Today I have a guest blogger, my beautiful daughter!
Her entry is a sad one, though. This is her memorial tribute to her beloved cat, Doc.
“My cat was one of the most annoying, self-absorbed, fussy cats that I have met on this planet. If he wanted something, nothing would deter him (especially if it was chicken!). He drove my mom up the wall with his meowing! He had a supercat power of always being exactly where your foot was about to go, causing you to step on him. When stepped on, he would give you this reproachful look, which always made you feel guilty and take the blame (well, it made me anyway).
My brother (though he loved Doc) could not help teasing him. With my love for him and firm belief that animals have feelings, I appointed myself Doc’s protector against the combined forces known as mother and brother. In return, he decided he liked my lap best and sat there whenever he could, whether I wanted him there or not- like when I was “trying” to do my homework!
This of course played havoc with my allergies, but I loved it all the same.
Being the runt of the litter, he has always had problems with his health. However, last week, he got worse. We took him to the vet and found out that “he was a very sick cat”. The vet told us that it would be very expensive to do the tests and easier on Doc to put him down.
So we said goodbye and put him down.
I had gotten used to protecting him (though my brother had mostly gotten over it and mom by this time had succumbed to his charms and loved him) and to having him on my lap, so it is hard to accept that he is gone.
I’ll miss him and you can be sure that he made sure we would never forget him. His going-away present – peeing on mom’s laptop case!
I love you, Doc, and I’ll always miss you!”
Monday, July 24
Sunday, July 23
Ten good reasons to emigrate
Yesterday I met with Dave, the guy who runs the agency handling my proposed emigration to the US. Before my one-on-one meet with him, he had a general info session for prospective emigrants and he revisited all the reasons one might have for deciding to emigrate. These, he reminded us, are what you hang on to when the process gets tough.
I am so glad he did that. I’d lost sight of a lot of them, of all those things that first persuaded me to start this process.
Education:
He referred mainly to the school his own kids (11 and 17) attend in Irvine, CA, which is an upmarket area. Kids get an astounding education compared to here. In school, a lot of work is project-based, meaning own research and submission of paper / model / etc. His kids come home, log onto the school website, find the homework the teacher has posted for them, complete it and return it via the net. It is assumed that everyone has high-speed internet at home …Travel opportunities for all disciplines – study Spanish and you could find yourself on a trip to Spain. Travel with the school choir to festivals nationwide. The drama dept has a fully-equipped theatre, not just a school hall shared with sports activities. Backstage crew has a room full of power tools and equipment to build sets, etc. Community sport facilities are in abundance and are well-maintained - tax payers money being put to good use!
Work:
Who you are doesn’t limit what work you can do. Grannies serve you at McDonalds, for e.g. White women clean houses. Nothing is considered a demeaning job if it earns you a good wage. Jobs are not given on the basis of your age, race, sex or similar. Kids work summer jobs and earn good money – minimum wage is $7.00 ph. Babysitters get between $7 – 10.00 ph and more after midnight.
Security: This is a BIGGIE for South Africans!!
The houses have no fences, no security doors, no burglar bars, no alarm systems.
Post gets dropped in unlocked mailboxes, both delivery and to go.
Parcel deliveries are left on your doorstep if there is no one home and they don’t get stolen.
Kids can walk all over the neighborhood in safety and with freedom. (Here, I used to escort my child just to go next door, make sure she was safely inside with the gate locked before I’d go!)
Cars get left on the street, unlocked and no one worries ..
Houses get left unlocked, and no one worries …
If you are a pedestrian, the motorists stop instantly if you step into the road …
All this I know to be true, btw, from my last two visits to the US. Even in NY, when people cross the road, the traffic waits.
Cars:
A big fancy car which costs around R250 000.00 here sells for maybe $25 000.00 there – monthly repayments are around $500.00 max.
Salaries:
Most nurses earn around $30.00 average, not including benefits and overtime. Nurses are well-paid compared with the general population and live good lifestyles. Obviously, if you work in Podunk, Arkansas, you won’t earn as well, but then your cost of living is going to be much lower!
All in all, I was reminded of a million good reasons why I want to do this.
In our meeting thereafter, he told me that the INS processing time, which used to be around a year, is now down to 2 - 3 months. The paperwork for the VisaScreen credentialing goes forward simultaneously, taking also 2 – 3 months. Then, with the INS paperwork and the VisaScreen certificate in place, you request a green card interview with the US Consulate in Johannesburg. This can take 3 - 6 months to get done, depends on them. An estimated min of 6 months, max of 9 months once the paperwork is done. Yikes!!!
Hospitals are not taking on new RNs so far in advance anymore, like FRHG did. So what he is doing is sending out resumes once you are 4 - 5 months from the completion of the process, so that by the time you have your green card, you also have a good job offer with a good relocation allowance etc.
If I elect to go with the present flow, meaning we'd be there within the next 6 - 9 months, his agency will sponsor me and carry initial costs, recouping these from the sponsoring hospital later on. If I wait and go at say the end of next year, I have the option of temporarily halting the process, but that could lead to a longer wait as there is a strong possibility that with all the new emigration stuff and amnesties and whatnot, if those Bills are passed, the INS is going to be snowed under and things could get looooong and drawn out again. Or, I could elect to fund it myself, go ahead now and then make the actual move when we are ready to do so - you get six months from the time you get your green card to make the actual move.
I pitched to him the possibility of finding a position in LTC - long-term care as opposed to acute care hospitals - as I do have a lot more recent experience in this field and it is one I am comfortable working in. A good idea and viable, as this is also an area where staff are needed. I needed to revamp my resume and send it to him – he can then market me closer to D-Day.
Lots of decisions to be made … and I need to move on this soon.
I am so glad he did that. I’d lost sight of a lot of them, of all those things that first persuaded me to start this process.
Education:
He referred mainly to the school his own kids (11 and 17) attend in Irvine, CA, which is an upmarket area. Kids get an astounding education compared to here. In school, a lot of work is project-based, meaning own research and submission of paper / model / etc. His kids come home, log onto the school website, find the homework the teacher has posted for them, complete it and return it via the net. It is assumed that everyone has high-speed internet at home …Travel opportunities for all disciplines – study Spanish and you could find yourself on a trip to Spain. Travel with the school choir to festivals nationwide. The drama dept has a fully-equipped theatre, not just a school hall shared with sports activities. Backstage crew has a room full of power tools and equipment to build sets, etc. Community sport facilities are in abundance and are well-maintained - tax payers money being put to good use!
Work:
Who you are doesn’t limit what work you can do. Grannies serve you at McDonalds, for e.g. White women clean houses. Nothing is considered a demeaning job if it earns you a good wage. Jobs are not given on the basis of your age, race, sex or similar. Kids work summer jobs and earn good money – minimum wage is $7.00 ph. Babysitters get between $7 – 10.00 ph and more after midnight.
Security: This is a BIGGIE for South Africans!!
The houses have no fences, no security doors, no burglar bars, no alarm systems.
Post gets dropped in unlocked mailboxes, both delivery and to go.
Parcel deliveries are left on your doorstep if there is no one home and they don’t get stolen.
Kids can walk all over the neighborhood in safety and with freedom. (Here, I used to escort my child just to go next door, make sure she was safely inside with the gate locked before I’d go!)
Cars get left on the street, unlocked and no one worries ..
Houses get left unlocked, and no one worries …
If you are a pedestrian, the motorists stop instantly if you step into the road …
All this I know to be true, btw, from my last two visits to the US. Even in NY, when people cross the road, the traffic waits.
Cars:
A big fancy car which costs around R250 000.00 here sells for maybe $25 000.00 there – monthly repayments are around $500.00 max.
Salaries:
Most nurses earn around $30.00 average, not including benefits and overtime. Nurses are well-paid compared with the general population and live good lifestyles. Obviously, if you work in Podunk, Arkansas, you won’t earn as well, but then your cost of living is going to be much lower!
All in all, I was reminded of a million good reasons why I want to do this.
In our meeting thereafter, he told me that the INS processing time, which used to be around a year, is now down to 2 - 3 months. The paperwork for the VisaScreen credentialing goes forward simultaneously, taking also 2 – 3 months. Then, with the INS paperwork and the VisaScreen certificate in place, you request a green card interview with the US Consulate in Johannesburg. This can take 3 - 6 months to get done, depends on them. An estimated min of 6 months, max of 9 months once the paperwork is done. Yikes!!!
Hospitals are not taking on new RNs so far in advance anymore, like FRHG did. So what he is doing is sending out resumes once you are 4 - 5 months from the completion of the process, so that by the time you have your green card, you also have a good job offer with a good relocation allowance etc.
If I elect to go with the present flow, meaning we'd be there within the next 6 - 9 months, his agency will sponsor me and carry initial costs, recouping these from the sponsoring hospital later on. If I wait and go at say the end of next year, I have the option of temporarily halting the process, but that could lead to a longer wait as there is a strong possibility that with all the new emigration stuff and amnesties and whatnot, if those Bills are passed, the INS is going to be snowed under and things could get looooong and drawn out again. Or, I could elect to fund it myself, go ahead now and then make the actual move when we are ready to do so - you get six months from the time you get your green card to make the actual move.
I pitched to him the possibility of finding a position in LTC - long-term care as opposed to acute care hospitals - as I do have a lot more recent experience in this field and it is one I am comfortable working in. A good idea and viable, as this is also an area where staff are needed. I needed to revamp my resume and send it to him – he can then market me closer to D-Day.
Lots of decisions to be made … and I need to move on this soon.
Wednesday, July 19
More about the ambivalence
One of the hardest parts of being a single parent is making life-changing decisions alone. Hence my real need to look to God for help and guidance, and the real anguish I experience when I ‘think’ I hear from Him and then it all goes wrong, or doesn’t happen.
How do you trust when God seems to be either absent, or not interested, or simply doesn’t do what you thought He said he was going to do? How do you know the difference between God’s guidance and things in life just happening?
I blogged about this in relation to singleness and remarriage earlier on. The other area of huge concern to me right now is our proposed emigration plan.
Moving to the US is a dream I have had for about five years now. Where do our dreams come from, how do our desires take root in our hearts? If the Bible is to be believed, God says: “Seek the Lord in all that you do and He will give you the desires of your heart.” I thought I was being pretty smart when I interpreted that to mean if you put God first in life, then HE will place within your heart those desires that are within His will and plan for your life, and not that it meant: Love God and He’ll give you everything you want.
Earlier this year, I had a dream. I was high up in the mountains of California and there was an earthquake warning. Cars were pulling off the roads, so I stopped and expressed my fear to a woman, telling her my kids were down in the Valley, we hadn’t been in CA very long. She reassured me, and showed me where people were taking shelter in specially-built earthquake shelters in the mountainside. Huge bunkers with thick concrete and dense glass windows, they were literally earthquake proof. We all survived. I wondered if it wasn’t maybe God’s way of saying – take the plunge, I’ll take care of you even if everything seems to be going wrong around you. Take a chance.
Considering and praying further, I asked for prayer at church and a trusted friend and church leader who prayed with me shared a ‘word’ that seemed to confirm that stepping forward while trusting God to carry me was indeed the way to go. Other things fell into place as previously discussed in Life Choices and Changes Part Two. And the process got underway.
I’m battling with ambivalence right now. While my father supports this move intellectually, I can see and hear that neither he nor my dear mom are happy about us living so far away, and of course I can understand that. These are two of their precious grandchildren I’m proposing to remove from their lives. My folks are in their seventies, health is an issue and we’ll be very far away. My best friend in SA is very, very unhappy about it and is doing her best to find ways of keeping us here. My kids’ dad is now starting to express his sadness at losing regular contact with them and of course, I understand and empathize with that too! On the other side, my freelance writing and editing business seems to be taking off after two plus years of struggle. But the likelihood is that in order to secure a new contract position in the US, I’m going to have to go back into nursing fulltime here, to get current experience, either now or next year. Honestly? I have no desire to do that. Nursing is a means to an end, not an end in itself.
I’ll be meeting with the agency director this coming Saturday, and will find out where I stand in terms of jobs, process and financial commitments. Much depends on that too.
Oh, groan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Elleann
How do you trust when God seems to be either absent, or not interested, or simply doesn’t do what you thought He said he was going to do? How do you know the difference between God’s guidance and things in life just happening?
I blogged about this in relation to singleness and remarriage earlier on. The other area of huge concern to me right now is our proposed emigration plan.
Moving to the US is a dream I have had for about five years now. Where do our dreams come from, how do our desires take root in our hearts? If the Bible is to be believed, God says: “Seek the Lord in all that you do and He will give you the desires of your heart.” I thought I was being pretty smart when I interpreted that to mean if you put God first in life, then HE will place within your heart those desires that are within His will and plan for your life, and not that it meant: Love God and He’ll give you everything you want.
Earlier this year, I had a dream. I was high up in the mountains of California and there was an earthquake warning. Cars were pulling off the roads, so I stopped and expressed my fear to a woman, telling her my kids were down in the Valley, we hadn’t been in CA very long. She reassured me, and showed me where people were taking shelter in specially-built earthquake shelters in the mountainside. Huge bunkers with thick concrete and dense glass windows, they were literally earthquake proof. We all survived. I wondered if it wasn’t maybe God’s way of saying – take the plunge, I’ll take care of you even if everything seems to be going wrong around you. Take a chance.
Considering and praying further, I asked for prayer at church and a trusted friend and church leader who prayed with me shared a ‘word’ that seemed to confirm that stepping forward while trusting God to carry me was indeed the way to go. Other things fell into place as previously discussed in Life Choices and Changes Part Two. And the process got underway.
I’m battling with ambivalence right now. While my father supports this move intellectually, I can see and hear that neither he nor my dear mom are happy about us living so far away, and of course I can understand that. These are two of their precious grandchildren I’m proposing to remove from their lives. My folks are in their seventies, health is an issue and we’ll be very far away. My best friend in SA is very, very unhappy about it and is doing her best to find ways of keeping us here. My kids’ dad is now starting to express his sadness at losing regular contact with them and of course, I understand and empathize with that too! On the other side, my freelance writing and editing business seems to be taking off after two plus years of struggle. But the likelihood is that in order to secure a new contract position in the US, I’m going to have to go back into nursing fulltime here, to get current experience, either now or next year. Honestly? I have no desire to do that. Nursing is a means to an end, not an end in itself.
I’ll be meeting with the agency director this coming Saturday, and will find out where I stand in terms of jobs, process and financial commitments. Much depends on that too.
Oh, groan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Elleann
Open letter to God.
I can lose myself in writing, or in reading, or in watching a DVD, in emailing with friends, or in endless, fascinating web-surfing … I can talk about moving to America or not moving, I can talk about great new job opportunities, I can talk about my wonderful kids and my hopes for them, but none of this addresses the real questions that are buried deep in my heart at the moment.
Is God really real?
Does He actually care about us individually?
And if so, is there anyway to really, really, REALLY hear from him?
I have such skepticism about this right now, such doubt, and such a need to KNOW!
I had an experience several years ago (Oct 2003, to be exact) where I ‘thought’ I heard God speak to me. Now, I’m definitely not given to mystical experiences. I don’t hear voices or see visions. I have, like many others, done my time on my knees with the Bible open before, seeking guidance or at least a ‘word’ from God. I’ve even opened the Bible at random and stuck a finger in! What a joke!
Once before, I believed I ‘heard’ God speaking to me. Back in 1984, I was a shy, unconfident twenty-something, with a track record of few romantic relationships. I’d made a recommitment to Christianity and found my way to a nice church. I met a nice enough guy, we went out a few times, he seemed interested, but I didn’t really know … then in church one Sunday night, this ‘voice’ sounds in my head: “You have met your future husband and he is XXXX.” Zing!
I married that guy within 6 months and divorced him ten years later. Now, did I marry him because I was madly in love, or because I saw a good father for my future children, or because I couldn’t live without him? No, no and no. More like I was afraid of never marrying at all, several of my friends were also getting married, here was someone who was interested enough to propose (albeit not very romantically), and I believed God had told me he was to be my husband.
So, jump forward to 2003. Single again, I’d just read a brilliant, brilliant book by Larry Crabb called Shattered Dreams and had walked thru an experience of truly accepting that if God intended for me to stay alone forever more, that was fine with me. I would look to Him to meet all my needs for love, nurturing, provision, and so. After all, doesn’t He promise in the Bible to care for widows and orphans (and presumably divorcees too)? In fact, it was a time in my life when I was deeply, deeply in love with God
So, I’m driving my daughter somewhere and we see a procession of wedding cars go by, festooned with ribbons and whatnot. My usual, cynical, knee-jerk reaction kicked in:
Poor things! Such optimism, such hope, such fools to believe it can work out!
Next thing, I ‘hear’ somewhere inside me: “By this time next year, you will be married again.” Zing! Just like that, a promise, I thought, from God. I was a turbulent mix of emotions, but above all, my response was “ … only if this is Your will for me, Lord.”
I diarized the date, recorded the experience, sought confirmation in a sign, was given that sign the same day—and then I waited, with the prayer continually on my lips that God would enable me to continue looking to Him first, not to some guy I had yet to meet. I really focused on keeping God first, in seeking Him in all things. I even shared it with my minister’s wife, who said that God had told her that he was answering my prayer for remarriage in the affirmative.
Well, the year came and went, and another one, and another one … and I’m not married. At this point, I don’t even know any eligible, available men that I’d want to marry.
So, what do I make of that? Was it God? If so, did He change his mind? Was it a test of my faith to see if I will still trust in God even if He appears to be breaking His promise to me? Or did He answer my prayer by NOT letting it happen because it wasn’t His will and he wanted to see if I meant what I said by “… only if its Your will? Was it not God at all, but the Devil, attempting to deceive me? Or was it just me, indulging in some heavy wishful thinking and God had absolutely nothing to do with it?
How the heck can I ever know? All I DO know, for an absolute fact, is that nowadays I am deeply mistrustful of ‘words from God’, whether they come into my head or thru someone else’s lips.
Tbc
Elleann
Is God really real?
Does He actually care about us individually?
And if so, is there anyway to really, really, REALLY hear from him?
I have such skepticism about this right now, such doubt, and such a need to KNOW!
I had an experience several years ago (Oct 2003, to be exact) where I ‘thought’ I heard God speak to me. Now, I’m definitely not given to mystical experiences. I don’t hear voices or see visions. I have, like many others, done my time on my knees with the Bible open before, seeking guidance or at least a ‘word’ from God. I’ve even opened the Bible at random and stuck a finger in! What a joke!
Once before, I believed I ‘heard’ God speaking to me. Back in 1984, I was a shy, unconfident twenty-something, with a track record of few romantic relationships. I’d made a recommitment to Christianity and found my way to a nice church. I met a nice enough guy, we went out a few times, he seemed interested, but I didn’t really know … then in church one Sunday night, this ‘voice’ sounds in my head: “You have met your future husband and he is XXXX.” Zing!
I married that guy within 6 months and divorced him ten years later. Now, did I marry him because I was madly in love, or because I saw a good father for my future children, or because I couldn’t live without him? No, no and no. More like I was afraid of never marrying at all, several of my friends were also getting married, here was someone who was interested enough to propose (albeit not very romantically), and I believed God had told me he was to be my husband.
So, jump forward to 2003. Single again, I’d just read a brilliant, brilliant book by Larry Crabb called Shattered Dreams and had walked thru an experience of truly accepting that if God intended for me to stay alone forever more, that was fine with me. I would look to Him to meet all my needs for love, nurturing, provision, and so. After all, doesn’t He promise in the Bible to care for widows and orphans (and presumably divorcees too)? In fact, it was a time in my life when I was deeply, deeply in love with God
So, I’m driving my daughter somewhere and we see a procession of wedding cars go by, festooned with ribbons and whatnot. My usual, cynical, knee-jerk reaction kicked in:
Poor things! Such optimism, such hope, such fools to believe it can work out!
Next thing, I ‘hear’ somewhere inside me: “By this time next year, you will be married again.” Zing! Just like that, a promise, I thought, from God. I was a turbulent mix of emotions, but above all, my response was “ … only if this is Your will for me, Lord.”
I diarized the date, recorded the experience, sought confirmation in a sign, was given that sign the same day—and then I waited, with the prayer continually on my lips that God would enable me to continue looking to Him first, not to some guy I had yet to meet. I really focused on keeping God first, in seeking Him in all things. I even shared it with my minister’s wife, who said that God had told her that he was answering my prayer for remarriage in the affirmative.
Well, the year came and went, and another one, and another one … and I’m not married. At this point, I don’t even know any eligible, available men that I’d want to marry.
So, what do I make of that? Was it God? If so, did He change his mind? Was it a test of my faith to see if I will still trust in God even if He appears to be breaking His promise to me? Or did He answer my prayer by NOT letting it happen because it wasn’t His will and he wanted to see if I meant what I said by “… only if its Your will? Was it not God at all, but the Devil, attempting to deceive me? Or was it just me, indulging in some heavy wishful thinking and God had absolutely nothing to do with it?
How the heck can I ever know? All I DO know, for an absolute fact, is that nowadays I am deeply mistrustful of ‘words from God’, whether they come into my head or thru someone else’s lips.
Tbc
Elleann
Monday, July 17
Ambivalence
Today I got what felt like a real kick in the stomach.
My ex sent me an email in which he first complained about how much money all the kids' stuff is costing him. Now in fairness, not once in twelve years has he ever defaulted on paying anything for the kids. He is very, very committed to them, is as involved in their lives as he can be, and loves them dearly. Ten out of ten for being a good dad!
But actually, the money thing wasn’t the kick in the stomach. He went on to say:
I am feeling quite sore about the kids right now. The holiday was a very sad one for me, looking at them each day, thinking this is probably the last time we'll go on such a holiday and that soon I'll only be seeing them once a year, if that, depending on their timetables. Whatever, it is just rather emotional and the possibility of either of them ever living in my home for a while slips away as the plans for moving to the USA fall into place and the day draws closer. It has cost me a lot to stay in touch with them over the years, emotionally and financially but progressively they have been moved further and further away and it requires more and more to keep up the contact!!!
I can empathize with the emotional pain he feels. I really can. And the last few blog entries have revealed my ambivalence re the whole moving to America thing from my side. But the last part (in bold) was a real kicker. He makes it sound as if I have deliberately kept moving them further and further away from him, which is totally untrue.
After we separated back in 1994, we lived round the corner from him for three and a half years. Then, after discussing it with him, the kids and I moved away from that upmarket suburban area to a more rural environment. As a single working mom, I didn’t think I could keep up with the lifestyles they would see around them in that part of town, and I didn’t want them to grow up feel deprived, or less-than just because we couldn’t afford all the latest gadgets and cars and stuff. And it was the right choice to make for them, I think. They have happy lives and good friends, are well-adjusted, have both committed their lives to God, and they are both doing pretty well in school too. Financially it has been nip-and-tuck, but on the whole, we are doing well – on the pro side: I bought the house we live in five years ago. On the con side: I drive a crappy old clunky car.
But moving here was a bad choice for me, in terms of my staying single, though. This area is full of happy little families and retirees – eligible singles can be counted on one hand. Now, if this were a movie, there’d be someone like Viggo Mortensen running the local bookshop – sorry, Vig – artshop! and after some ups and downs, we’d fall madly in love and live happily ever after. But my life is more like one of those dark, dreary art movies where nothing is ever resolved and you come out of the movie house going “Huh? What the f--- was that all about?!!?”
I digress. I’ve responded to his email, expressed my hurt and acknowledged the pain he feels. Leave it at that.
Update: He responded to my mail, said sorry for "passing on my upheaval over money and all that stuff onto you. It's how I feel, not a statement of fact."
I figured as much, but I guess my ambivalence and worries got to me as well, hence my overreaction. Back to my art movie life ...
My ex sent me an email in which he first complained about how much money all the kids' stuff is costing him. Now in fairness, not once in twelve years has he ever defaulted on paying anything for the kids. He is very, very committed to them, is as involved in their lives as he can be, and loves them dearly. Ten out of ten for being a good dad!
But actually, the money thing wasn’t the kick in the stomach. He went on to say:
I am feeling quite sore about the kids right now. The holiday was a very sad one for me, looking at them each day, thinking this is probably the last time we'll go on such a holiday and that soon I'll only be seeing them once a year, if that, depending on their timetables. Whatever, it is just rather emotional and the possibility of either of them ever living in my home for a while slips away as the plans for moving to the USA fall into place and the day draws closer. It has cost me a lot to stay in touch with them over the years, emotionally and financially but progressively they have been moved further and further away and it requires more and more to keep up the contact!!!
I can empathize with the emotional pain he feels. I really can. And the last few blog entries have revealed my ambivalence re the whole moving to America thing from my side. But the last part (in bold) was a real kicker. He makes it sound as if I have deliberately kept moving them further and further away from him, which is totally untrue.
After we separated back in 1994, we lived round the corner from him for three and a half years. Then, after discussing it with him, the kids and I moved away from that upmarket suburban area to a more rural environment. As a single working mom, I didn’t think I could keep up with the lifestyles they would see around them in that part of town, and I didn’t want them to grow up feel deprived, or less-than just because we couldn’t afford all the latest gadgets and cars and stuff. And it was the right choice to make for them, I think. They have happy lives and good friends, are well-adjusted, have both committed their lives to God, and they are both doing pretty well in school too. Financially it has been nip-and-tuck, but on the whole, we are doing well – on the pro side: I bought the house we live in five years ago. On the con side: I drive a crappy old clunky car.
But moving here was a bad choice for me, in terms of my staying single, though. This area is full of happy little families and retirees – eligible singles can be counted on one hand. Now, if this were a movie, there’d be someone like Viggo Mortensen running the local bookshop – sorry, Vig – artshop! and after some ups and downs, we’d fall madly in love and live happily ever after. But my life is more like one of those dark, dreary art movies where nothing is ever resolved and you come out of the movie house going “Huh? What the f--- was that all about?!!?”
I digress. I’ve responded to his email, expressed my hurt and acknowledged the pain he feels. Leave it at that.
Update: He responded to my mail, said sorry for "passing on my upheaval over money and all that stuff onto you. It's how I feel, not a statement of fact."
I figured as much, but I guess my ambivalence and worries got to me as well, hence my overreaction. Back to my art movie life ...
Sunday, July 16
Writer's Paralysis ...
… is what I think I've got.
Writer’s Paralysis worse than Writer’s Block, ‘cos WB usually means you don’t quite know where to go next in your story, but WP means you can’t even get that story going because you don’t know what the story is about; you don’t know what you want it to be about; you don’t know what genre it’s supposed to be; you don’t know who the characters are, or where they live, or why they may or may not do any or all or none of the things you might ask them to do. You have serious doubts, and I mean really serious doubts, about whether you will ever be able to be the writer you always dreamed of being.
Writer’s Paralysis is hell.
Throughout the last six to nine months I’ve dreamed of the moment when my exam would be behind me and I would be free to write again. That time is here and thank you very much, I now have Writer’s Paralysis!! I sit and gaze at the bright, blank screen of my lovely new notebook computer and feel nothing but weakness and despair. I lie in a steaming hot bath, a place which usually unleashes ideas, connections, insights and understanding, and all I get is hot and sweaty and prune-textured finger tips. Instead of walking along the beach getting invigorated and inspired, I moulder away the hours in aimless net-surfing and dvd-watching and food cupboard-visiting.
This morning, searching for inspiration, I read an excerpt from an article that appeared in the NY Times online edition of Book News, about author Kim Edwards (48) and her debut novel ‘The Memory Keeper’s Daughter’ which is apparently zooming up the trade paperback best seller charts. “With the ethical dilemma and family drama at its heart, “The Memory Keeper’s Daughter” is appealing to readers who want a literary page turner…” Ah! A new novelist my age, writing the kind of book I’d most like to write! So I went and checked her out, hoping to maybe uncover a secret or two, a trick to breaking out of WP, and breaking into good writing (not to mention bestsellerdom!). The excerpt from the novel on Amazon looked really, really good – beautiful word flow, characterization, everything … so on to her bio:
Kim Edwards is the author of a short story collection, The Secrets of a Fire King, which was an alternate for the 1998 PEN/Hemingway Award, and has won both a Whiting Award and the Nelson Algren Award. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, she currently teaches writing at the University of Kentucky.
Despair. How can a South African-born and raised woman with no education in literature or writing ever hope to write that way? I just don’t have the grounding, the education, the understanding, or the way with words that people like Kim Edwards, Sue Monk Kidder, Marilynne Robinson and Ann Patchett have. I don’t have the flow of ideas and gift for dialogue and characterization that my talented and prolific writing friend Pat has. All I have right now is the fear that if I don’t get past this, I may never, ever become a writer of any description at all. And if I am not a writer, then what am I?
Nothing?
Maybe this is part of the paralysis – the fear that if I don’t succeed as a writer, then my life will have been meaningless. After all, as a divorcee in her late forties with a minor weight problem and braces, as a freelancer who lives from job to job, as a single who has had no ‘relationship’ for nearly ten years, there’s a large part of me that feels like a hideous failure. Yes, I have wonderful kids and yes, I have a few dear friends, and yes, I am relatively healthy, and yes, for the moment I’m surviving financially. But is that enough for me to call my life ‘successful’? If so, why do I feel this pressing need to move to the US? Why do I feel that if I don’t get writing again very soon, I’ll be sinking into some kind of pit of mediocrity and loss from which I may never emerge?
There are other factors that contribute to this paralysis, I know, that I need to face up to and smash down, if I am to move past this. It feels very much like the fight I sometimes have to keep hold of my faith in God, the fight I sometimes have to keep depression at bay, the fight I often have to not give in to the feelings of loneliness that being single generates. When it feels like there’s a rock in my gut, and all I can see is mud and slime and darkness, and all I feel like doing is crying. And therein lies a clue …
Because I have come to see that crying is a safe place for me. When I cry, I’m giving in to the feelings. I’m giving up, I’m saying ‘I can’t do anything about this, whatever it may be’. I can be passive, and bitter, and feel sorry for myself. And while that’s uncomfortable, it’s also safe. No scary changing-of-attitude needed. No scary ‘I’m going to get past this’ decision.
And that is why I’m back in Lord of the Rings territory (my all-time favorite movies). Partly Frodo making his decision to carry the ring at the Council of Elrond, partly Frodo staring up at the fires of Mount Doom, but mainly Aragorn at the entrance to Dimholt Road after Elrond says to him: “Put aside the ranger. Become who you were born to be.” Frodo had Sam by his side, but Aragorn stepped out alone, not even knowing whether he would survive but prepared to risk all to try and become who he was born to be.
The way to go? I think so…
Elleann.
Writer’s Paralysis worse than Writer’s Block, ‘cos WB usually means you don’t quite know where to go next in your story, but WP means you can’t even get that story going because you don’t know what the story is about; you don’t know what you want it to be about; you don’t know what genre it’s supposed to be; you don’t know who the characters are, or where they live, or why they may or may not do any or all or none of the things you might ask them to do. You have serious doubts, and I mean really serious doubts, about whether you will ever be able to be the writer you always dreamed of being.
Writer’s Paralysis is hell.
Throughout the last six to nine months I’ve dreamed of the moment when my exam would be behind me and I would be free to write again. That time is here and thank you very much, I now have Writer’s Paralysis!! I sit and gaze at the bright, blank screen of my lovely new notebook computer and feel nothing but weakness and despair. I lie in a steaming hot bath, a place which usually unleashes ideas, connections, insights and understanding, and all I get is hot and sweaty and prune-textured finger tips. Instead of walking along the beach getting invigorated and inspired, I moulder away the hours in aimless net-surfing and dvd-watching and food cupboard-visiting.
This morning, searching for inspiration, I read an excerpt from an article that appeared in the NY Times online edition of Book News, about author Kim Edwards (48) and her debut novel ‘The Memory Keeper’s Daughter’ which is apparently zooming up the trade paperback best seller charts. “With the ethical dilemma and family drama at its heart, “The Memory Keeper’s Daughter” is appealing to readers who want a literary page turner…” Ah! A new novelist my age, writing the kind of book I’d most like to write! So I went and checked her out, hoping to maybe uncover a secret or two, a trick to breaking out of WP, and breaking into good writing (not to mention bestsellerdom!). The excerpt from the novel on Amazon looked really, really good – beautiful word flow, characterization, everything … so on to her bio:
Kim Edwards is the author of a short story collection, The Secrets of a Fire King, which was an alternate for the 1998 PEN/Hemingway Award, and has won both a Whiting Award and the Nelson Algren Award. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, she currently teaches writing at the University of Kentucky.
Despair. How can a South African-born and raised woman with no education in literature or writing ever hope to write that way? I just don’t have the grounding, the education, the understanding, or the way with words that people like Kim Edwards, Sue Monk Kidder, Marilynne Robinson and Ann Patchett have. I don’t have the flow of ideas and gift for dialogue and characterization that my talented and prolific writing friend Pat has. All I have right now is the fear that if I don’t get past this, I may never, ever become a writer of any description at all. And if I am not a writer, then what am I?
Nothing?
Maybe this is part of the paralysis – the fear that if I don’t succeed as a writer, then my life will have been meaningless. After all, as a divorcee in her late forties with a minor weight problem and braces, as a freelancer who lives from job to job, as a single who has had no ‘relationship’ for nearly ten years, there’s a large part of me that feels like a hideous failure. Yes, I have wonderful kids and yes, I have a few dear friends, and yes, I am relatively healthy, and yes, for the moment I’m surviving financially. But is that enough for me to call my life ‘successful’? If so, why do I feel this pressing need to move to the US? Why do I feel that if I don’t get writing again very soon, I’ll be sinking into some kind of pit of mediocrity and loss from which I may never emerge?
There are other factors that contribute to this paralysis, I know, that I need to face up to and smash down, if I am to move past this. It feels very much like the fight I sometimes have to keep hold of my faith in God, the fight I sometimes have to keep depression at bay, the fight I often have to not give in to the feelings of loneliness that being single generates. When it feels like there’s a rock in my gut, and all I can see is mud and slime and darkness, and all I feel like doing is crying. And therein lies a clue …
Because I have come to see that crying is a safe place for me. When I cry, I’m giving in to the feelings. I’m giving up, I’m saying ‘I can’t do anything about this, whatever it may be’. I can be passive, and bitter, and feel sorry for myself. And while that’s uncomfortable, it’s also safe. No scary changing-of-attitude needed. No scary ‘I’m going to get past this’ decision.
And that is why I’m back in Lord of the Rings territory (my all-time favorite movies). Partly Frodo making his decision to carry the ring at the Council of Elrond, partly Frodo staring up at the fires of Mount Doom, but mainly Aragorn at the entrance to Dimholt Road after Elrond says to him: “Put aside the ranger. Become who you were born to be.” Frodo had Sam by his side, but Aragorn stepped out alone, not even knowing whether he would survive but prepared to risk all to try and become who he was born to be.
The way to go? I think so…
Elleann.
Thursday, July 13
Happy Birthday to Me!
A week late, maybe, but today I gave myself a present that will (hopefully) be around for a long time. At the ripe old age of … pick a number … I was fitted with orthodontic braces. The bottom row is normal metallic-looking, but the top row includes what they call clear braces, the almost-not-there kind of braces. They’re going to be on for at least 16 months.
A dear friend who is my age had her bottom teeth done about a year ago. Her husband, who is a couple of years younger than both of us, wanted to know why we were bothering with teeth straightening. He didn’t actually come out and say ‘… at your age’, but you could kind of hear it echoing there anyway. She told him it’s because we can’t afford to go for facelifts. He looked blank. I guess it’s a girl thing ….
I asked the orthodontist how old his oldest patient ever was and he said: ‘A man in his eighties.’ Next oldest, he added, was a retired professor in his sixties. I quickly changed the subject before he could go on to say ‘…and then there’s you.’
My mouth feels truly weird, all tight and constrained and odd. 16 months of this? I can’t even chew yet – soup for lunch, soup for supper – even the bit of bread I made all soggy and squashed up felt impossible to eat.
Dear God, maybe I’ll end up skinny after all! Skinny with glasses and braces? Hurrah, I’ve always felt like I missed out on being a real teenager, maybe I’m getting a chance to relive those years after all. So, bring on the hot boys! But come to think of it, these braces probably mean death to any dreams of romance for this single. Who’d want to kiss a forty-something with a mouth full of metal?
What was I thinking?!?!
Happy birthday to me!
A dear friend who is my age had her bottom teeth done about a year ago. Her husband, who is a couple of years younger than both of us, wanted to know why we were bothering with teeth straightening. He didn’t actually come out and say ‘… at your age’, but you could kind of hear it echoing there anyway. She told him it’s because we can’t afford to go for facelifts. He looked blank. I guess it’s a girl thing ….
I asked the orthodontist how old his oldest patient ever was and he said: ‘A man in his eighties.’ Next oldest, he added, was a retired professor in his sixties. I quickly changed the subject before he could go on to say ‘…and then there’s you.’
My mouth feels truly weird, all tight and constrained and odd. 16 months of this? I can’t even chew yet – soup for lunch, soup for supper – even the bit of bread I made all soggy and squashed up felt impossible to eat.
Dear God, maybe I’ll end up skinny after all! Skinny with glasses and braces? Hurrah, I’ve always felt like I missed out on being a real teenager, maybe I’m getting a chance to relive those years after all. So, bring on the hot boys! But come to think of it, these braces probably mean death to any dreams of romance for this single. Who’d want to kiss a forty-something with a mouth full of metal?
What was I thinking?!?!
Happy birthday to me!
Tuesday, July 11
I haven't been there in the longest time ...
Back in my youth, I was a Billy Joel fan. (Yeah, my kids laugh at me too … ) But lately, I’ve been listening to him again, after I downloaded some of his music to my laptop. And I mean really listening, to the point of going to websites to read the lyrics. And today, I was listening to yet another old, familiar favorite song when suddenly I started really listening. And this song stirred all those nameless longings in me again …
The Longest Time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
If you said goodbye to me tonight
There would still be music left to write
What else could I do
I'm so inspired by you
That hasn't happened for the longest time
Once I thought my innocence was gone
Now I know that happiness goes on
That's where you found me
When you put your arms around me
I haven't been there for the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest
I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall
And the greatest miracle of all
Is how I need you
And how you needed me too
That hasn't happened for the longest time
Maybe this won't last very long
But you feel so right
And I could be wrong
Maybe I've been hoping too hard
But I've gone this far
And it's more than I hoped for
Who knows how much further we'll go on
Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone
I'll take my chances
I forgot how nice romance is
I haven't been there for the longest time
I had second thoughts at the start
I said to myself
Hold on to your heart
Now I know the woman that you are
You're wonderful so far
And it's more than I hoped for
I don't care what consequence it brings
I have been a fool for lesser things
I want you so bad
I think you ought to know that
I intend to hold you for the longest time
(Thanks to Matt's Music Page for the lyrics. )
Elleann.
The Longest Time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
If you said goodbye to me tonight
There would still be music left to write
What else could I do
I'm so inspired by you
That hasn't happened for the longest time
Once I thought my innocence was gone
Now I know that happiness goes on
That's where you found me
When you put your arms around me
I haven't been there for the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest
I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall
And the greatest miracle of all
Is how I need you
And how you needed me too
That hasn't happened for the longest time
Maybe this won't last very long
But you feel so right
And I could be wrong
Maybe I've been hoping too hard
But I've gone this far
And it's more than I hoped for
Who knows how much further we'll go on
Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone
I'll take my chances
I forgot how nice romance is
I haven't been there for the longest time
I had second thoughts at the start
I said to myself
Hold on to your heart
Now I know the woman that you are
You're wonderful so far
And it's more than I hoped for
I don't care what consequence it brings
I have been a fool for lesser things
I want you so bad
I think you ought to know that
I intend to hold you for the longest time
(Thanks to Matt's Music Page for the lyrics. )
Elleann.
Life changes and choices - Part Two
“More tomorrow” should have read “More Next Month!” Ha!
Back in the mid-1990s, I became aware that more and more companies were recruiting SA nurses for positions in the UK, Saudi, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the US. Now, in my heart of hearts, I’ve never been ‘Proudly South African’! Yes, this country is beautiful and yes, my family all live here. But still I yearned to move somewhere – anywhere, really – that wasn’t crime-ridden, corrupt, full of white guilt and black anger, where jobs weren’t handed out on the basis of skin color, where my kids would have real opportunities to follow their dreams and live in relative peace and safety.
I wanted out.
But my kids were still young and needed their dad, and he needed them. So I put it to one side, all the time thinking – I could leave anytime, if I really wanted to. Until, in early 2005, I realized that time was ticking by and the possibility for me to emigrate wouldn’t be around forever. I did my research and honed in on a small company that specialized in placing nurses in the US – a girl I knew had made the move through them and she was very happy. I called them, and learned that the US director was in CT – a twice-yearly occurrence. I met with him the next day and within a week, things were underway.
The big plus of going with him was that he recruited for a hospital group that, unlike just about every other agency and group, did not require the prospective nurse-emigrant to be currently fulltime employed as a nurse. My part-time relief work was regarded as sufficient in the light of my CV. In July, I received an excellent job offer. The deal included a generous relocation allowance, plus the hospital would cover all the expenses related to licensing fees, visas, INS services, most of the flight costs etc, for my two kids and I. So I went for the medicals, and started studying for the NCLEX – the US nursing board exam which you have to pass to be licensed as an RN in the States.
Then, at the end of the year, the blow fell. The US hospital underwent an internal reshuffle and recruitment of foreign nurses got axed. I now had no guarantee of work or of financial support for the move. But I couldn’t give up. There had been so many ‘clear signs’ – a dream I’d had, words from a minister I respected, the timing of my meeting with the agency and so on. So I studied like crazy for the next six months and in June 2006, I flew to the UK, took the NCLEX exam in London—and passed it first time. So I am now officially licensed to practice in the USA!
So, now I stand at the door of my future. I’ll be meeting with my US agent in about ten days time and hope to learn from him what the job situation is, how the whole thing could play out. There are so many factors here, though. I’m not a specialist nurse, even though I have previous experience in ICU. So I’d probably need to find a basic med-surg position somewhere. Somewhere, of course, is a whole other story in itself.
But back here at home, my freelance writing and editing career is going from strength to strength. I just landed a contract position with an ad agency to write web copy for a major restaurant group, which has several websites that need weekly updating. Articles, stories, event coverage, educational stuff… interesting work and great experience for me as a freelance. I’m also part of a team pitching on a big tender project, which, if won, could mean several months’ steady work at a really good rate!
However, if current employment as an RN is an issue for a future employer in the US, this may mean I need to go back to nursing here and now, in SA, at miserable rates of pay.
What I’d really like, of course, is to find a job in the US that uses my writing and editing skills against a background of healthcare or nursing, meaning I don’t need to go into hospital work now. Best of both worlds, see?
It’s a dream. A dream I can only leave in God’s hands, cos He’s the one who made me the way I am, gave me the skills, talents, yearnings and desires that I have. So, it’s over to Him.
Elleann.
Back in the mid-1990s, I became aware that more and more companies were recruiting SA nurses for positions in the UK, Saudi, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the US. Now, in my heart of hearts, I’ve never been ‘Proudly South African’! Yes, this country is beautiful and yes, my family all live here. But still I yearned to move somewhere – anywhere, really – that wasn’t crime-ridden, corrupt, full of white guilt and black anger, where jobs weren’t handed out on the basis of skin color, where my kids would have real opportunities to follow their dreams and live in relative peace and safety.
I wanted out.
But my kids were still young and needed their dad, and he needed them. So I put it to one side, all the time thinking – I could leave anytime, if I really wanted to. Until, in early 2005, I realized that time was ticking by and the possibility for me to emigrate wouldn’t be around forever. I did my research and honed in on a small company that specialized in placing nurses in the US – a girl I knew had made the move through them and she was very happy. I called them, and learned that the US director was in CT – a twice-yearly occurrence. I met with him the next day and within a week, things were underway.
The big plus of going with him was that he recruited for a hospital group that, unlike just about every other agency and group, did not require the prospective nurse-emigrant to be currently fulltime employed as a nurse. My part-time relief work was regarded as sufficient in the light of my CV. In July, I received an excellent job offer. The deal included a generous relocation allowance, plus the hospital would cover all the expenses related to licensing fees, visas, INS services, most of the flight costs etc, for my two kids and I. So I went for the medicals, and started studying for the NCLEX – the US nursing board exam which you have to pass to be licensed as an RN in the States.
Then, at the end of the year, the blow fell. The US hospital underwent an internal reshuffle and recruitment of foreign nurses got axed. I now had no guarantee of work or of financial support for the move. But I couldn’t give up. There had been so many ‘clear signs’ – a dream I’d had, words from a minister I respected, the timing of my meeting with the agency and so on. So I studied like crazy for the next six months and in June 2006, I flew to the UK, took the NCLEX exam in London—and passed it first time. So I am now officially licensed to practice in the USA!
So, now I stand at the door of my future. I’ll be meeting with my US agent in about ten days time and hope to learn from him what the job situation is, how the whole thing could play out. There are so many factors here, though. I’m not a specialist nurse, even though I have previous experience in ICU. So I’d probably need to find a basic med-surg position somewhere. Somewhere, of course, is a whole other story in itself.
But back here at home, my freelance writing and editing career is going from strength to strength. I just landed a contract position with an ad agency to write web copy for a major restaurant group, which has several websites that need weekly updating. Articles, stories, event coverage, educational stuff… interesting work and great experience for me as a freelance. I’m also part of a team pitching on a big tender project, which, if won, could mean several months’ steady work at a really good rate!
However, if current employment as an RN is an issue for a future employer in the US, this may mean I need to go back to nursing here and now, in SA, at miserable rates of pay.
What I’d really like, of course, is to find a job in the US that uses my writing and editing skills against a background of healthcare or nursing, meaning I don’t need to go into hospital work now. Best of both worlds, see?
It’s a dream. A dream I can only leave in God’s hands, cos He’s the one who made me the way I am, gave me the skills, talents, yearnings and desires that I have. So, it’s over to Him.
Elleann.
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