Writing and Learning

One thing I love about life is that there is always more to learn. Textbooks, history books, even fiction novels have something to teach us. Possibly the most important lesson I've learned so far is that, despite efforts to help, there will never be enough support for those in need. Homeless shelters will never be empty.There will always be a large number of unwanted children in the foster system or orphanages. And domestic violence shelters will always have a waiting list.

A few weeks ago, I interviewed a woman who manages a domestic violence shelter. She told me that even with federal money and private donations, the shelter is always in need. That the women and children living there, and on the waiting list, will always have to go without something or other because sometimes just feeding them is tough. So I took a list from her, a list of things they're always in need of. Besides the obvious things like business clothes, casual clothes, toiletries, and feminine products, they're looking for childhood items. As an example we laughed over, what kid wants to eat Cheerios instead of sugary Frosted Flakes? Drink water over apple juice?

The items many people fail to consider are the items shelters are in most need of. The food that has a short shelf life. Milk, bread, juice, fruit. So many people donate canned goods and pasta that they have overloads of those items and not simple things to mix the routine up a bit, like taco seasoning or boxed cake mixes and frosting.

So if you're thinking about donating clothes or anything you don't need anymore, skip Goodwill. There are always plenty of donations for Goodwill. Instead, Google a domestic violence shelter in your area and send your donations to them. Even if it's only a bag with a few shirts and some child toys, they'll appreciate it more than a corporation will.

The US Budget Deficit

I thought I would blog on this, since it's been on my mind a lot lately. I made a Facebook status that made my family laugh, but I one that I actually believe, and it read "I think two of my aunts working together could fix this country's unbalanced budget."

My dad's two sisters are great at financial planning and never have problems with making numbers crunch the way they want them to. They always know how much they can spend on lunch or movies or a shopping trip, and rarely do they allow themselves to overspend (unless those sales are amazing).

It makes me wonder how the people elected for these positions, elected for their "skills" (I use quotes because I honestly wonder if they have any skills at all), can sit back and have so many meetings about the problems in this country (including people living on park benches, in tents in the middle of a Michigan winter, and unable to feed their children), and yet still not reach any semblance of a conclusion or solution.

I honestly don't know how it is so very hard to shuffle money around and fix the deficit, even if it means cutting funds to some organizations. Yes, those organizations will have to also make changes, but everyone had to make changes when the economy crashed.

Does anyone have any sort of opinionated explanation for me?

Always A Country Girl

As I write, I'm sitting in my hammock in my backyard. I used some rope from the garage to string it up safely between two trees, both of which I planted as tiny saplings when I was younger. I'm very happy to report that even as close as we are to the river (about a mile, I think) there are only a few bugs bothering me.

Having a bit of firsthand experience, I started thinking about the differences between the "country" and the larger cities.

I like Grand Valley State University, where I transferred to from a community college. It's an amazing school, with helpful and (usually) understanding staff, and a beautiful landscape, as well as a great curriculum. That said, I can't wait to finish school and get out again.

You see, I'm not a city girl. I can't live in a house where my neighbors' windows are less than ten feet away, and they can look in at me if I forget to close the blinds. I have to have room to breathe, a backyard for my future kids to play, ESPECIALLY to hang my dear hammock. (Which I'm taking to school next year and somehow making it hang in my dorm room so I can sleep in it instead of the bed.)

I always knew there was a difference between the smells of my hometown and the smell of my family's campground. But now I've found there is a different smell between home and Grand Rapids. The campground definitely smells the best, with all the trees and weeds and grass and flowers... I'll stop running on now. But the city smells so... dirty. Buses run around campus all day long, in 10 minute intervals (which is excessive if you ask me). There are a LOT of smokers on campus, so every time I walk between classes I'm inhaling secondhand smoke, which pisses me off to no end. Home smells so clean, even outside. Someone in the close neighborhood always has a freshly cut lawn, so you smell the grass. When the wind blows, I can smell my mother's flowers (when they're in bloom, anyways).

I want to find a house farther into the country in this little town. I really can't imagine living anywhere else, though I would if I had to. Demonstrated by my partial relocation to a city.

But I'll make the best of it. I don't hate the city, but I could never live there. There is a certain amount of space a girl like me needs to live, for dogs, maybe a garden, hopefully a few horses. Definitely some foster kids when I get financially set.

Love to all!

Kate

A Battle Won Against Depression

Just a month ago, I was having a terrible time with college. I was completely ready to go home and take a break from it all. The homework and classes were more stressful than they were interesting, and despite my medication, I could barely find the drive to leave my dorm. My roommates were (and still are) disgustingly messy people who only started cleaning up after themselves because I royally bitched them out. On top of all that, my daily headaches had started making their way towards daily migraines.
I have wonderful online friends, but no matter how much laughter and happiness they brought me, I always lost it again when I was alone. Nothing I did seemed to work, so the more ideas failed, the farther down it felt like I was spiraling.
My social work group had a project to work on one day, and we had to travel to a local agency to conduct an interview. It was one of those mediocre days, so I was really close to telling them I had a headache and couldn’t go, but I sucked it up and forced myself out of the apartment anyways.
To say that the visit renewed my sense of purpose and reason for being is probably exaggerating tremendously for anyone on the outside. After all, how could interviewing the director of a social work related agency do much more than give a person some new perspective?
It didn’t give me a new perspective. It reminded me of the crazy dream I had somehow forgotten about in the struggle with all the negative. It reminded me that yes, my life may completely suck (on some days), but there was a point to it all and there was an end in sight. It wasn’t as cliché as a light bulb clicking on in my head, or a beam of warm light illuminating the scene before me. Hell, it didn’t even happen that very day. It took a few days of researching the agency and writing my report on it to realize what that visit had done for me.
St John’s Home is very close to what I want to do. They’ve been around for 125 years.
It has an emergency shelter for Child Protective Services to temporarily place children who have been taken from their parents. They might stay only a few hours until another family member can take them into custody, or they might have to stay up to a few months to find a foster home.
They also have a residential program, in which the students (the adults refrain from using the word “resident”, as it has an away-from-home feel to it) stay anywhere from 6 months to about 2 years; some stay longer if they have no suitable adoptive home waiting for them. The goal of the program is to treat their behavioral, mental, etc. problems and get them ready for life in a family setting, whether that means adoption or foster care.
I don’t want to get into too much detail and sound boring, but if you’re interested, you should check out their website or Google “St. John’s Home Grand Rapids Michigan”. The campus doesn’t have an unwelcoming feel to it. The main office is definitely for work, and it shows, but behind the office building is a bridge you cross to walk to the separate houses. And that’s what they are. The students live in houses, with their own bedrooms and personal space. The “parents” of the house are social workers who have a Bachelor’s degree, and there are 3 shifts of “parents” in each house. The students go to the public schools in Grand Rapids, so their lives are as normal as the agency can make them.
I cannot say that my life has made a complete turn around, or that the visit changed my life, or anything of the sort. What I can say is that battling depression is the hardest thing I’ve done in my life, and during one of my darkest times, I forced myself to do something that ended up putting me back on track and reminding me that this is all worth it. The migraines, the stress, the schooling, the disgusting roommates, and being away from home. It’ll all be worth it when I get finished and can make an impact in someone else’s life.