It's Simple

I like the rain and it's back! We live in a convergence zone so the clouds blow by quickly. The sun bursts through and then is gone again. I can look out the windows and see sunshine with rain drops falling sideways because of the wind. I don't mind being out in it because most of the time it's the lightest rain. I find it enjoyable. It just washes away all the muck and the dirt even makes the air seem cleaner. The rain smells good. I love to lie in bed at night with the window open and listen to it falling.

It's back and it makes me happy.

For Those of Us Without

Hi, my name is Jamie, and I am uninsured.

Oh, wait...this blog spot is not anonymous. But it feels like being uninsured is a nasty, dirty, little secret to be kept mum about, just like alcoholism, drug addiction, or gambling. That it is something one should only talk about in a small anonymous group of people. Grown people act shocked when they hear this news. Parents scold. People question.

Are you serious? Have you checked the cost of private insurance lately? How about Cobra coverage, it's more than I pay out in rent each month, for fucks sake. How is anyone who is working for a business that does not provide health insurance able to afford it? I am currently a waitress who is paying for my own very expensive education. I'm sorry but there is not an extra $300 a month in my budget for insurance. That's just the way it is right now.

Recently, I overheard four men who were truckers talking about this very thing. One of them mentioned he paid some $750 plus dollars a month to keep his family of four insured. First off, kudos to him for taking care of his wife and children in that manner. Secondly, are you kidding me? OMG. He didn't know I was listening, but I wanted to go over and pat him on the back. This having much to do with once being married to someone who resented having to put me on his health insurance at work. I could imagine the sacrifice and discipline it took pay for the coverage.

Now, I'm not going to launch into a great debate on this whole heath care dilemma of the moment. I actually do not know if President Obama has the answer, but I do know we need a different way of doing things. Let's say I whole heartedly agree with Dr.Grumpy , one of my favorite bloggers and neurologists. He has a very valid point...so please read it and come back to me. I have a pleasant medical surprise to share.

Lucky, Blessed, Fortunate and Any Other Synonyms That Mean We Are Just Damn Lucky

In this "Girl World," as I call it, there tends to be drama. The Academy Awards does not know of the sector it is missing from its voting category, but I digress. It hasn't touched me personally, thank god, as I have a zero tolerance policy but still...it exists. I was warned about it from other friends before entering the lesbian arena as a full time participant, but really thought they were overstating things a bit.

Turns out I was wrong. Funny thing about that. But here is what it boils down to-April and I are just plain old damn lucky.

We are kind to each other. We don't try to manipulate one another. We talk about most everything, even the stuff one would rather pretend does not exist. Even things that make us wriggle in our skin because the truth of it is painful. This includes money, aging parents, ex's, difficult friends, past mistakes that we are still paying for, whether or not to give up the over priced cable we have become so accustomed to, children, moving, and where to go on vacation. Really there isn't anything (except those things out of respect for one another) we haven't discussed or will not be able to discuss.

Like any relationship, there is always compromise. There is consideration, but it is consideration that I am happy to give as this woman gives me so much. On top of that, she gets me, she just does. She gives me time to write, she even edits and proofs much of what I write. She'll tell me if something I wrote makes absolutely no sense, without hurting my feelings. She is supportive of me being back in school, even though it means less time for us and me spending another 12 weeks with my head in a book. I have to study to get good grades, and I do. They don't just land on my transcript without effort, which in turn means sacrifice. Since we get along, and we do have fun together, when I am enrolled in school I feel like our "norm" lacks. We miss one another.

Why do I divulge this? Because what I realize it that truly it could have gone a complete other direction for us. Like so many other couples we know, there could have been hidden needs that were left unsaid in the beginning. Bad habits that were put aside, could have come bubbling up to the surface eventually, demanding to be adhered to again. Images that appeared as real, turning out to be false. If you've been in relationship, you know the devils of which I speak. We've all faced them once or twice and some of us even married them for god only knows what reason. I too am not unguilty of falling for a fake. When it comes to love and lust there are so many places where one can drive off unwittingly into a ditch, only to realize it months (dollars, opportunities, promises, days, years) later it feels like an eternity has passed.

So, as of late and recent reminders, I once again must put to words just how lucky I am. Just amazingly so. Thank you April, for being who you said you were.

Back In School

Rehab for Horders

I've blogged about the program on the A and E network before but after last nights episode I think something is amiss.

Basically, to have any sort of success it seems to me there has to be another way of working with a person who is afflicted with this demon. Truly. It is painfully obvious to me that the "organizer" who slowly and patiently works with the possessed is not enough. Neither is the therapist who, as my better half so lovingly put it, "mollycoddles," their client.

By the time most of these hoarders make it to having help come in they are past the road to ruin. They own so much shit and crap and it lies about everywhere the eye can see. Their homes are full of "stuff" piled high and low. For most of them a pathway from room to room is the only open space remaining. Their refrigerators are filled with moldy out dated food. Their floors must need to be replaced once cleared, given the rot and smell. Inevitably, these people seem to be drawn to animals. Kitty litter unhinged, ugh!

From the outside looking in, most of these homes appear to be uninhabitable. But, we know they are not. There are families locked inside them both physically and mentally. Many have lost relationships, friends, family, and any social aspect they may of once held in their homes. The saddest story was yesterday when even the children were removed from their family due to this nightmare.

Failure to change is the running theme with this diagnosis. Not an organizer, not a therapist, nor loss of any anything else seems to be able to chase away this rabid bug. It appears to take hold of the participant and simply owns them. It appears to me quite hopeless. And yet. I have a better idea. Albeit, it's really another A and E program. Intervention.

No one is going to be "cured" or "helped" in three small days. Do you realize how many days it took for most of these homes to end up looking like they do by air time? For most, it has been a long painful obsession over many years. So here is my proposal...

Long term rehabilitation for the hoarder. Yep, just like Betty Ford. 90 days and up to six months, locked-in, inpatient care. I don't care if it's 12 step, or massive therapy but something has got to be able to unhook the need to fill your self up with "stuff." It's an addiction, a habit, just like any other addictive disease. Can you imagine the emptiness a person who has this need must feel? And then, if they didn't already feel empty and lonely enough they create a situation that in the end only creates more social isolation.

I don't know if we've ever had a first lady who had this malady, but if we have it's time for her to come out of the closet and open up a rehab center. Good God, they say there are at least 3 million people in the country who are faced with this problem. I'd say that would keep a number of therapist employed and rehab facilities open for quite some time.

In addition to that, instead of slowly pawing through pile after pile and box after box why not work with the ill from the inside. To give them hope that upon their release they can go home they can truly start over. Other then photos, everything else is tossed. Leaving of course necessities like clothes, food, furniture, etc... No storage lockers and not a million a one plastic boxes labeled full of crap. They arrive home to a clean out, uncluttered, non-critter infested home.

Hopefully, after serious therapy and not just 3 days the homeowner can truly feel free at home.