What I call: My truth about Christmas

The problem I have with Christmas isn't really one problem, but all of them stem from one thing; and that is that the point of Christmas is completely missed today. I will start with the most personal problems and move out to more "global" issues.

This Christmas, as the 13 before it, I have not had a job. There was one in 2003, where I did have a job over the Christmas season, but it brings up so many other horrible memories that I have chosen to block that particular year out of all my conscious thought. Well, I know the thought is that there are a lot of people out of work, but that isn't the problem here. Because I don't work outside the home, I deal with self-doubt and a sense of uselessness every day of my life. My husband is a good man and has never made our family suffer needlessly for lack of a steady paycheck, so I've never "needed" to work. But what that means to me personally is that since I don't work, not only do I not have the right to any money, I don't want to have to rely on him for every cent I want to spend on him. For example, I asked him for some money to buy him a gift, which of course, makes me feel more useless and pathetic than ever. But he said no. He said he didn't want anything. But his birthday is next week, and he's got a list a mile long that he spouted off to his mom when she asked what he wanted for his birthday. And worse, I can't buy anything for my children either. I have to justify every $0.50 expenditure, and I don't like reporting to anyone that I bought a "secret" gift for one of the kids. It kinda defeats the purpose of buying things secretly. That is problem number one.

Problem number two is closely related to number one. EVERYONE expects something for Christmas. The in-laws expect a gift, and a long time ago, the three kids said they would each spend $50 towards gifts for their parents. Welp, once again, we didn't partake of this little tradition, even though the other two did. I wanted to, and I reminded him that we needed to set aside a couple hundred dollars to get things for the extended family. We had the money, we just didn't do it. So Christmas Eve rolled around this year and we are in Show Low exchanging gifts, and nobody had anything from our family. Oh, each one of us recieved something. But my brother- and sister-in-law and their three little kids didn't recieve anything. The grandparents were going to their house for Christmas morning, so they saved the gifts for then, but we were supposed to participate in this exchange. But again, because he controls every cent of money, which is his right since he earns every cent of the money, I had no say, and it isn't really the thought that counts. Nobody knows how horrible I feel that their little kids had nothing to open for Christmas Eve. Nobody knows how I am still scheming in my mind how to buy them gifts when I get my financial aid money next week, and maybe lie and say that we just forgot them over here. I freaking hate this feeling, and I feel like if I was doing my part, and bringing in some funds that I had control over, this would not be happening and I would not feel like crap. In a nutshell, that is problem number 2.

Problem number 3, again, is related to money and my lack of ability to provide or control any. My mom is without a job this year, and for the first time since I remember, she really doesn't have any steady income. Yet, somehow, she managed to pick up books for my daughter, along with some homemade hot cocoa mix, that I know she put lots of love into. For me, she made an amazing scrapbook of pictures and stories about the Medley side of our family. She gave my oldest son money, because of problem number 4. And for my baby, she made a Sacrament Meeting activity book, which is awesome. He'll be able to use it all year and think of her every time we pull it out. She went out of her way to make awesome, heartfelt gifts for my family, and once again, because I don't have any money control, she got nothing for us. Oh, I take that back. I made her a gingerbread house. It turned out really cool, but it is nothing compared to the work she put into our gifts.

Problem number 4, as alluded to above, is the attitude my children have. Child #1 hates clothes. He swears it should be against the law for anyone to give any child clothes as a gift, for any reason. So while I was making pajamas and hats and scarves and ponchos for my other two kids, I didn't make him anything. At first, I thought, "that will show him. While the other kids get nice warm pajamas and stuff, he'll be wishing he had them." But looking at it from how I would have been thinking about it when I was 13, he probably thinks I don't love him as much as the othr two, since I obviously didn't make him anything. And, of course, that also meant he didn't get anything from me, since I have no control of money to buy things for him. The other two children aren't as hung up on clothes as #1 is, but they still think they are "owed" everything they get, and more. So if they don't get everything they wanted, we have failed as parents. And the worst part of the whole thing is...

Problem number 5! It isn't just my kids! I am not the only one that feels the pressure. When my children go back to school, for the second Christmas in a row, they will not be telling their friends that they got a Wii or a Blu-Ray player or a big-screen for their bedroom. Shoot, the boys don't even HAVE their own rooms. But because the story will be that once again, the Hitchcock's can't keep up with the (fill in a name here)'s, and their kids are big nerds because they STILL don't have their own electronics and game playing systems. But even if the money was there, I refuse to submit to the pressure of people whose children are spoiled and lazy and just figure everyone owes them everything...

Christmas is about Jesus Christ, hence the "Christ" in "Christmas". No, he wasn't born in December, we all know that. We all know that historically, it would be much more accurate to celebrate his birth around Easter, but we already have the resurrection for that time of year. Christmas is a celebration of a miracle, and whether you believe it happened or not, THAT is what it is about. You can choose not to celebrate Christmas and nobody will care, but the celebration is about Christ, and if you can't stomach that, you need to not celebrate. Santa isn't real, never has been. He was actually "created" to give a less didactic view of Christmas to people, but he still represents Jesus Christ. Bet you didn't know that! Yep, its true! Santa brings gifts to symbolize not only the gifts the Three Kings (or wise men, or priests, or whatever you want to call them) brought to the toddler Christ, but also the gift Jesus was to give us of the atonement. My biggest problem is that people don't seem to know that anymore. People buy and buy, and spend money and buy more, and bad-mouth other people when they can't afford to buy more and they completely forgive that really, WE don't deserve to recieve gifts at all. It is CHRISTmas, not GENAmas, or LOUISmas. It isn't about me getting anything, it is about the celebration of Christ's birth. It should be simple, and gifts should be HANDMADE WITH LOVE, if exchanged at all. People should be spending their time doing what He would be doing, if He was here: helping the homeless or downtrodden, writing letters or making phone calls to the people we love, feeding the hungry, singing to lift the hearts of others. Christ would be worshipping His Father, not worshiping Sears or JC Penney. HE would be sitting around a table, breaking bread and spending time with those he loved, not running up credit card bills and treating other shoppers like they are slime under rocks.
I'm just sick of it. All of it. The whole Christmas experience. I love the time with the family or friends, but I'm tired of how the world has turned it into a commercial fiasco meant only to bring businesses the big bucks.

Not feeling so well about welfare

I know I shouldn't be a hater, but dang it, I can't help it.
I got an email from Senator Allen today and she tells me she needs all good Republicans to help push AHCCCS reform because the state's budget can't be amended until some serious changes have been made, and by the end of next month, teachers, DPS officers, and other state employees will not be actually getting paychecks, but bank drafts. IOUs, if you will, because the state is taking out another $90 million loan (on top of the $70 million they got in November) just to pay state employees through the Christmas season, and there is no money in the budget. Halfway through the fiscal year, and the budget account is dry. I told her, as I told her a couple weeks ago when we last talked, that the whole welfare system needs reform. People are making more on welfare and unemployment than they can working an honest job, and that is a bunch of shit, pardon my French. I swear to gosh, my mom said this very thing to me just this past weekend. "There are just no jobs out there." I said, "Oh that's a bunch of crap. When I drive to Show Low, there isn't a fast food restaurant in town that isn't hiring, and I know KMart and WalMart both hire between October and February just to get through the holidays, so don't tell me you can't find work." "Yeah," she says to me, "they're hiring, but I make more on unemployement than I would there, so that is kinda dumb." And you know what, I totally agree. It is no freakin wonder people are refusing to work. It is no wonder the state of Arizona and its businesses didn't really get into the black by Black Friday. It is no wonder that a full 34% of Arizonans are drawing welfare right now. But I have a solution. It has holes, but it is a jumping-off place, nothing more.

Here is my proposal.

• If you are not found medically unable to work, you do not get benefits of any kind (food stamps, AHCCCS, utility assistance, cash assistance) unless you or someone in your household is not working a full-time job or combination of part-time jobs to be considered full-time. (40 hours a week) Food stamps can be offered on a part-time basis, and benefits will expire after 6 months, regardless of your station. This "work" doesn't necessarily have to be paid employment, and can be community service (volunteering in schools, nursing homes, libraries, collecting litter from the streets, mowing the grass at the park, etc.), as long as an employment supervisor will initial that you are doing said work, and it can be verified.
• You must be a legal resident of the United States, on a work visa that has not expired, or on a student visa that has not expired, in order to even apply for any type of benefits.
• Each person considered for benefits MUST pass a drug test. A failed drug test renders you ineligible for any state benefits for the period of 6 months. At that time, if you can pass the test and the other stipulations apply, you can resume your benefits for whatever duration you had remaining on your original benefit period. In other words, if you had 2 weeks left when your test came back dirty, you only have two weeks left when you resume recieving benefits. If you refuse a drug test, it is the same as having a dirty one.
• Unemployment is paid by the employers who severed you, not the state, and the state does not subsidize it in any way.
• AHCCCS is for children, pregnant women, and people over 65 only. All children under 18 qualify for AHCCCS, regardless of their family's income, unless they are covered by their family's health care provider.
• NO CHILD IS DENIED HEALTH CARE COVERAGE FOR ANY REASON.
• No welfare benefits can be used for alcohol, tobacco, or other controlled substances.

It all boils down to this. You do your part, the state will help make up the rest. You don't do your part, and the state is really sorry, but there is nothing that they can do.

Many people would see such a proposal as more government, but it really isn't that at all. I don't really believe in government in a society where people are capable of taking care of themselves. But in the society in which we now live, people think its okay to do just about anything, and don't believe accountability for their actions is anything short of tyranny. People do not know how to govern themselves, or take care of themselves. It was estimated last year that if electricity were to suddenly go away, 20% of the country would die within 6 months because they've lost the skills of cooking food without either an electric range or a microwave. And I ask you, can you cook on open flame? What if we lost gas? Natural gas, propane, butane, is what I mean? Probably close to another 15% would perish because they don't know how to build fires to keep warm or to cook, and don't have means to do that even if they knew how. And how many people have warm clothing, blankets, and bedding in their homes to keep themselves warm if the government weren't providing heat? I know it's winter now, but how many people would die of heat stroke in the summer if they suddenly had no air conditioning, swamp coolers, or ceiling fans? What if they had no running water? What if we couldn't go to the store because either we didn't have access to gasoline, or the stores couldn't store food due to no electricity?

This welfare proposal puts the responsibility for getting help back into the hands of the people with the outstretched arms. You want something from the government? Fine, that is what they are there for. But you have to meet them halfway. Better than halfway, actually. Because I do believe in help, I always have. There have been times, miserable, horrible times, when I have had to ask for help. I am a proud person, I will admit, and I hate to ask for help from anyone, but I have had to, just to survive, and I would again. But I will work my ever-loving butt off to do everything I can before I even think about asking for help. I always thought THAT was the American Spirit. My ancestors came to this country 200 years ago with the Irish attitude that we're just as good as everyone else, and if we have to work our fingers to the bone to prove it, we dang sure will. There is no shame in working hard and earning things by the sweat of the brow and the ache of the back. There is great pride in that, actually. I take a lot of pride in knowing that God alone has been helping me to get everything I have. I've never lived in my mother's house or my father's shadow. I've never relied on my father or my brother or my uncle to get me a job over 100 other people applying, just because he had power to do it. I've never relied on my family name or anything else to get what I've got. It's not much, but it is mine. Mine and God's. I thought that kind of pride was what it meant to BE an American. That is what the welfare proposal is all about. Getting people back into the mindframe that it is shameful to freeload and is something to be proud of to work hard. Really, once people start thinking that way again, there won't be any need for the government to provide welfare because the people will do it for each other. When you really remember what it is like to be down and out, to need help, you are so much more willing to reach out an lend a helping hand to others.

It's late, and I'm tired.

It's beginning to look a lot like Prozac

I'm not a fan of drugs, really. I mean, I love morphine, I can't lie, but only because the only time I ever experienced its effects, I was in a lot of pain and it made it go away. Well, it didn't go away, I just didn't care about it anymore. It was like that when I had my third child and got to have drugs in labor. Demoral? Stadol? I don't know. I'm not entirely sure it isn't because of said drugs that he is the way he is, but I wouldn't have done it differently had I known then what I know now.
ANYWAY, let it be known that I am not a fan of serious narcotics. That should make what I am about to say a lot more... powerful.
I hate Christmas. I used to like it when I was little and living in Virginia. It was just me, my sister Mandie, my mom, and Granny. The first conscious memory I have of Christmas was in Virginia, and I had to be about 3 or 4. Granny bought Mandie and I some slippers, and we got to open them early. We ended up wearing them to some kind of Christmas party, which was probably at our church. But I remember sticking my slippers under the lamp shade for the light bulb to heat them up. And I remember waking up Christmas morning to a huge fire, presents under the tree, and Rum Butter lifesavers in our stocking, along with nuts, a big peppermint stick, and an orange. I can't remember any other gifts I got, and there may not have been any. But I know Granny was sitting in the rocking chair, looking all happy and glowing, watching Mandie and I play on the floor. It seems like maybe that was when I got my first Lite Brite. Could be.
Fast forward about 5 years. I'm probably 8 or 9. It's about two weeks before Christmas and I am awakened in the middle of the night (could have been 8 p.m.; who knows) by the voice of my birth father, singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost nipping at your nose..." He used to sing that to us when we were little, and I hadn't seen him because he was in prison. But there he was. And he brought gifts, too. A Rainbow Brite horse... I think his name was Starlite. A horse and foal tapestry to hang on my wall. For Mandie, it was a white Sprite, also from Rainbow Brite, and a teddy bear radio. He spent about three days with us before he was gone again. I have no idea where he went, but I didn't hear from him again for about 14 years. But every time I hear that song, I remember that night. I still have that tapestry hanging on my wall, within reach of the very computer at which I now sit.
Another couple years go by and my mom remarried my step dad, who I will always refer to as my dad, even though I've always called him "Shane" to his face. The first Christmas I remember with him in our family, they had a fight. I have no idea what the fight was about, but he threw Mandie's scriptures out into the snow and my mom picked up Jessica, who was a tiny baby, and Mandie and I followed her out the door. We ended up walking right back in because we had no way to leave. But the screaming and fighting continued. Actually, for about 10 years...
About my 8th grade year or so, Christmas Eve rolls around. My brother, Jarod, then about 2 or so, was climbing on the TV stand while my parents were fighting, once again. He fell, hitting his chin on the open door of the stand, splitting his chin. He spent Christmas Eve in the emergency room and ended up with lots of internal and external stitches, as the wood cut him clean to the bone. He didn't cry, from what I was told. But it was a Christmas I will never forget.
Another Christmas happened probably the next year. My dad took his horse up on the mountain to cut a Christmas tree. He thought he was John Wayne. He is more authentic than John Wayne, in my opinion, but it was what it was. But he brought a tree down and we put it up. But my grandpa went out with a 5-gallon bucket to get sand to prop the tree up in. He couldn't carry the bucket by himself, and he was embarrassed. He'd lost his eyesight, and his strength was fading. It was just the two of us out at the sand pit, and I had to help him carry a bucket of sand for the Christmas tree. I went home and cried, and wished I could give him at least one of my eyes so he could see, and I vowed to God that I would let him take me away years earlier than I was supposed to go if only He would give Grandpa some of my strength. He didn't do that, and of course, I couldn't give Grandpa one of my eyes, but Christmas became a reminder of the mortality we all face.
My last Christmas at home was the least pleasant ever, I think. My mom and dad were fighting, yet again. Christmas for me was a bath gift set from my Aunt Alana and a "forgiveness" letter from my dad, who told me I didn't have to pay him for the car I wrecked. What makes it worse is that the little kids, then 8, 6, and 4, didn't really get much more than that. We ended up in the truck, my dad on the outside, reaching through the open window to try to take the truck keys from my mom, who was punching him and hitting him. Mandie climbed out the back seat, came over and hit him and told him not to hit my mom (he wasn't) and she went to get a gun to shoot him. But before she was halfway to the house, he ran over and stopped her and told her to get back in the truck. We went to town and I never set foot in that house again. I spent the night with my boyfriend's parents for a couple nights while Granny was out of town, but when she got home, I moved in with her. Mandie had been living there for a while, and had only gone out to the house to "celebrate" Christmas with our family.
For many reasons, more than I have time to write here, I hate, loathe, and despise Christmas. I guess it brings up bad memories of bitter holidays with my "family", but more than that, the holiday has lost its meaning entirely. Christmas used to be a holy day to celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. It used to be a homey time, where children smile a little brighter, parents laugh a little louder, people are happier and come together more fully. Parents wink at each other, sharing the secret of Santa, and hiding it from their little kids. They pray together and sing together, and act out the Nativity with sheets wrapped around them, and brooms for shepherd's staffs, and bath towels wrapped around their heads. Moms and dads would hold hands while the big sister would read the story of the birth of Christ, and a special spirit would fill the hearts of Christians the world over. Soup kitchens would have extra hands, and neighbors would treat their friends to the 12 days of Christmas goodies, and kids who just learned about "Santa" would get to place gifts on a random child's doorstep, knock on the door, and run around the corner and hide where they could see the Spirit of Christmas light up some stranger's face. That was when I was little, in Virginia, when a stick of candy and a handful of mixed nuts were all it took to make a child very, very happy.
Those days are gone. Now it is thousands of dollars worth of cheap plastic crap made in China. Blinking lights of dozens of colors, hooked up to blink to the sound of a non-Christian "Christmas" song like "Jingle Bells" or "Deck the Halls". We can't pray and give thanks to our Lord in public because it is offensive. We can't wish anyone "Merry Christmas" because what if they are Jewish? Buddhist? Muslim? We have to say "Happy Holidays" like there is something else going on that is anywhere near as important as Christ's birth! It's a Nintendo Wii, with games and controllers, that set parents back $400, and a dirtbike, and a new "Guitar Hero" game, and a computer, and whining kids who, despite the fact that they do NOTHING to contribute to a happy household, believe they DESERVE more! It's all the rich parents telling their children that whoever gets the most crap under the tree is who is loved more. It's poor children feeling depressed and forgotten and suicidal. It's people forgetting their elderlies in "homes" because the holidays are just too stressful to visit them. It's eating tons of sugary, fatty junk that makes you fat and makes you hate yourself when the holiday is over, just to feel better about all the inadequacies the holiday brings to mind. Today, Christmas is about making money, spending money, and trying not to offend non-Christians by only singing songs about "holidays". Christmas isn't Christmas anymore, it is a "non-denominational Winter Holiday" or "X-mas".
I'm no stranger to the Christmas blues. I hate the holiday, despite the fact that my 5-year old really gets it this year and is so excited he can hardly stand it. I hate the lights, the ringing bells, the constant pressure to buy, spend, and wrap. Take out another mortgage to make sure the kids get everything they could possibly want.
I completely get why so many people kill themselves this time of year. It is depressing as all hell. And it shouldn't be! It should be a happy, joyous, freakin time! People should feel comforted and happy, not like they should up their dose of Prozac.
As for me, I really think I need some Prozac. My family invented "depression", or so it seems, and I've fought and fought and fought with it, barely keeping it at bay for the last 20 years by just ignoring that I have had all the classic symptoms--and then some--for 2 decades. Now I find myself more and more often sitting by myself, either at the computer, or staring out the window, wishing I could find the strength to get myself up and do something--ANYTHING--constructive. And the frustration builds and builds to where I am breaking things I treasure, yelling at people I love, and crawling into bed at 7 at night, just to lie there, staring at the ceiling for hours, sometimes nearly the whole night. Listen to my husband snore, and I want to hit him with a brick stick because he doesn't even know, can't even tell that there is something wrong. Or worse, he just doesn't care. I want to choke people I know who act so rediculous and stupid because the manic side of my bipolar personality just can't stand stupidity. Knots have been in my neck and shoulders for months, to the point where I can't raise my hands over my head to put my hair in a pony tail.
I HATE Christmas and I will be so happy when it is over.

Or at least less depressed.

I hope.

Whining for Recognition

I applaud all our servicemen and women who have served our country, have dedicated their lives and their bodies to preserving our freedoms and teaching other nations about how we live and how they would benefit from our ways.
I applaud all the firemen and women who serve their cities, towns, and families by helping prevent fires and rescuing people, pets, and belongings in the cases of residential fires. Even more, I applaud all the wildland firefighters, smoke jumpers, hotshots, and retardant copter crews who help preserve our national forests and lands.
I applaud policmen and women, DPS officers, livestock officers, Tribal Police, Correctional Officers, and peace officers all over this country for the jobs they do, many times at the risk of their own lives or limbs.
Thank you to all of you. You are appreciated greatly. Surely you know that. Even if people don't say it all the time.

I read an article this morning, women once again, complaining that they aren't being treated like the men when they do the same job. Not only did it make me think these women are who make it really difficult for those of us who have chosen to stay and raise our children to ever get recognition for anything we do, but are also causing the same stereotyping that they are trying to allay by working alongside men in "manly" jobs. Whining, whining, whining. But then I realized something else. It isn't just women doing the whining! I got caught up in the same stereotyped thoughts...

Men and women (or if you prefer, women and men) of the abovementioned branches of service: You get paid for what you do. You get health, dental, vision, and often life insurances that people who often work much more strenuous jobs never recieve. You get a retirement that millions of Americans never recieve, even if they put in well over your 20 years at their jobs. Military in particular: you are able to purchase discount food, furniture, clothing, and other of life's necessities at a commissary for the rest of your life, not just while you serve your military. You disappear for months at a time, seeing the world, albeit just bits and pieces and sometimes very, very ugly bits and pieces. You get to learn about cultures, religions, lifestyles people here never even imagined. And yet many of you still complain that you don't get enough recognition. Country singers sing about your heroic acts. People make Powerpoint Presentations and circulate them around the net, just for you. They take pictures of you and print T-shirts, bumper stickers, window decals, coffee mugs, key chains. They write books about you. I'm not sure how that isn't enough recognition.
I know your job is hard. I've worked law enforcement and fire fighting, and some days are so strenuous and you come home (or to your bedroll or whatever) so exhausted that you literally can't sleep. Sometimes the things you've seen give you nightmares for years, decades even. Yes, that is deserving of respect and recognition, that I don't deny. You do deserve it.

But nobody owes you anything. If you wanted a job where your face was going to be plastered all over the tabloids and newspapers, where you could stand up and address crowds with your self-important drivel, you should have been a politician. Because of our modern media and conveniences, there are no secrets about the military or law enforcement. You should KNOW that it is dangerous to jump into a raging inferno of pine trees, and you could get burnt, even lose your sight, hearing, or limbs. You know going into the military, even in peace times, that you could be shot at, poisoned, subjected to nerve gases, and various other nasties. If you don't know that, you are an idiot. But if you do know that, and you go into that line of work anyway, realize that everyone else knows that, too, so anything that happens to you is very sad, but not terribly surprising. These jobs are not about glory, and never have been. If you are serving the people of this country for the glory of it, and are going to complain when you don't get that glory, shame on you. If you don't serve quietly, maybe you should think about another line of work. People who really serve, don't want recognition. Being modest about service is what service is about.
Otherwise, it isn't service at all, it's just a photo opportunity.