Sunday, September 4, 2011

Letter to the Editor ~ Homelessness Revisited

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(published in New Era Nov 2010)

Homelessness can be defined many ways by different people. Oregon’s Ending Homelessness Advisory Council’s definition of homelessness includes those who: “…share the housing of other persons due to loss of housing, economic hardship, personal safety, or a similar reason.” It is these definitions that help local agencies determine who gets services.
Recently my two children and I became homeless, displaced and transient. It happens to a lot of people in life. In our situation it was due to an impending divorce. Almost immediately I started rallying together whatever resources I could to try and make a break from the situation. I needed to know what to do next; because what was being offered seemed neither reasonable nor healthy. By most standards I am educated, capable and employable; so I could eventually rebuild a life for my two kids and I. Part of what complicated the issue was not just the children collectively, but I have a son who is partially blind and disabled. So I started making lists as to what all I needed to do to get us out of this situation. So I started calling friends, family members, church members and associates to see what ideas could be put together. Most of our family lived down South, so we were lacking in a local support network.

In the midst of this I mentioned to one of friends that the kids and I might have to possibly stay at The Hope Center here in town, or maybe somewhere in Albany. After more than a few conversations the friend and her husband made the offer for the three of us to rent a room from them. I was so hurt and depleted because of the circumstances that I took them up on their offer; and spent the next few days crying myself to sleep. I was happy we had not been relegated to living in our small car. However, as a mom needing to provide for her two children I felt that the temporary solution, however welcomed, still left us in a very vulnerable and precarious position. Local resource agencies that I contacted for help classified the three of us as being homeless. It was very hard to hear. Words like displaced and transient are perhaps a bit more palatable to accept in this scenario; yet the word homeless was still what each organization said. It was scary to realize that very little separated us from being on the streets; and it was sobering that it could all shift very quickly and without notice. It was only ten years ago, right after Jordan had been injured, we had lived in shelters for six months; and now the memories of such came flooding back.

As individuals we may have different ideas of what it means to be homeless. It is almost as if we think of homelessness in terms of levels. Some levels we are comfortable with, like displaced and transient; and other levels make us uncomfortable. I am not sure that there should be varying degrees of homeless. Our experience has been humbling, stringent and confining. After all, my children and I did not ask for this to happen; and that is true of the bulk of homeless situations. The question then is: should my kids and I have to be living under a bridge in order to get care and compassion? Of course the answer is no.

I write all of this, not just to help people redefine their ideas of homelessness, but also to get people to extend themselves to homeless people regardless of which level of homelessness they occupy. Positions like what my children and I experienced happen a lot more frequently than most people are willing to admit. The homeless are not only living in cars and under bridges; they sometimes have jobs and stand in line next to you at the grocery store.

Only a few weeks back I had notified our pastor that I wanted to be part of the team of volunteers that would be helping down at The Hope Center; and now weeks later my kids and I are struggling with the same needs and fears as other homeless people. We now rely on a handful of dear friends and many strangers. Some people have been very warm and supportive. But some people have told me not to tell people that we are homeless. I guess I should be embarrassed to admit such a thing. That sounds like pride; and pride has no place in this circumstance. Hopefully people will remember that the next time they encounter a homeless person and they are tempted to turn away. Pride and “keeping up appearances” actually helps to facilitate people becoming homeless in the first place.

We became homeless; and it was not of our own making. We needed help; but so too does every other homeless person out there in our community. Perhaps my daughter, my disabled son and I give atypical faces to homelessness; and if homelessness can happen to us then it can happen to anyone.

I would love it if we as a community would shift all of our preconceived ideas of what we think it means to be homeless and just love on those who are. If enough wonderful people in Sweet Home lend a hand to their neighbors or even contact City Council as to how they can help, we as a community can make a difference.

“Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold” Andre Maurois

Let me know how you are doing.

Michelle










(Also being marketed in Internationally in countries like Japan, Sweden, Finland, Germany...!!!)

A portion of the proceeds from novel help support local women's shelters





If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).


Born to unusual, but nice, parents, Michelle/Shelby grew up rather uneventfully, living mainly in the deep south (Alabama). Later she would learn that it was her parents' love for her that not only brought them together, but had kept them together. And so life was ideal in many respects and distressing in others. Eventually though the family did scatter like leaves on an autumn morning. Fortunately she was able to extract a sincere appreciation for love, beauty, and an abiding respect for those who at least try.

The single greatest influence in her life was the remarkable time spent with her paternal grandmother;  it was under this influence that she thrived. Her grandmother introduced her to not only fine Literature, but also the Arts and the Opera. And it was beloved grandmother who told her that if she wanted to be a great writer she must first learn to be an avid reader.

Early adult life would be peppered with indecision, failings, and the haunting of things not learned in childhood. But as is the case with most sincere artist, out of the angst of life came a great capacity for creativity.

Shelby considers her writing a gift...a joy, a tremendous responsibility, and something that helps to define her life.
Ms. Anderson is a graduate of Oregon State University; and is also currently working on a master's degree.

She lives in very picturesque Central Oregon with her two children.



...Letting Go






(Also being marketed in Internationally in countries like Japan, Sweden, Finland, Germany...!!!)

A portion of the proceeds from novel help support local women's shelters



If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).






...having a love you can't hold onto is a fairly common theme in life...i just watched "Becoming Jane"...and what if she had been happily married...and yet her marriage caused grief...would she have become the same jane austen to have written 6 of the best written, most touching stories in all of literature? who knows? i have had love like that...the ones that are better to have let go, than pursued...it's eleven years later...so maybe enough time has passed to say that i loved someone who was better to have left alone...the pain of it so mirrors the deepest pain in my life...that i have been unable to even approach the subject in the last eleven years...later this year...and into next year my first novel is coming out...it is fiction, but based on a true story...only there was a part of the story i couldn't tell, even under the cloak of being fictionalized...
i loved a man in 2000...a man i had known over 20 years, and yet didn't really know at all...i had been so sweet on him...for so long...that he was probably the only guy with the power to completely "undo" me...and in the end he did undo me...those of us who write are spurned on by great love...and great tragedy...polite company hates to hear this, but he was a great love...but how do you admit loving a man who could hurt your child...?and i don't mean just slap or spank your kid...i mean cause your child to come close to death...what kind of barrier must that be to loving someone?...
few people can grasp what that feel like...heck, just talking about it makes people fighting mad...but i did love him...i remember the day i met him...i remember almost every time of ever having encountered him...i remember wanting him to be the first guy i ever kissed, or dated, or even had sex with...he was none of those things...but i remember wanting him to be...and even through the years i would wonder what he was up to...wonder if he had ever had a crush on me...and wonder why there was this gulf that kept us from being able to fall in love and grow old together...and now in light of how things turned out...with most people thinking he was a monster...does it make me one too because i loved him? i know that it doesn't...but it all still just hurts...in 2000...this friend...this guy that i thought i had been sweet on since junior high almost killed my son...my son was only 7 months old
can you imagine what that felt like?...it wasn't like we had a fight...or one of us cheated on the other...instead i take my son to the hospital for what i think is pneumonia...and less that a week later this guy...that i loved...is arrested for being the one to have crushed my son's skull...that isn't something anyone could ever get past...
and with everything that followed then i have to just instantly stop loving him...i mean he reached monster status...and we just don't love monsters do we? how could i ever admit that i loved this guy?
it was all just a bit much to process...my son almost died...for pity's sake he was an infant...extracting my emotions from having ever loved this guy was a nightmare...
my son is now 11...he is partially blind, walks with a limp, has seizures, is developmentally delayed/mildly retarded, and has autism...i have a daily reminder...a beautiful, disabled...reminder...that i once loved a person most people want dead...its such an odd, odd position to have ever been in.


Let me know how you are doing.

Michelle



If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).


Born to unusual, but nice, parents, Michelle/Shelby grew up rather uneventfully, living mainly in the deep south (Alabama). Later she would learn that it was her parents' love for her that not only brought them together, but had kept them together. And so life was ideal in many respects and distressing in others. Eventually though the family did scatter like leaves on an autumn morning. Fortunately she was able to extract a sincere appreciation for love, beauty, and an abiding respect for those who at least try.

The single greatest influence in her life was the remarkable time spent with her paternal grandmother;  it was under this influence that she thrived. Her grandmother introduced her to not only fine Literature, but also the Arts and the Opera. And it was beloved grandmother who told her that if she wanted to be a great writer she must first learn to be an avid reader.

Early adult life would be peppered with indecision, failings, and the haunting of things not learned in childhood. But as is the case with most sincere artist, out of the angst of life came a great capacity for creativity.

Shelby considers her writing a gift...a joy, a tremendous responsibility, and something that helps to define her life.
Ms. Anderson is a graduate of Oregon State University; and is also currently working on a master's degree.

She lives in very picturesque Central Oregon with her two children.

Approval Addiction


...ever reach a point where you can no longer stomach something? I am there...and it is curious because some days are good...and some hard...but today I can bear it no longer... it is hard when you have gone most of your life between being a doormat and a royal "beehive"...especially when in reality you are always somehwere in the middle...assertive is good...but when you are not practiced at it you might feel that you will explode when confronted/or required to confront...

...but the truth is you won't expolde...and assertiveness is better than being a doormat...and much better than being a "beehive"...

...I am in a very difficult position...and sadly have to confront someone who is very immature, volitile and full of pride...but what I am learning about assertiveness is that we are not responsible for how someone views us...we are however responsible for putting proper boundaries around ourselves...being respectful...and being responsible...none of which requires that we take on other poeple's issues...it bends and sometimes breaks us when we have to measure wat we say...walk on egg shells...or have to spoon feed people...especailly the immature, volitile and those full of pride.

I don't want to marry you...I am not confortable with this situation...I don't want to have sex with you...things like this have always been hard on me...why? freakin approval addiction...it was crippling...

But it is true...there comes a time when the only person you can for approval is yourself...that's a very scary and unnerving day.

Let me know how you are doing.

Michelle






(Also being marketed in Internationally in countries like Japan, Sweden, Finland, Germany...!!!)

A portion of the proceeds from novel help support local women's shelters














If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).


Born to unusual, but nice, parents, Michelle/Shelby grew up rather uneventfully, living mainly in the deep south (Alabama). Later she would learn that it was her parents' love for her that not only brought them together, but had kept them together. And so life was ideal in many respects and distressing in others. Eventually though the family did scatter like leaves on an autumn morning. Fortunately she was able to extract a sincere appreciation for love, beauty, and an abiding respect for those who at least try.

The single greatest influence in her life was the remarkable time spent with her paternal grandmother;  it was under this influence that she thrived. Her grandmother introduced her to not only fine Literature, but also the Arts and the Opera. And it was beloved grandmother who told her that if she wanted to be a great writer she must first learn to be an avid reader.

Early adult life would be peppered with indecision, failings, and the haunting of things not learned in childhood. But as is the case with most sincere artist, out of the angst of life came a great capacity for creativity.

Shelby considers her writing a gift...a joy, a tremendous responsibility, and something that helps to define her life.
Ms. Anderson is a graduate of Oregon State University; and is also currently working on a master's degree.

She lives in very picturesque Central Oregon with her two children.

Audacity and More


If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).


Born to unusual, but nice, parents, Michelle/Shelby grew up rather uneventfully, living mainly in the deep south (Alabama). Later she would learn that it was her parents' love for her that not only brought them together, but had kept them together. And so life was ideal in many respects and distressing in others. Eventually though the family did scatter like leaves on an autumn morning. Fortunately she was able to extract a sincere appreciation for love, beauty, and an abiding respect for those who at least try.

The single greatest influence in her life was the remarkable time spent with her paternal grandmother;  it was under this influence that she thrived. Her grandmother introduced her to not only fine Literature, but also the Arts and the Opera. And it was beloved grandmother who told her that if she wanted to be a great writer she must first learn to be an avid reader.

Early adult life would be peppered with indecision, failings, and the haunting of things not learned in childhood. But as is the case with most sincere artist, out of the angst of life came a great capacity for creativity.

Shelby considers her writing a gift...a joy, a tremendous responsibility, and something that helps to define her life.
Ms. Anderson is a graduate of Oregon State University; and is also currently working on a master's degree.

She lives in very picturesque Central Oregon with her two children.

*********************************************************************************


...I was not born in the South...unless you count Southern California as the South...lol...but in the true South are found many wonderful traditions...saying "yes m'am...and please and thank you..." and great cooking...and incredible thunderstorms...but between the pleasantries is one tradition the South could do without...in relation to domestic abuse they tend not to talk about it...which...sadly perpetuates it. Between 1999 and 2001 the kids and I were in women's shelters no less than 3 times. Looking back the best thing that can be said is that at least there women's shelters to go to in the area. That is the best and the worst that can be said.
I started back to college from a shelter. My children spent close to two years growing up in a shelter. The first time we were in a shelter my son, Jordan, was only 6 weeks old. It was an odd way for them to grow up; and yet if there had been no shelters their lives would have been even worse. One of the challenges for women in that position getting help is when abuse is discounted, excused and facilitated. Since people in the South are relatively mannerly this can happen a lot down there. I sat at a many times with a lady who had been belittled, hit and humiliated by her husband and refused to tell his family or hers because it wasn't the polite southern thing to do. She came and went a couple of times during the times we were there. The last time she had been so severly beaten that she had soiled herself all over her kitchen floor. That same week her son had been accepted in to medical school and family was coming for a visit. She was more concerned with the friends and family coming for a visit, and not revealing her abuse, than she was concerned with securing a safe place. And her situation wasn't even as extreme as some.
But that is the point...there shouldn't be varying degrees of abuse...being cussed at and threatened on a regular basis is as abusive as having the hell beat out of you. In fact many times women in the shelter said they would rather have the daylights beat out of them, because that would heal, rather than to be cussed and threatened.
The yardstick shouldn't be "other people's opinions" but rather that which makes a woman feel unsafe.
I had the added joy of dealing with the fact that my ex was liked by my family...and is even liked as of today. How is that possible? Partly because "good 'ol boys" are excused in the South. Partly because no one wanted to deal squarely with the entire dysfunctional dynamic. And partly because it is easier to not get involved.
I do think that some abusive people can read something like this and be shamed into thinking about their behaviors...but most will not. If hurting people, hurt people then abusers are the most hurting of all.
It would be interesting for my family to find out that admist the terror of yelling, cussing, threats, throwing things and whatever else that was spewed from my ex husband...never once came an apology...he always pointed out what he was "made to do". I could tell he had been abused...but that never got dealt with...at least not in the scope of our relationship.
Why should I care? I share two incredible kids with this man.
Some of my family made my life a living hell by not believing that he was abusive. The chasm of which had yet to be bridged. Why? because I could not be taught that lovliest of Southern traits of turning a blind eye to his abusive nature.
I am grateful to Penelope House in Mobile, Alabama for cutting through the crap and "being there".


Let me know how you are doing.

Michelle






(Also being marketed in Internationally in countries like Japan, Sweden, Finland, Germany...!!!)

A portion of the proceeds from novel help support local women's shelters



If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).