russians (that were really milk with a splisch of Kahlua), while we played cards on camping trips. I missed the mom that planted mulberry trees in Grandpa’s front yard in defiance of everyone who told her that they wouldn’t grow in Colorado’s climate. I missed the mom that discovered that mulberries were fun to harvest, but would never turn into a jelly. She invented the best syrup. I missed the mom who loved her dogs, and knew how to groom them herself. I missed the mom that worked in the garden, and gave life to so much. I missed the mom who remodeled Grandma’s kitchen the only time Grandpa got her to leave the house for more than a day. I missed the mom that showed me how to love her babies so much. I missed the mom that welcomed me into that miracle with her. I missed the mom who sang with me, and let me cook with her. I missed the mom that showed me all of the different ways to fold diapers as those babies grew. I missed the mom who was so smart, and knew so much. I missed the mom who would watch documentaries with me, and whose sentences I finished for years. I missed the mom who couldn’t drive past a roadside produce stand (not like the peaches and chilis places you still see, but like, an ACTUAL produce stand). I missed the mom who could give any man a run for his money in absolutely anything. I missed the mom who held my hand when I was little, stroking the back with her thumb. Nothing has ever made me feel that safe since. I miss the mom who would sit on Grandma’s steps with a glass of iced tea at the end of the day, watching puppies and kids playing in the yard staining our feet with fallen mulberries. I missed the mom who could fix anything, make anything, do anything. I miss the mom who put me in guitar lessons with a beginner guitar and told me I should use my beautiful voice. I missed the mom who made mix-tapes that I still remember the track order of.

I had missed that for a long time before I left though.

I missed having a sense of home. I missed familiar places.

I missed my grandparents. I still called Grandma sometimes. I tried talking to Grandpa a few times but he just acted like he couldn’t hear me and handed me back to Grandma. He never sounded happy to hear from me. At least he didn’t hang up. Grandma never had too much to say, but she’d fill me in on current events in the family.

That’s how I knew that my brother was about to become a Dad. Mom and Grandpa were busy getting ready for the first Great-grandbaby. Apparently, one cousin had also knocked someone up, but he was still in the Navy, and nobody had ever met her. Sounded like there was drama about it, so they all focused on my brother’s baby. My other cousin was still with the loser she’d been with before I left. I get to call him a loser because he tried to hook up with me when I was 17. It didn’t happen, but not because he wasn’t trying. Nevertheless, Mom and Grandpa were busy getting them appliances and stuff because they got their own place. The girls were doing well, and mom had gotten them ducks to raise that became their central focus. Out of all of it, I was the only disappointment.

I still missed them. I still believed I just needed to become good enough to earn their approval. I hated that I was tainted, but feeling like a lost cause is also freeing.

Every time I made contact I was reminded that they expected me to fail. I failed at my marriage. I failed at several jobs. I was failing financially. They expected me to fail, and for them to have to save me while I groveled to them and admitted how wrong I was. Going back would have killed the last pieces of me that I was holding on to, so I just took it.

I believed I deserved it.

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