Somewhere back in the early 90's, I was working on a temp assignment, and I pulled out a counter extension to see what the little paper sticking out of it was.  Turns out it was a full sheet of paper with a quote written on it, at that time credited to "Unknown".  At the time I first read that quote, I was a young, single mother having serious financial difficulties, and not sure if I had the right tools to be any form or fashion of even semi-decent parent (My how times have changed.  <<<shrugs>>>).  The words really resonated with me, and I found myself pulling out that counter extension to read the quote multiple times a day for the duration of that particular assignment.  As the assignment came to an end, I wanted to keep the quote with me, so I scribbled it down on a piece of paper, which I promptly lost on the way home.  But the quote was never far from my mind, and as soon as I obtained a PC, internet access and a printer at home (Thank You, Income Tax return!), I looked up the quote, printed it out, and it has remained at the forefront of my thoughts for going on 20 years now, as well as always having a prominent place on whatever desk I currently call home. To this day, I still read this quote multiple times a day, as it reminds me of the way I actually want to live my life.

Here is the quote as I first read it:

Such a small notion, that of what the original author thought comprised a life, lived fully.  What I found, many years later, was that this was part of a much longer document titled the Spiritual Laws and Concepts of Pathwork. A great deal of reading for anyone interested, but what stood out most to me was the overall reach of moving oneself to a solid place internally.  That had been an ongoing struggle for me back then, and is still a large part of my emotional and physical makeup today.  Would I continue to live the limited life of low expectations of a young, single parent with only a high school education in the inner city, or would I try to expand my options, branch out, and stop allowing other's low opinions of me dictate my own expectations for myself?

It took me a long time to completely grasp each of those concepts; putting them into practice was another huge step, but I am still making small progress each day.

It is impossible to live completely without fear, as there will always be some issue, incident or object that triggers the fear response.  Controlling how you respond to those triggers, as well as sorting out what is truly worth fearing is what makes the difference between living your life, and merely surviving. My biggest fears currently are homelessness (having already experienced it once), and the myriad number of things that could happen to my children.  A fear response would have me doing things I probably shouldn't to make sure the first would happen, and becoming overprotective to avoid the second.  Living life without fear, has for me anyway, meant knowing in the back of my mind that homelessness is a real possibility, while continually working to improve my financial situation while not jeopardizing my job or my legal status. It has meant not embracing a fear based parenting model, that allows me to teach my children about the dangers they will face in a way that is closer to "Be aware of what's going on around you", than "Be afraid of everyone that is different from you". Living in control of my fears has led to to take chances in education (multiple tries at finishing a degree), relationships (Yes, I do flirt "out of my league".  Why not? It's fun for me, and an ego boost for them.  No harm, no foul.), and career (moving from Clerical to Technology).  I've had as many successes as I've had had things crash and burn, but even with the failures, I've learned lessons I would not have learned had I not at least tried to make some change in the way I was already living.

Living without self-pity is harder than it sounds, especially if things tend to not go well as a series, rather than one at a time, spread far enough apart where you have the emotional time and energy to deal with each item as it comes up.  In my world, when it rains, it really does tend to pour.  Usually, as soon as I cut one branch off some thorny issue, another entire bush grows in it's place.  That stiff upper lip hurts when you hold it for too long, and the self-pity party group at least puts you in some sort of company, especially when you begin to feel like you are going through a lot of this alone.  A lifetime of dealing with migraines has taught me that while bottling my feelings of sadness, anger and occasional helplessness might look cool on the outside, I was paying a helluva price for it, health-wise, on the inside.  Giving myself permission to feel whatever it was I was feeling, with the caveat that I had to be prepared to put everything in perspective, and sort through what could be done, versus those issues I couldn't do anything about, saved my sanity more often than I care to admit.

I have never met anyone, in my entire life, that was not afraid of being hurt, be it physically, emotionally, spiritually, or in any other way.  I am no exception to this phenomenon of guarding certain parts of myself from those who might see my vulnerabilities as an opportunity to inflict damage for their own amusement, or the entertainment of others.  As someone who strives to live as authentically as possible, I have to live with the knowledge that there are people in this world that are only too happy to abuse anybody they consider fair game, and as such it is best to hone at least a minimal level of discernment.  The enduring lessons of a culture that devalues minority women, especially those with obviously ethnic features, has ensured that there are multiple generations of minority women that treat every interaction in life as a direct threat, viewing all through the lens of their emotional guard, always ready to protect the most delicate parts of themselves. They will survive in this life, most of us will, but if you dig down deep enough, you will realize that most of them never really get a chance to live.

Mostly, I strive to be happy.  To have that sort of internal peace that helps me realize that I've done what I can, weathered whatever storms came up, and am okay with how things are now, even if they are not perfect, or even particularly good.  That is how I define Real Happiness.  I know there are those who would focus on financial freedom as an indicator of happiness, and I don't deny that taking away money worries would free up a great deal of mental and emotional space for spiritual development, but, the steps mentioned here are all free.  Getting one's head right, as it were, can be done no matter what stage of life you're in, your financial status, or your current circumstances.  Well worth doing, I think, no matter who you are.

As I look at the plain white sheet of paper currently hanging over my desk, re-typed in the only version of the quote I could find, I am reminded of my ongoing goal.  Being present.  Living kindly, gently, and well.  And striving for real happiness.

I certainly didn't think I'd find myself back in this same place after so many years.  Then again, my luck hasn't always been great, and making desperate decisions based on which was the lesser of two evils doesn't exactly make for the best of circumstances either.  I know, based on the most recent financial news, that I am not the only person going through these issues.  There are two entire generations that are struggling financially, and can no longer make ends meet where they used to be able to.  More are joining our ranks everyday, and the cries for relief are getting louder.

But I am getting ahead of myself.  Should I start from the beginning?

With the exception of some short stints of living with others (I'll get to those later), I have been living on my own since my early 20's.  I readily admit that I was ill-equipped to handle this responsibility, as the jobs I was qualified for back then never actually paid enough money to afford rent in Los Angeles, but I have also never really had a choice in the matter, as my family is not the type that lends itself to long term co-habitation.  Those situations were sticky at best, and explosive at worst.  So I did what I could to make the best possible go at living on my own, then with my son, now with my son and daughter.

Back then, I worked as a temporary employee.  Before I learned to be registered with multiple agencies, I generally only worked for one at a time, staying with one agency until they stopped calling, then moving on to another agency.  When there is rent, childcare and bills to pay, temp work doesn't always cover everything, so I was always on the lookout for that elusive permanent job. In the meantime, I learned to dread dry spells, those seasons when the temp jobs dried up for a couple of months due to the comings and goings of college students that are often used as unpaid interns for the companies that usually employed me.  It was during these dry spells that I became very familiar with evictions.

The pattern would go something like this:  While I was working, everything would be okay, but just barely.  I had no car or bank account, so I would pickup my check at the temp agency, cash it either at the bank the check was drawn on (before that option was taken away by the banks) or the check cashing place, then on Saturdays, hop on the bus with my son to go pay bills.  It was always a careful dance on the edge, quite literally living paycheck to weekly paycheck, while trying to move forward.  Whenever an assignment would end, two things would invariably happen:  There would be just enough of a wait before the next assignment to put me behind on bills and rent; and I would also have to repair or replace an (always purchased used) appliance.  It never failed.  It would be a tragic comedy if it had not gotten so predictable that I could pinpoint, almost to a day, when something would go horribly wrong.  Shortly afer putting out that fire, the 3-day notice would appear in such a way that there was no way to answer it in a timely fashion, followed by the Unlawful Detainer, followed by a tear filled court appearance (which usually cost me a day of work from the assignment that I had usually JUST STARTED, which I was not going to get paid for and usually made a poor impression which hastened the end of that assignment as well) that generally ended with me getting a crappy note in my credit record, and a extremely small amount of time for me to convince someone to rent to a single parent that worked low-paying temp jobs.

If this sounds familiar, it is because this has been the subject of quite a few recent documentaries, most notably HBO's Paycheck to Paycheck: http://www.hbo.com/documentaries/paycheck-to-paycheck-the-life-and-times-of-katrina-gilbert#/ , and more recently, Spent: Looking For Change:  http://www.spentmovie.com/.  Both films detail the lives of those who, 20 years ago, might have been squarely middle class, but due to inflation, accidents, illness and other unexpected circumstances, have found themselves in deep financial holes, struggling to meet basic daily needs for themselves and their families.  In these scenarios, even two parent families aren't spared, especially when the other parent (or partner) either can't work, or is unable to find stable employment.  Spent specifically focuses on the the financial lives of those who for various reasons are unable to participate in the mainstream financial systems in the United States.  These are people unable to have bank accounts, or get needed small business or personal loans, or have faced some crisis that started a painful downward financial spiral. Those without the ability to participate in a regular banking relationship, are all too often at the mercy of all manner of high interest, theoretically short-term loans, utilization of check cashing services, and associated bill paying services which charge additional fees of their own, which all adds up quickly, and can be devastating to low-income, and middle to low income families.



Setbacks only too easily become the last step before complete financial collapse for families already on the edge.  The car that either broke down or got repossessed that was the only link between the only employed person in the house and the well paying job that required it.  The emergency room visit that empties a checking account, or worse, has to be billed as it comes up at an extremely inopportune moment.  Having to make a heartbreaking choice when you realize that you can either eat or pay a bill, especially when there are children involved.  Wanting to be strong for everyone else, and be the stable provider that you feel like you should be, but being denied the resources needed to remain on your feet through a storm, so that you have to rely on less than palatable sources that become the anchor that finally sinks your situation.


For me, it was the discovery of payday loans.  Let me start by saying that of all of the Seven Deadly Sins, I have the largest issue with Pride.  I refused to let anyone know that I was having money issues, lest they think me incapable of "handling my business".  Being unable to handle one's business is a cardinal sin among minorities, and will get you singled out for derision and long term condescension very quickly.  Having been bullied relentlessly as a child, teen and young adult, I was willing to do just about anything to avoid being perceived as a failure for not being able to adequately care for my children and myself.  With a payday loan, I could discreetly handle any shortages that came up, and there were many since, as I stated earlier, I wasn't making enough money to cover everything, and soon between the loans to cover the bills due to the loans, and my bank's love of re-ordering the transactions to create as many overdraft fees as possible, 13 years ago, I found myself in an impossible situation.  I had been laid off from a long term assignment right in the middle of a dry season, I was having a hard time finding another assignment, so I decided to go to trade school to help me change careers, 9/11 happened, and before I could find another job, I got evicted.  My credit was destroyed, I couldn't get another bank account for a long time, and for the next five years, my son and I alternated between living with my older sister, living with my soon to be daughter's father, a brief stint in a 3rd floor walk -up apartment that ended when the above scenario repeated itself, and, when my daughter was a little over a year old, a year spent living in a residential motel.  Somewhere in the middle of all this, I finally acquired a driver's license and a car, hoping to expand my options in terms of both where I would be able to live and work.  Although I had sworn off payday lending, auto repair emergencies on an overpriced car would conspire to bring me back into the very expensive fold, especially considering that I lived somewhere not readily accessible by frequent, convenient public transit.


I've talked extensively earlier about making do as a single parent: http://www.houseofperpetualdistraction.com/thoughts-feelings-impressions-blog/song-of-the-single-mother , and trying mightily to create a life for my children where, at the very least, their needs are met, and they may even get a couple of wants, here and there.  What I didn't mention was the fact that I never wanted them to know when things got really bad, although they knew that we were barely making it, and could not afford things.  Like most of the parents you see in the documentaries, all we want is to take care of our children to the best of our ability.  We love them, we want the very best for them, and despite less than optimal circumstances, we don't want them to suffer from our mistakes and missteps.  It's crazy making that even when you work a job making a decent wage, no matter how hard you try to live within your means, even allowing for a little extra, there is always something that comes up to create a wrinkle in even the best of plans.  Since moving into this apartment seven years ago, I've endured two separate judgments, where substantial money was removed from my paychecks, two rounds of furloughs, a change in apartment ownership, bank shenanigans with transaction order and overdraft fees, several cars with huge mechanical issues, a voluntary car repossession for the aforementioned car that ALWAYS had something wrong with it, a car accident that I am still paying for as it was not covered by insurance, and due to trying to keep everything paid in the meantime, more payday loans.  Believe it or not, for a few months a couple of years ago, with the assistance of Lexington Law Firm, my credit score had actually gone from Poor to Fair.  Then I traded in a car that had a low payment, but a transmission that was on it's last legs, for a new car with a huge payment and insurance cost, but lower maintenance costs, which was crashed 9 months later.  Which killed my credit, and started the payday loan cycle all over again.  Like so many others, all over this country, I made a decision out of the desperation that arises when someone is trying to hold it all together for those they love, and is reduced to choosing between the lesser of two evils.  It wasn't really that much lesser, however.


I opened my front door this morning to find a 3-day notice taped to my screen door, ironically dated October 1st, which means I got it one day later than the time I was supposed to be given to respond to it.  


The cycle begins again...

We are almost 10 days into the Siege at Ferguson.  Not a military action, thousands of miles away, but an overzealous law enforcement response to protests waged in the wake of an unjustified police shooting in a suburb of St. Louis, Missouri. While watching the coverage, and reading many of the articles and blog posts that have been written in the wake of this latest tragedy, numerous people have mentioned the continued efforts to dehumanize the victim of the shooting, while demonizing the protesters.  The media tactic has been around as long as newspapers have been in print, if not longer, and all those who have called the news media out on this shameful habit were obviously correct in doing so.  They are missing one crucial fact, however.

In order to be dehumanized, we have to be seen as human.

Like so many things in America, the routine dehumanization of Blacks can be traced to the Trans-Atlantic slave trade. The entire southern economy was built on and depended on the free labor of those captured or sold into slavery in Africa , then transported to these shores for sale.  In order to justify the highly profitable, but morally reprehensible, practice of chattel slavery, as practiced in the U.S., the argument had to be made and emphasized that these were not people, but things.  No more than animals to be worked until they died, then you could either by more, or worse, breed them.  Even in the Census, slaves were only counted as 3/5 of a person.  That this point of view existed for at least 200 years prior to the end of slavery, is very telling about how attitudes towards all minorities, not just Blacks, developed over time as the nation grew.

After the slaves were freed, when most Blacks were just trying to live peacefully and support their families, the Ku Klux Klan formed.  Although, if you look carefully enough, their services weren't really needed.  After 200 years of being conditioned to believe that an entire race of people were all mostly lazy, ignorant, or animalistic, those in positions of power: the bankers, landowners and politicians, had no interest in creating a fair and just society were all men could propel themselves up the socioeconomic ladder by their own hard work.  There is no profit in that, for them anyway, so we have the invention of the system of sharecropping, a system meant to keep Blacks as close to a condition of slavery as possible, while also managing to sweep in the rural poor as well. It was during this era that we also saw the beginnings of the "Us vs Them" style of politics, which used the by now widely believed stereotypes of Blacks to scare poor Whites into believing that the Blacks were out to take away their livelihoods (rather than just trying to live independently), and/or commit some heinous crime against them.  American has always had a need for a "villain" (in order for someone to be declared a "hero"), and due to the fact that Blacks are highly visible, all that is needed to keep the population in fear of a certain group is to find someone who fits the definition of what they are afraid of, and parade that person out front, as often and as loudly as possible, drowning out the fact that the vast majority of the population is not only nothing like this person, but probably has more in common with the person being fed fear then they realize.  The purpose of the KKK was two-fold: to keep Blacks "in their place", which meant not doing well enough for themselves that they saw themselves as equal to the whites of the time (the phrase "Uppity Nigger" was coined during this time); and to control the remainder of the population through feeding into their fear of the "Other", thus allowing those in power to stay in power.

Just underneath the surface, although slavery ended 149 years ago, the lingering notion that Blacks (and other minorities) aren't really human, hangs heavy in the air over any media coverage of events surrounding largely minority communities.  Therein lies the rush to portray them in as negative a light as possible, especially when their death at the hands of an authority figure is in question.  Which leaves the parents, relatives and friends to tell the story of a complex life, rather than the caricature the law enforcement community needs you to believe in order to justify their actions.  They have to feed the fear.  Do not think there is not an economic component to this in these days, just as there was back then.  Now, those that benefit from media reinforced fear of the "Other", are not just the bankers, landowners and politicians (who sell fear as a means of staying in office), but the Military, Law Enforcement agencies (it is called the Prison Industrial Complex for a reason), home security companies and gun manufacturers all receive massive budgets, and huge profits, from selling seeming safety from the mysterious "Other".  The "Other" who in reality is more like them than they realize, if they would only see beyond what they are told to believe.

All races of people have people within that race that are criminals, fools and ne'er do wells.  The multi-award winning TV show Breaking Bad, and the much discussed show Sons of Anarchy, show that the drug trade and gang violence are not limited to urban minorities, concentrated in inner cities.  Rural America has it's fair share of issues, but those that live there are largely given the benefit of the doubt (or they used to be) in interaction with law enforcement and subsequent treatment by the media.  For Blacks and other minorities, the lowest common denominator is the default by which they are measured. Always. Minorities often have to go far above and beyond in order for the world to know that our loved ones and friends were not the "Thugs" (code word for all minorities) that they are being portrayed as.  The ultimate scenario of Guilty Until Proven Innocent, is what they have all come to expect.  Which, 149 years after the end of slavery, is a shame.

When William Shakespeare gave that speech to Shylock during the court trial in The Merchant of Venice, he was making a comment about the view of Jews in Elizabethan society during the late 1500's.  What does it say about us as a technologically advanced, presumably First-World country when we still have to ask those same questions in 2014 in a mid-western suburb?  If all you know about an entire group of people is what you've been fed in the media, and maybe had one or two interactions with a few representatives, how much do you really know, especially if you are going to continue spreading the lies, fear and hate?

My son is 21.  He is already a veteran of being stopped for no other reason than "because", and was taught early on to be polite and respectful to law enforcement, no matter how they may be treating him.  He is funny and charming, but he can also be temperamental and easily upset if he feels that he is being treated unfairly.  He is by no means a perfect person, but neither is he some sort of always to be feared "Other", and like most parents of imperfect Black males, this is what I worry about most.  Having to defend my son should one day, propelled by fear, paranoia, and 350 years of being repeatedly told that my son is not a real person, some law enforcement officer will misread a harmless word or gesture, then completely overreact, thereby turning my son into another heartbreaking statistic.  Which they would then try to justify by bringing up the fact that he wasn't a great student, and whatever else they can think of, dig up or make up.  Which would leave those of us that loved him in the position of trying to remind the world that this wasn't some animal; this was a son, brother, nephew and friend, that was wonderfully human, flaws and all.

We all are.  Now if we could only realize that and treat each other accordingly.

Addendum on 12/1/14: I am re-posting this today, instead of another post I was writing, because this subject seems even more important today, in the wake of the Grand Jury verdict, than it did when I first posted it 3 1/2 months ago.  I truly believe that our historical inability to be perceived as human beings is slowly beginning to tear away at something deep in the fabric of American society, and if we don't stop this dehumanizing of the minority population, we are setting ourselves for a societal failure that we will not be able to handle or contain.

I first learned to ride a bike at the ripe old age of 16.  Up to that point, I had been to afraid to try, as I didn't like the thought of falling off or getting scraped up or bruised.  But once my uncle had me try out one of the many bikes he kept in his yard for all of us kids to ride, showed me how to start, balance, and stop, I was hooked.  Biking lets you travel faster than walking, obviously, but you don't travel so fast that you don't have time to observe the world around you, like you do in a car.  It's being outdoors, in motion, and still being able to love nature.  It is almost the best of both worlds, if you ask bike enthusiasts.

I had thought about getting a bike for years when I finally purchased one a couple of years ago.   My enthusiasm for the purchase was renewed by going on a long bike ride with friends (on a borrowed bike) along the beach on a path that took us from the industrial southern end at Dockweiler Beach to the beautiful Ports at Marina Del Rey.  Riding a bike along the beach path is the ultimate California dream, and the warm spring day on which we completed the round trip inspired me to plan my purchase for sometime in the near future. I like walking (when it's not my ONLY mode of transportation), and being outside, but I also needed a form of non-weight bearing exercise since I had completely hosed my knees and lower back in separate incidents.  Even after I started doing research, asking friends for recommendations, and doing multiple internet searches looking for the perfect bicycle, it still took me a couple of years to purchase one.  Where money is concerned, I always at least TRY to be careful with large purchase, although I don't always succeed.  Money was part of it, but there are always other considerations.

First and foremost, where was I going to put it?  Although at the time I was still sharing a garage with a neighbor, the key was missing somewhere in our house, and I had yet to receive another key.  My daughter's bike was in the garage, and we could only get it when the neighbor went into the garage, which was inconvenient for my daughter because that meant she could only ride her bike when we got lucky enough to catch the neighbor.  I wanted to ride for exercise, which meant riding on a regular basis, not on whims.  If I was riding on a regular basis, when exactly was I going to do that?  There were some weeks when both my and the kids church activities ate whatever time I had after I left work, and weekends tend to live on busy.

Even with all of my concerns, I found my bike, the white beach cruiser above, within the price range I was looking for from a re-seller on Craigslist, made the purchase, found some strange way to cram the bike into my then small car, and brought it home.  I then spent a little more money with the bike shop a few blocks away making adjustments and repairs to the bike so that I could ride it without being in pain.  Then I sat there and stared at it for a few month, riding only occasionally.  Being a big woman, I was entirely intimidated by the thought of long street rides where people could actually, you know, SEE me.  That was a horror that had to be avoided at all costs.  No matter what your confidence level, having strange people yell rude things at you while you are trying to get healthy is... disconcerting at best, and completely demoralizing at worst.

That changed one Saturday morning when I decided that, rather than waste gas driving to a meeting that was only a few miles away, I would ride my bike there.  I would be riding early enough (and the route obscure enough) to not make me seriously noticeable, and the route I chose also took me around any heavy traffic (a particular talent in Los Angeles).  As I rode along side a small regional airport at the longest stretch of the ride, and I realized that it didn't matter what other people might think of what I looked like riding.  I was taking care of my health, at my own pace, and I got to look around and enjoy myself in the process.  It was a beautiful day outside, and I amazed the other ladies at the meeting by riding my bike there.  I rode home completely uplifted both by the meeting, and by accomplishing something I had wanted to do for quite sometime.  I came home planning longer rides, and thinking of purchasing a bike rack for my car so that my daughter and I could take our bikes to the beach, and she and I could ride on bike trails, completely undisturbed by cars, and with more than enough room for both us and walkers.  I had my ticket to ride, finally, and my ability to do so was only hampered by time and finances.

I put off the rack purchase for quite some time because life dictates that business be taken care of first.  Bills before extras, needs before wants, etc.  I would take longer rides when I could, and I allowed my son to use my bike, as he didn't have one, and it was quicker for him to get to school with it.  Our deal was that so long as he locked it up and took care of it, I had no issue with him using it.  And our deal held for six months, until he forgot to lock the bike to the railing outside my sitter's house one Friday evening, and the bike was stolen.

Earlier this year, I gave my son the money to purchase another bike for himself.  I have a car, and I didn't really need it to get around like he does. I walk around Downtown LA on my lunch breaks when I get the chance.  But it's not the same.  I honestly miss my bike.  I watch travel shows on tv, and see them taking lovely bike tours of other countries, and secretly long for my lost cruiser.  I drive along the beach, I see the bike trails, and I remember that warm spring day only a couple of years ago when I rode them, and I wish.  I wish to be back out there on two wheels, zipping along beach side, or planning a trip to see a City by bicycle.

One day, when I get caught up on bills (Song of the Single Parent!), there will be another bike.  Followed by the purchase of a bike rack so that my whole little family can go ride on the beach.  Then an actual vacation with a bicycle tour.  It'll happen.  Not immediately, as there are always other priorities, but I look at it this way.  Now not only do I have a specific goal to work towards, I have something to look forward to once I hit the goal.  Works for me.

I want you to know I saw the look of distress on your face as I closed the door of the daycare this morning.

I recognized it immediately, which is why the extra hugs and kisses before I left for work.

I used to look like that too. I was the rare child that started hating school in Kindergarten, and spent every school day of the next 13 years (K-12th grade) smiling on the outside (most of the time anyway), while inwardly counting the days until it was over.  The difference between your experience of school and mine is that up until this year, you absolutely LOVED school.  You liked doing your homework, and looked forward to challenges and writing reports.  I started noticing a subtle shift the closer we got to Christmas break, though.  Assignments would slip through the cracks, here and there.  You quit putting in the same effort you did before, and getting you to work through things went from the breeze it was to a trying experience of tears and half-hearted effort.

Any inquiries as to what had changed were met with shrugs, and nearly whispered "I don't know"s.  Up until last night, when comparing an F on a random assignment with a long list of A's and B's on tests given the same week, and I realized that the two pictures didn't mesh, and I called you on it.  I told you that we could work this one of two ways:  I could go the punitive route, and just punish you for the bad grade, or we could talk about what led up to that, and see if we could find a way to stop this from happening again.  Much as I said yesterday, I can't help you fix it if you are not honest about what's going on.  Even though, after it all came out in a low defeated voice while staring at the accumulated dust at the bottom on my dresser, I don't know if this is something that can be fixed.

At the ripe old age of ten, you have begun that trip into the realm of the girls that don't want to seem too smart, lest they not have any friends.  I had so hoped you wouldn't have to go through this.  But as I watched you develop anxiety about school (the likely source of the bathroom issues and the resulting taunting which only made everything worse), I knew at some point I would hear this one admission that I wanted you to avoid.  That I thought women and girls had left behind in the 20+ years since I left school.

I purposely chose this semi-suburban environment because I wanted you to have a different academic experience than the one I had.  Inner city schools were okay for smart girls, but a great deal of support was needed to keep girls from becoming socially isolated because the other kids weren't sure what to make of them.  I aimed to not move while you went through elementary school so that you could make, and keep, the same friends, building up a set of social skills that I never really developed while we moved from place to place.  I didn't expect that to develop into kids that knew your weaknesses, and took obscene delight in pointing them out to you at every opportunity.  I figured because you were conventionally attractive, you wouldn't catch even 1/10th the hell I caught going through school for not being attractive enough.  I didn't realize until other people started pointing it out that you have a lighter version of almost my exact same face, along with the same big, coarse just barely manageable hair that does exactly as it pleases, which is usually the one thing that you DON'T want it to do.  How well I know that story.

You are a girl that loves math and science, who currently wants to be a teacher when you grow up.  I smile and tell you that this is wonderful, and you can do anything you want to do.  Internally I fight a war between encouraging you, and fiercely wanting to protect you from the rough waters that await a girl interested in STEM fields, especially as you prepare for your final year of elementary school next year, and from there prepare to navigate the far more treacherous territory of middle school.  I worry about you losing the sweet, funny, quirky nerd that you are to the jaded, outwardly tough, bravado spouting street kid that the surrounding neighborhood seems determined to turn you into.  I am divided between being awed by, and afraid of, the fact that as small and thin as you are, you really don't take any crap from any of the kids that pick on you because they are bigger than you, mostly because I told you not to.  My own experiences with being routinely bullied left me determined that my own children would never have to put up with the cruel jokes, snide remarks, and occasional physical confrontations that I was told to "ignore, and they will leave you alone"  (the biggest lie kids are told), however, in this age of strictly enforced Zero Tolerance policies, I fear your efforts to stand up for yourself will end in a flurry of suspensions that, rather than keep you from being a victim, might get you labeled as a troublemaker.  Which, by the way, is what started happening to your brother in middle school, which was so frequent by high school, that it was one of the many contributing factors to him dropping out.  Which is what I DON'T want to happen with you.

You have many more days of school to go, my darling daughter, and I will do the best I can to teach you, guide you, and help you learn how to get through them.  I can't guarantee you I will know all the right things to say and do to encourage you, and I know that as much as I would like to, I can never shield you from  all of the negativity that will come your way.  Nor should I attempt to keep you too sheltered, as you will need to learn how to deal with less than ideal people and situations.  But know that I do love you, and I am always willing to try to do whatever I can to make your journey a bit smoother (short of doing everything FOR you, but you knew that already), or at the very least, help you make sense of whatever is going on around you.  I think I can do that much.

I hope this helps.

On October 8, 1992, at 8:04am, I gave birth to an 8lb., 4oz. baby boy.  Other than immediately wondering if 8 was going to be your lucky number, I had no thought other than "How on Earth am I supposed to raise this tiny little person into an adult?"  Twenty-one years, and many bumps, bruises and odd side trips later, I think I have finally come up with a hard list of things that I think are important as you move forward into the next part of your life.

1. Keep some form of spiritual grounding in your life.  I started this process by bringing you to church, and whether or not you continue, I hope you remain spiritually centered.  A foundation of faith, not religion, can bring a type of inner peace and strength that nothing can replace. Cultivate this.

2. Education is the gift that keeps on giving, and the one thing, once earned, that no one can ever take away.  Complete the concrete steps you need to move on with your goals, and never stop learning.  There is always something new to learn.

3. Ask for help when you need it.  The only people that will think less of you for asking are the people that already thought less of you to begin with.  Those are people you need to avoid if at all possible.  Conversely...

4.   If you can do it yourself, do it!  Self-reliance is not a dirty word.  The trick is in knowing when to do it yourself, and when to ask for help.

5. Surround yourself with people who love you and value you for who you are, not what you are, or what you can do for them.  As you work towards personal and professional successes, many more people will enter your life.    It is my hope that you will develop Discernment to know which relationships to nurture, and which people to allow to walk away.

6. Change is inevitable.  Never fear change.  Stay flexible, especially on the job.  This will come in handy more often than you realize.

7.  Feeling fear is normal.  Wallowing in it, or allowing it to dictate your choices in life is limiting.  Tempting as it is to not do things based on fear of the unknown, taking calculated risks (where you measure the possible outcomes against the size of the risk you are taking), might actually be some of the best decisions you ever make.

8. Knowledge is easy to obtain; Wisdom is not.  You will gain both as you get older: Knowledge through study, application and practice; Wisdom through a painful teacher called Experience.  The only people that don't gain Wisdom are people that don't want to.  On that same note...

9.  Proper money management is critical.  I didn't learn about what credit really meant until after I turned 30, and I have paid dearly for that lack of knowledge.  It is crucial that you realize there are a lot of little ways to stumble, and seriously damage your financial future. Nothing to fear, but a few things to know in order to have secure finances.

10. Failure is not the end.  Look at setbacks as the opportunity to reassess your goals and methods.  Then you can either try again from another angle, or go on to your next goal.  The point is always to keep moving forward, even if only an inch at a time.

11. Working hard and working smart are two different things.  Both are required to have a happy and successful life, and you will learn when to do each.

12. There are worse things than being alone.  This goes for friendships and relationships.  This also goes along with #5 above.  Red flags are exactly that:  an internal warning that something is not right, and from there you can make the choice to either explore it further, or leave it be.  But to be in negative relationship with people that either don't really like you, or are envious of you, or are unnecessarily and overtly competitive with you is emotionally draining.  In these cases, it is better to be alone than to wish you were.

13.  Kindness and decency are the meat and potatoes.  Intelligence is gravy.  Pretty is the dessert.  If she respects herself, and treats you and everyone else around her with respect, courtesy and kindness, she's a keeper.  If she is smart about the things that count (her strengths hopefully complement your weaknesses, and vice versa), that is an incredible bonus.  If she's also pretty, you hit the jackpot!

14.  Do pay attention to the world around you.  There is always a lot going on in the world.  Know enough about the world outside of your bubble of friends and interests to be able to speak intelligently about at least a few other subjects.  Notice when people are hurting or in need, and learn to be there for them.  Also notice when people want to be left alone, and respect their wishes.  The practice of empathy with the condition and circumstances of others will lead you to a better understanding of the world you live in.

15. Take care of yourself, too.  You already know that eating right (all things in moderation) and exercise are important for physical and mental health.  Take little time outs for your emotional health as well.  Spend a little time alone.  Unplug.  Listen to soothing music.  Read a good book.  I guarantee you will find yourself refreshed by the downtime.

Above all, know that I love you, and am truly looking forward to seeing the man you are becoming.