Posts Tagged ‘men of faith have courage’

Still Scared

June 3, 2018

But breathing through it.

Crying too.

Sharing about it.

Letting it go.

Reminding myself that it’s not about me, but that, yes, oh yes, I do have rights.

And quite a lot more of them then I had even realized.

I got up early today, I showered, I prayed and read and wrote and drank my coffee and applied for a Grad Plus Student Loan, since the financial aid I was approved of for my PhD program is shy $3,000.

I got approved.

I don’t know how much that will mean, the school will package the loan for me, but I do know that it will be enough.

I feel quite sure of that.

So with my breath stuck somewhere high up in my chest, I left this morning to go to the San Francisco Tenant’s Union on Capp Street.

I got there five minutes before they were open and there were already four other people in line.

However!

Thanks to being proactive, I actually got to go first, since I had filled out the paperwork online, paid the membership fee, printed everything off and handed it over to the counselor.

“I’ll see you first,” he said and asked me what I needed to know.

I told him about my situation and I got back some straight quick answers.

The notice to leave the in-law is in fact, as I suspected, not legal.

It has to be in writing and it has to be for just cause, like I haven’t been paying rent, or I have trashed the place, or I’m doing something illegal.

No meth lab here.

Just me and my notebooks quietly coexisting next to the garage.

I explained that I didn’t have a signed lease.

“Doesn’t matter, she still has to give you a written notice, she still has to have just cause, and the reasons she’s given are not legally binding,” he continued.

I was relieved and also panicked.

“What do I do now?” I asked.

“Nothing, you stay put, you pay your next month’s rent,” he continued, “you don’t have to move out, just keep paying your rent and lay low.”

Ugh.

That sounds horrible, but doable.

I just hate the idea of living somewhere that I am not wanted.

And I realize that’s also a sort of victim attitude or perhaps a martyr attitude.

Neither of which are very sexy in my opinion.

I asked about relocation money and he said I wasn’t to that stage yet, but that I could get there.

I said what if she raised the rent?

He said, and my jaw dropped, “you have rent control, there is only so much she can raise it, has she raised it since you moved in?”

I said yes, told him the amount, and he said, “that’s too much, here’s the percentage that she’s allowed to raise it, you could sue for back overpaid rent retroactive three years.”

Holy shit.

I had no idea about that.

I chatted with my best friend about it, I’m a bit stupid with math, I’ll write you a Shakespearean sonnet in ten minutes, but maths, bah, numerological dyslexia strikes again, and asked what the raise would have been and figured out that it was raised $30 too high.

I mean it’s not a ton over, but I could reasonably say that another raise in rent is out of the question with that knowledge.

What I basically was told was you don’t have to move, you don’t need to move, make her do the work and get everything in writing.

It feels really big and scary and unpleasant.

I suspect though, that it will be a couple of uncomfortable conversations.

She’s not going to hurt me, she’s not going to change the locks on the house, I really actually can’t see that happening.

It will be uncomfortable conversations, and though I’m not happy about that, I can have them and knowing what my rights are really feels good.

Especially just knowing that I have more time to find a place.

I still intend on moving out, it doesn’t seem like this is a good home for me, it’s been what I needed for this phase of my development, but it is time to move on.

I think what the counselor gave me, though, is time.

Time to find the right situation, time to make sure that I am not desperately clawing at unreasonable housing situations, rent that I can’t afford, or room mates that I’m not really compatible with.

I sense that having the awareness that I don’t actually have to more out in 90 days will help me be more expansive.

I hope anyway.

I am still scared and uncomfortable and the crap its stirring up is big, but I am also a capable adult able to have conversations and find solutions.

I can take this to a mediator if necessary.

Though I suspect that it won’t need to go that far.

I think a buy out is reasonable, especially in this market.

This market is crazy, it still stuns me at times, but I have lived here for almost sixteen years, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

This is home, not necessarily this little in-law, but San Francisco.

So tonight I will practice invisioning what I want.

I will imagine a big room, hard wood floors, living in a house where I probably have roommates, but I also have access to an entire house, I imagine space and sunlight.

Laundry.

Parking.

It can happen.

I know it.

I just do.

I know it’s out there and I’m ready to embrace the next thing.

I really am.

I can be scared and I can still do this.

“Men of faith have courage.”

Courage is not the absence of fear.

It is walking through the fear, it is doing the actions needed despite the fear.

I am brave.

I will walk through this.

Into the bright sunight of a brand new home.

I just will.

Advertisements

I Did It!

November 10, 2016

I walked through some fucking fear.

I took some action.

I let go of the results.

I am still a little in fear of what is going to happen.

However.

I know that I will be taken care of.

What the fuck am I talking about?

I asked for more money from my future job.

Yup.

I took a huge, for me, leap of faith.

I have been sitting, quietly stewing in my own juices with a nagging resentment against myself that I finally addressed last night when I did some inventory at the end of the night and e-mailed my person what was up for me.

Granted.

I was a little sensitive yesterday.

It was a day full of anxiety and grandiose fear writ large on the face of my fellows and community and for so many people I have love for.

I had a hard time falling asleep.

I prayed a lot.

I let go of what was happening out in the world.

And I focused on what was going on for me, in my life, in the only place where I can change.

I did that writing last night.

I did some more writing this morning.

Then I got on the phone and I sent text messages out to a few friends.

And.

I made the phone calls I needed to make.

I got some awesome feed back and a lot of support.

I saw my part and I decided to walk through the fear.

See.

When I interviewed for this next job I didn’t ask for what I needed.

I blurted out what I make now.

I didn’t pause.

I didn’t respond.

I just reacted.

I then didn’t say anything to anyone because I was ashamed of myself for not being more proactive on my own part.

I have such a hard time asking for what I want.

I have a hard time asking for help.

I have a hard time accepting anything from anyone.

Gifts?

Jesus, really, why would anyone want to give me anything?

But that is old thinking and doesn’t serve, and I am deserving of love and joy and abundance.

I am.

God damn it.

And I deserve to be paid my worth.

“You do what for you family?” I have heard that statement a few times.

“Do they pay you more for that?” Another question I get frequently.

And.

“OH, my God!  You should be getting more than you’re making for that.”

Yes.

Thank you I know.

And yet.

There it is in the back of my head.

You’re not worthy.

You’re not enough.

Might as well go eat worms.

But I have done enough work, I have enough recovery, and I have so many people who love me and support me and want what’s best for me.

Well.

It tends to rub off.

And I have enough recovery to know that when I am shorting myself, I don’t like myself and feelings of martyrdom, self-pity, and victimhood that are being played out.

A scenario that I have often happily walked my way into.

See I used to be comfortable being miserable.

There was such a familiarity about it that I didn’t have any problem with it, was used to it, and kept perpetuating behaviors that would perpetuate the misery.

Then I got sober.

Then I got some recovery.

Then I started to re-wire my brain.

Not without an astounding amount of work, time, and help from others.

Oh.

And FYI.

I didn’t ask for that much of a pay increase.

I simply asked for a cost of living adjustment.

My rent went up this year as did my health insurance and it’s probably going to go up again when I transfer over to Covered California at the beginning of the year.

But back to the process of getting to the ask.

I owned up to my behavior and I saw that it was not serving my best self, not the self that I purport to love and want to take care of.

This is, just a quick aside, going to be something that I have to address as I move forward with my new career–you can bet your ass I won’t be making nanny wages when I’m a licenced therapist.  I might as well get used to asking for what I deserve now.

The owning up, the self-honesty was the biggest step.

Then telling on myself.

Then reaching out.

So that by the time my person did get back to me I had already made the decision I would be contacting my future employer and letting her know that I had made a mistake.

Before we sign a contract.

Before I am committed to working for them.

Before I start a job resentful that I’m not being compensated my due.

When I told my person what was up, she was like, of course!  You absolutely must, you just let her know that you blurted it out, you’re embarrassed, but you address it, and you do it now without shame.  You get a cost of living raise every year and that’s the end of the discussion.

Whew.

But not the end of the story.

I still had to come home and do it.

I just did right before I started my blog.

I knew I would not feel good going to bed without taking the action.

I apologized, I owned up to being embarrassed, I stated I needed to adjust my ask to incorporate a cost a living increase that I would have been negotiating with my current employers anyhow.

I asked for $.75 more an hour and additional $25 a month toward my health insurance.

It’s not a lot.

It’s more the principle than anything.

And I’m proud of myself for doing it.

Uncomfortable?

Sure as shit.

Scared?

Maybe a little.

But I know if this is not the right fit, I will be taken care of regardless.

There are other jobs.

And I really feel like it will work out.

What ever happens.

The results are not up to me.

I am just very happy that I took the actions.

That’s really all I can ever do anyway.

Take action.

Let go of the results.

Grateful for stepping up to the task.

Grateful I know that I am showing myself that I love myself.

Grateful to walk through the fear.

And I know.

That (wo)men of faith have courage.

Today I was courageous.

I bet I wasn’t the only one.

Hello Friday

May 28, 2016

Hello three day weekend.

Yay.

I earned it.

Even with it being a short week at work, it was crazy.

Cookie monster crazy.

The littlest guy turns four this weekend and I was the cookie making queen.

I made cookies for the birthday part, I’m not sure how many dozens, but it was a lot.

“You have such self-will,” the mom said, in awe as I slid the hot cookies off the spatula onto the lined counters to cool off.

I’m not so sure about that.

I think that’s called self-will run riot.

I have no self-control.

Hence.

Alcoholic.

Hence.

Addict.

Hence just give me fucking more.

More attention, more sex, more money, more attention, wait, I already said that, more please.

Are you thinking about me?

Why aren’t you thinking about me?

I don’t think you’re thinking about me enough.

Bwahahahaha.

Fuck my mother.

My brain is the lotus of the crazy, but fortunately, I know I’m crazy.

“You got to watch for the ones who don’t think they’re insane,” a person once told me.

Yup.

I know I’m crazy.

And I’m completely cool with it.

I’m exactly the person I’m suppose to be and I have a solution for the crazy.

Some folks do different things than I do and that’s cool too, I just do what works for me, eleven and a half years in, it seems to be doing just fine.

I don’t have to be perfect.

Thank fucking God.

And I have no will power, the choice was just taken from me and I’m fine with that too, if I thought I had some control over things I would still be out there trying to figure it out.

Figure it out works for shit.

I can still fall into it.

I fell into a little today.

But.

I called my person and confirmed that we were meeting this weekend, I get to see two of my people this weekend, because this crazy takes a village, and I’m super psyched for that.

I also have a coffee date with a friend of mine from school on Sunday at Trouble.

Because who doesn’t want to get into a little Trouble now and then.

I know I do.

Saturday and Sunday I got plans.

Monday not so much.

One commitment in the evening.

I’m debating a few things.

I may go to the new MOMA.

I have heard such good things about the new space and I have missed not being able to go to it for the last few years that it has been closed for renovation.

I’m also debating getting a membership.

I have had one a number of times.

It’s handy.

Plus.

I can get into the Guggenheim, the LACMA, the New Whitney, the MOCA, and the MOMA in New York with the membership.

Not that I have any more travel plans right now, but who knows what the year will bring.

I mean.

I didn’t make it to the Guggenheim this past trip.

Plus.

With the membership at the MOMA I can get another person in with me free.

The last time I was at the MOMA, I just realized was on my seven year anniversary.

I went and got this little chip with a friend at a spot in the Mission, the she and I went to the MOMA and walked through the exhibits.

That was four years ago.

Crazy so much has happened in that time.

The year or so I worked at the bicycle shop.

The six months I lived in Paris.

The not knowing what I was doing and just continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

The high school twentieth reunion.

The amends to my grandmother, my mother, my father, my sister.

All the traveling.

All the Burning Man.

All the life I have lived.

The uncertainties and the fears and showing up with bravery.

Walking through the fear and discovering yet more untapped sources of courage.

“Men of faith have courage,” it says somewhere, I don’t remember where, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

I have great faith.

I have walked through so much fear.

Graduate school anyone?

New jobs.

Boyfriends.

Ex-boyfriends.

Break ups.

The almost was but never was unrequited romantic love.

“Who’s he,” the oldest boy asked.

“A friend,” I said, slightly wistful, but my, so nice to not have the sadness and the stabbing ache that I used to have when I looked at those photographs of our Paris trip.

Growth.

Change.

Love.

Life.

Friday.

The day of the week where I actually set my alarm a little early to go to yoga in the morning before I meet up with my person at Tart to Tart.

I have my alarm set.

I’ll making the commitment to myself to go to the 9 a.m. class.

Then the doing the deal and maybe hitting up a spot at 7th and Irving.

And then, well the day will be mine.

No plans for tomorrow afternoon either.

“How’s the head,” he asked, after I had calmly rattled off the things happening at work.

I laughed, “oh it’s crazy, but really it just comes down to not getting what I want in the time frame that I want it, that’s all.”

Sex.

Relationships.

Love.

I’d like to wrap that all up in one neat package.

But the fact is, again I come back to it, I don’t need a person to complete me, although a compliment is nice, it’s just that thing I can get focused on when I feel uncomfortable with the idea of having down time.

I can get myself all booked up and busy and make busy and make like I don’t have feelings or a great big bloody heart on my sleeve.

Actually.

It’s not bloody at all.

My heart tattoo has healed up quite nicely.

No.

Today I’m not beating my heart against anything.

My life, perfectly imperfect, my heart beat, a hot flush of rose fire, beats just fine.

There is nothing wrong.

There are no problems.

Only opportunities to learn.

To grow.

To change.

To love a little more.

Because ultimately.

That’s the only thing that I really need more of.

Love.

Love.

Only.

That.

Love.


%d bloggers like this: