The Christmas Crash

It happens to me every year and seems to get more and more pronounced as I get older.

On Christmas day, I am hit with excruciating, agonizing pain that is centered along the middle of my rib cage  just below the heart and above the solar plexus. I think it is located between two chakras. Sometimes it feels like somebody is hitting me, repeatedly, in the stomach. Yesterday, it was more like a 5-inch stiletto heal was  being pushed and poked deeper and deeper into my body. Luckily, yesterday, it didn't hit me until about 1:30 in the afternoon. Only a few hours of primal screaming and howling and I only had to hold myself back from committing suicide a couple of times. A successful Christmas, really.

For the past few years, I have felt it best to be locked up, away from everybody else, so that I don't ruin their holiday, too. Right now, being homeless and in a town 2000 miles away from my closest relative, that isn't difficult to achieve. However, now we are all connected by Facebook and other forms of social media. So, I can still be a cybernetic buzz-kill, if I so choose.

As I do, every year, yesterday I tried to dig into the pain to determine its origin. I know it goes beyond the expected "mother never loved me and drunk daddy left when I was 5-years-old" bullshit. I know it isn't about being poor, or being mistreated and forced to do housework on the holiday. I also know it isn't just about feeling lonely and isolated from family. It is all of those things, and more. Over the years, I have tried to create my own traditions and joy, like the new-age "happiness-is-where-we-put-our-intention" people say. I have accepted kind invitations to join in with friends and their families on Christmas, but that usually is just a reminder to me that I am a tourist in somebody else's  holiday. Doesn't matter how kind they are or how magical their family tries to make the day. And, I have beaten myself up for not being able to enjoy their generosity, "like I should". My sisters gave up on me, long ago. For some reason, they have been able to forget the past and create happy new traditions and I applaud their efforts.

I may have gotten closer to discovering the cause of my pain, yesterday, and it goes like this: When I was in my teens, I showed up at my grandmother and great aunt Esther's home, unannounced, on Christmas day, to wish them a merry you-know-what. When I got there, I saw a beautiful tree was all set up, and underneath it were more presents than I had seen in years. Grandma accepted my good will but informed me that my my Aunt Theresa, Uncle Bob and my cousins Susan and Beth, were to be arriving any minute, and I had better leave, so that they could have lunch. In short, none of the gifts were for me or my sisters and I was not good enough to join my own relatives for the holiday. (I even remember feeling that I was superficial for wanting one of those presents) My mother's tantrums and cruel behavior had ostracized us from my own grandmother and aunt. So, I had to go back to my mother's house, where I would be forced to do more housework and feel jealous that my younger sister was able to spend the day with her boyfriend's family, who always gave her a stocking loaded down with gifts. Christmas was (and is) a reminder that I was not loved, and had never been loved, and that my presence was not wanted by those that I loved. I try and remember if my sisters were with me on that day, or if it was my friend, Bo, accompanying me (since he could drive and had a car). I can''t recall. Maybe my sisters don't feel the annual grief that I feel because they were not there. Or, maybe they were and have either suppressed the memory or did not come to the same grim conclusions that I had. I try to remember, but I can't.

Perhaps, now that I have committed this memory to my blog, I can finally be healed?

Where Do I Begin?

I don't even know how to start to describe what has happened in the past few weeks, since my last blog post. Mold has changed my life. Mold has left me homeless and jobless. Mold has brought me back to New Mexico.

Leaving the job was probably for the best, though.  I was working for a Draconian company, anyway, that did not care about its employees. This company used the "shame and blame" method of motivation. Actually had "demerits" and wrote people up for mistakes. Mistakes that were often caused by poor management, desperate to save their own asses. A company steeped in fear, who mostly hired regimented people who lived in fear. I was terrifically saddened when I learned that one of my favorite co-workers turned out to be a two-faced suck-up, who applauded my absence. He was bound and determined to keep his job and distance himself from me, even though we had great conversations every day of the week and I felt a true kinship with him. Human nature. I suppose I'll never understand why people do the things they do.

After I had to leave the mold-free motel room I occupied for 9 days, I stayed with a generous friend for a couple of weeks. But, his old home had its own mold problem and the mold coming into my workplace combined to make me weaker and weaker by the day. When I finally left his home to drive to the desert, I was so sickened that I could not walk up a flight of stairs without taking a lengthy rest. The only choice left was to drive West, and fast. Thank God I finally have a car. I want to thank my friend, though, for helping me in so many ways. He repaired my car, carried my belongings and packed when I was too stricken to do it myself. I'll never be able to thank him enough for his support and kindness. I hope he is blessed in his life.

I felt tremendous joy when I drove across the Pennsylvania state line and said goodbye to the place that held me in exile for 16 months. Yes, I was supported along the way by several people. Yes, I am happy I got to see the town where I grew up as it exists, today. But, more and more, I understood why i was so miserable there years ago. I simply don't fit in and could not make myself compromise my beliefs in order to be accepted by most of the folks with whom I came into contact. I am glad I got to see my mother for (what I hope is) the final time, before she dies. My last words to her, however, were "Drive your car with your ass!" - after she became belligerent with me while I tried to buckle her seat-belt and drive her to the Social Security office. I walked away and threw her the keys. No need to put up with that abuse, any more.

On my journey, I spent several days in North Carolina, with dear friends. One of whom, I hadn't seen in 29 years. I was stunned to learn he has been battling cancer for four years and that his wife has been dealing with a neurological spinal problem but amazed by their courage and willingness to lead as normal a life, as possible. It took forever to drive through Tennessee. That is one long, skinny state. In Oklahoma, I stopped at a strange little place called the National Shrine of the Infant Jesus of Prague, in Prague, OK. At first, I thought it would be kitschy, but it turned out to feel quite holy. And, a lone devotee, kneeling in the first pew, had such an expression of ecstasy on his face, I could only feel uplifted by the experience.

In Texas, I was caught in a speed trap and lied to, by a state trooper, who trumped up a ticket for me. There was no way I was traveling 85 miles an hour in that 75 mph zone. I'll have to fight that ticket. Before I left Texas, however, I had run out of money and wound up spending a freezing night in the car. I was thankful that mother made me put a thermal reflective blanket in my glove compartment. It kept me warm at that rest stop. The next morning, I was thrilled to find $705 deposited into my bank account - my last paycheck from my job. I was able to be on my way and afford gas and eat one meal a day in a half-decent restaurant.

And, now that money is dwindling down. I have reached my temporary (?) destination, and applied for public assistance. I have driven to a town 70 miles away and learned that I may qualify to work as an adjunct professor at the community college. I am staying in a very small motel room with heat and a nice, long bathtub just perfect for soaking. I found healing hot springs where I relaxed and had the minerals pull some of the toxins out of my body. And, tomorrow, I drive 3 hours to Taos, where I will see the doctor I visited in 2010 who initially diagnosed me with "toxic spore inhalation". He will run some tests to find out exactly what spores I am allergic to.

Things have been working out, I meet people who help me along the way and I have enough money for a few more days. Trying not to lose faith. But, fear of the unknown is pretty powerful. So, I'm just focusing on the present moment and trying not to be too scared.