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A moment of clarity...

Congratulations on your job, going home, and having a great time just being you. You really deserve it; you are doing all of the right things. I am sorry that my feelings bled across the phone so intensely. I am really very happy for you, despite how I sounded. You sounded so happy, like you were definitely headed in the right direction. And then, I sucked the fun out of that, with my unhappiness. I am sorry about that. I was having a hard time understanding how you were being successful, and happy and I wasn't having any luck at either.

In writing this, I tried to sort out my feelings, and hoped once they were clarified to pass them on to you. After writing all of this, I felt silly because it came to me. You are happy because you are doing it. You are loving me quietly, only in the background while getting on with the rest of your life. I am not doing this. Simple as that; all I have to do is push my love for you into the background, secure that it is safe, and move on and do. (Had to put it in a different color because it is that important to me.) Sometimes I make things so much more complicated than they need to be. I know that I really didn't need to share any of this, giant essay included, with you, but thought that I would; it is kind of a big deal to me; one of those moments of clarity that I don't let into my life too often.

I know the person that I want to be, I can see her, smell her, I have been able to for a long time. Coincidentally, she is the person you catch a glimmer of all too infrequently; she is the person that you fell in love with and still love. I thought that I was on the right track two years ago when I went to Louisiana and I met you. I still think that was the right track, just ill timing; neither of us were ready.

I want to be with you; that is not going to change. But, that is not all that I want. There is so much more that I want to do in life that I know of, and so much that I haven't yet discovered. I want to write, to create, to travel, to be admired, to be successful … so many things, and I want to do them with you; some of them anyway. You are a piece of the puzzle, that I am sure. It is hard not to cling to the one known piece when every other piece is so totally unknown. I am sorry that I do this to you sometimes; it makes it hard for you to focus on the work your own work.

I need to find the other pieces, this I know, and begin doing them without you, before I can even think of doing any of them with you; this is the step I forget sometimes in my nostalgia for you, for us. Even though it wasn't good because all of the other pieces were missing, making me unhappy, at least the one piece was there; now I don't have any pieces that fit, only the vague hope that if I look very hard for all of the other pieces and they slowly begin to fall into place, then I will again have the piece that is you.

So why can't I find all of the missing pieces? Because I am focused on what my life will be like once, no if, you come back? Maybe. No probably. And I am afraid. But being afraid is only going to hold me back. Aren't you afraid? Ever? Not of loosing me, but of anything at all? I am so afraid that you will forget me once you go to New Hampshire. I don't want to feel this way, but that doesn't change the fact that I do. I am angry and hurt that you do not want to share this with me; selfish, childish, faulty, I know. But it is how I feel, and I am allowed to feel that way. I realize the illogical nature of my feelings, but it doesn't change that I feel them. I need time away from you, in part, to not feel these things.

Even though I have these feelings realize that I know we need the time apart to grow. I know that time apart is what is needed. Realize that your New Hampshire is my You; it is a part, an important part, of what you know that you want, the rest may be shit, but at least you know that that is a piece of what you really, really want in life; one of the big things. This is how I feel; only I cannot have the one piece that fits right now. It doesn't feel very good.

I understand that I was not what you wanted a lot of the time, I was not happy with myself. I am searching for my missing pieces so that I can be happy, for me. Happiness with myself is what really matters. My being happy with myself is good on it's own, but also the only way I can hope of having you in my life in more than a text message/phone call capacity.

I know that I should have more faith in your love for me and my love for you, but things happen; life happens. I have been thrown for a loop too many times in the past, but it is different this time, that I know; still all of the past dashed-hopes and broken dreams play through my mind. The world is littered with stories of great loves falling apart for everyday reasons. I don't want this to happen to us. I don't think that it will any more than I think that we will wind up together in the end, but I am a worrier at my core; something else I need to change. My heart tells me that we will end up together, but my mind knows that there is a lot of work to be done in the meantime for it to work out as it should. This work must be done without you. I must become the person I need to be without you, not with you at my side. Only then can it, will it maybe be as it should.

So for now, I will go on finding my missing pieces, knowing, trying not to question that you love me, but that we both must love each other only in the background, while we each figure out how to be the people we are supposed to be alone.

This is not it

Arrrrrr! This is not it. This is not the place for me. Today has been a very frustrating day mainly because my mother treated me like I was ten years old. She made me (marched me up the stairs to not my room anymore) organize my things in a plastic set of drawers she bought specifically for the purpose. I know, I don’t have any room to complain, I am living in their house, but still, this embarrassed me and made me feel like a child. Apparently it doesn’t matter what I want; maybe I hadn’t put my things in order the way that she would have because I didn’t want to? Maybe it feels a little too permanent to have a specific spot for all of my things. But, I suppose it doesn’t really matter what I want, as long as my things are stuffed away in the closet and I am sequestered to the motorhome. Unbelievably frustrating.

I am also very tired of just being expected to do what everyone else is doing in the family. I don’t want to eat out with you every Saturday. Maybe I had something else I wanted to do? I don’t want to feed, bathe and take care of Jacob whenever you aren’t home, and it isn’t that I don’t mind; it is that I don’t want to be expected to do so. I love you and Jacob, but there is a reason I have made it almost all the way to my thirtieth birthday without having a child; I don't want to do any of this. I want my own life again. As horrible as Louisiana was, at least it was mine. I didn’t do much with it, but I had the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted.

And Ben. Ben is in New Hampshire this weekend so I am on his Do Not Call list. I get the feeling he is embarrassed of me. He could have taken me there countless times during the last two years. Why do I get the feeling that you think that I am not good enough to be a part of your life there? And now it's too much to even let your friends know you talk to me? I hate this. WTF?

I don't know if any of these things are true; I am just frustrated with my situation right now.

I miss the life that I could have had. I miss all of the missed opportunities in Louisiana. I miss Ben. I miss me.

méprisable

Why do people want to go to New Orleans anyway? I have thought about this a lot, and still haven’t come up with an answer; I suppose there isn’t just one answer, people will have their own unique reasons. My reason was that I wanted to be a part of something bigger, something exciting. New Orleans was on the world’s stage after Hurricane Katrina, and everyone was watching. I wanted to be one of the watched. I wanted to be one of the founders of the new, better New Orleans, the envy of the world.

But this didn’t happen. There are so many things that I think of even now that could have been so exciting and admirable to have done while I was there. One of my biggest ideas that I didn’t even attempt to begin was trying to convince McSweeney’s to open a writing center, similar to 826 Valencia for children in New Orleans. I think this would be a wonderful addition to any city, and I could have been one of the founders, one of the people who thought of this idea. I would have admired me.

But, I never even moved past the “Hey, this would be a good idea” phase. Why, there was too much and nothing going on at the same time. New Orleans sucks the energy and life in general out of me. It is so hard to do something as simple as going to the grocery store. There were 36 before the storm, and to date, only 9 have reopened. It is depressing to drive anywhere; sinkholes, falling down buildings, garbage, people loitering not doing a damn thing to make their city better, all of these things weighed on me so heavily. New Orleans didn’t deserve an 826.

I didn’t even realize how depressed I was until I left; of course I knew I was depressed, my doctor, boyfriend and psychiatrist all confirmed this fact. But why? It was the city. It is so utterly depressing to live there. People have horrible attitudes. Everyone drives like an asshole. People steal from you; my favorite running shoes were stolen from my front porch, I had left them there because I didn’t want to get grass on my living room floor.

Before leaving the city I listed my two vintage motel chairs on Craigslist because they wouldn’t have survived the trek across the country atop a Jeep. They were two of my favorite things. Emily answered my post and fell in love with the chairs. I immediately liked her, and was sad that I was leaving because she was someone I would have liked to have made friends with; but she tricked me, she was not the good person she seemed to be. She came right over to look, and we arranged for me to deliver them to her house and her to pay for them the following day. I delivered. She didn’t answer the door. Later she emailed and said she would leave the payment in my mailbox; she never did. I trusted her and she failed me; it is such a simple thing, but this becomes magnified; this is what is wrong with the city.

New Orleanians are a bunch I do not like. With the exception of two people, all of the people that I developed genuine friendships with were transplants to the city like me. New Orleanians are harsh, rough people brought down by lifetimes spent in the uncongenial city. Nasty people, atrocious weather, unbelievable crime, energy prices that make you feel as though you have been raped each time you turn the air conditioner on, corruption running rampant; why would anyone want to live there. Oh, and the half of everything being written/spoken in Frech; very annoying. Nouvelle-Orléans aurait dû noyer.

Continued Red Cross Training

Night Two of Red Cross Training; over two years ago now:

On the second night of Red Cross training, we all took the same seats as the evening before, and continued the awkward conversations from the evening before waiting for the class to begin. The big difference this time was that most of us had prepared for the stifling hot room as we hadn't the night before. This preparation included shorts and bottles of water. The instructors began the class by telling us that the national Red Cross office had specifically asked that our training be switched to Family Services training rather than the Shelter Simulation we were scheduled to take. I don't know how the class really felt about this; I think that most people were kind of confused as to everything going on, and not really feeling as if they had learned anything; at least this is how I felt, maybe I shouldn't speak for the group? The instructors seemed to be kind of sad that they weren't going to get to put on a Shelter Simulation; after all, they kept referring to this as the "fun part of the training."

So you're probably asking yourself what exactly Family Services does within the Red Cross. I was wondering the same thing. Well, you know those Red Cross debit/credit cards that are in the news? Well we were trained on Wednesday how to fill out all of the appropriate paperwork, determine the amount each client (the Red Cross calls all of the people it helps clients, which I think is a nice touch), and activate the cards for each recipient.

This seems like a lot of power to give people who have been trained for barely four hours but we are actually just form-filler-out monkeys. The amount of money that the people receive is not just decided willy-nilly by some retired teacher or a college student volunteering for the disaster. There is a formula that differs for each disaster and each location that determines how much money the client receives. For example, there are three adults in the household, and all of them have lost their clothes. The chart says that for each adult, the Red Cross will provide $130. So for the three adults this is $390. And so on, and so on...

I remember those being the actual amounts we were told during training. However, I remember that during Katrina some clients received $3000+ on their debit cards. Though this was not my responsibility during the disaster (despite my training) I had several people tell me this.

Red Cross volunteers were also issued the same debit cards (though they were imprinted with Disaster Staff or something similar) to use as a stipend. An amount was placed on the cards every three weeks, or once if you only lasted your initial deployment, to help pay for all of life's necessities: food, gas, toiletries. We were supposed to use the remainder of our balance during our trip home and then destroy the card once we were safe at home. I kept mine. It is still in my wallet. It makes me remember my time in Louisiana.

This may not really seem like a lot of money for new clothes, but the Red Cross only attends to immediate needs (those that need to be met within fifteen days). For all other needs, the Red Cross refers people to different agencies such as the Mennonites and the Salvation Army. It is actually pretty interesting.

On top of our official positions as pencil pushing drones, we are supposed to be a part of the grieving process for the clients. From what the trainers told us, many of the people within the shelters are still in shock. Because of this they are not thinking about things like getting new clothes. We are supposed to be kind of bringing them back to reality by asking questions to help them begin to move on. Some of the questions are things like "What are your plans for a home in the future?" This is going to be awfully rough on the people, and the volunteers I have a feeling.

Additionally we are supposed to be on the look out for people who need some mental help. We are often the people who catch this, the instructors told us.

So we learned how to fill out forms etc, now what? At the end of class, we had to go through a short five question verbal pseudo interview. The questions were basically the same as those we answered the first evening of class. After answering we were handed little Red Cross cards for our wallets listing the courses we had completed. As of Wednesday evening I am certified by the Red Cross in:

• Sheltering
• Mass Care: An Overview
• Introduction to Disaster Services
• Family Services: Providing Emergency Assistance

Even though I attended all of the training I still am unprepared to do any of these things. I am sure that this is natural and that most of the people in the class feel like this, but it is still a little overwhelming to know that I am certified to help people in the hardest time of their lives. I guess that that is something you really cant be prepared for. I think most of it has to be learned when you get to the area you are helping in.

While I was working on the disaster, I was also certified in several other things. I can't find my cards at the moment, but know that I went through all of the supervisor training, and am now qualified to be a supervisor, despite having acted as one for the last six months of my deployment, an ECRV class, and extensive RTT training in Austin, Texas where I learned how to work in every aspect of Response Technology including setting up a satellite for Internet service, wiring a network, deploying a server, customer service, CAC, and basically every other thing you could possibly think of doing technology wise on a disaster.

Now this is what is supposed to happen next:

• The Red Cross calls within twenty four hours of your leaving, informing you of your location, what you need to bring, etc.
• You go to the Red Cross and pick up a packet with an airline ticket and a fifty dollar Red Cross credit card.
• You board the plane and fly to your location.
• You train at your job in your destination for a day or so with someone who is currently doing the job.
• You work your three weeks, either sleeping in a hotel or the shelter, depending on resources.
• You come home.

Now all I have to do is wait.

Looking back; Day One of Red Cross Disaster Response Training

I have been a bit under the weather, trying to kick what is trying to turn into bronchitis, so I haven't felt too creative. Anyway, here is a look back on my first night of Red Cross Disaster Response training. This originally appeared on my other blog in mid-September 2005, a few days following Hurricane Katrina.

So I went to the first night of Red Cross training all excited to learn things that I should already know like CPR and First Aid. The classes are currently being held in a giant local church. When we all arrived in class (fifty or so of us I guess, with the majority being part of the retired set), we were handed a giant packet of forms to fill out and a name tag with our names still smelly from the Sharpie used to write them. Some of the paperwork contained in the ginormous packet resembled a job application. Some of the documents asked the filler-outer if they had things like stitches (doesn't win you points when trying to volunteer for a disaster I'm guessing). But most of the packet papers were for purposes that I am still not sure of. The mystery forms had spots for signatures and all of the codes written up on the giant white board for us to use on our mystery forms.

Anyway, once the commotion of the form filling out was finished, we were treated to a decade-old video about the Red Cross's role in helping those in need hosted by William Baldwin (you know the devilishly handsome one with the eyes). This movie was an excruciating hour and a half long. It wouldn't have been so bad if the room wasn't stiflingly hot and the television smaller than the one in my living room. Plus, popcorn and adult beverages were not offered. I can honestly say that I didn't learn a thing from this video.

After the hell of this video, we were allowed to take a half hour dinner break in the much cooler outdoors. Upon return to the classroom we watched videos about how to set up a shelter, and how to feed massive amounts of people. These videos were a bit more exciting, but did use quite a few clips from the Billy Baldwin video.

As the evening closed we were told that we would finish our course on sheltering and then move on to an actual Shelter Simulation which would take most of the next night's five hour class. (Oh, I forgot to mention that this class was five hours long. With the implementation of the horrid movies, this is enough to make even the most patient of people start to act like ADD-afflicted three year olds.)

Oh, and I didn't learn a skip of First Aid or spend any quality time with Resusci Anne. :(

More after tomorrow's festivities.