A gift of chai-life

Note: This was done with a voice -to-text program so anything I said came out. I think I fixed most of the typos.

How many times can I cry at my synagogue? It seems that I am up to at least a dozen times now. This last Saturday was my most recent episode of crying. We were reading a portion in Deuteronomy about helping the poor. How there will always be poor people and how if you are able to, you should help the poor even if you don’t know what they will spend the money on whether it will be food, housing or drugs.  I’m not sure how it came up but I asked if our synagogue had a tzedakah (charity) fund. A long time and frequent member of our study group confirmed that we do. I asked with tears in my eyes that if people can go to someone in the synagogue to ask for the funds to god damn I was wrong my f****** brain f****** blood do I think you get the point.  About 2 weeks ago my water got turned off. The automatic payment from my bank didn’t go through and I didn’t know it. So the city turned off my water. It would cost $250 to turn it back on. That’s money I did not have. Electricity I could live without for a few days but not water especially when I’m prone to have volcano ass. And I certainly didn’t want to go to my parents and tell them that I f***** up bad adulting and I needed help I was not going to go grovel at them. I felt like s*** about it but I went to my ex. He lent me the money so I could get my water turned back on and it was turned back on.

Last week I was outside of my building picking up trash with Max, well Max was picking up the trash and I was taking it from him and putting it into the garbage can. My cane with leaning against the side of the building I was recording him picking up the trash to have (come on brain work) a record of his training it’s always good to do that and because it was super cute to have a video of my dog picking up the trash. But after he picked up the trash I walked away. And sure enough, I’d left my cane against the building and it was stolen. And on my cane was a pouch with some of Max’s stuff in, gone. I filed a police report but I’m never going to see it again. Today is Tuesday. On Sunday night I sent an email to the synagogue asking if I could get help from the Tzedakah fund. I explained what happened. I sent them a picture of the receipt from the water bill and of the cost of the cane, the pouch, and the things that were inside it and to show them what would cost to replace the items. I wasn’t sure what they would say or do if anything at all. Would they tell me that I just needed to find another way, this money was for real emergencies, that they weren’t going to help me, I really didn’t know. But Monday night I got an email from someone at the synagogue loving kindness committee. She explained  what they do and how much they give to help people she asked me if I needed that full amount and exactly what happened I explained again and told her yes I do need that full amount. I actually mean more to repay my ex husband but he does not mind if I take some extra time to repay him and right about now, I’ll take any help that I can get. I got an email back from her today saying that they are going to give me that amount I can get it from them on Saturday. Tears rolled down my face, I was so relieved. I had no idea that I can get help from them in this manner. I really hate asking for help but I’ve come to a point in my life where I really have to, there’s no choice. I need help even though I don’t realize it at times. It’s very humbling for me and I hate it. But as much as I hate it I have to do it. There’s no way around it.

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Musings While Medicated: Lessons From Harry Potter

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This screenshot from Tumblr was posted on a FB fanpage. Whether it’s canon or fanfic I don’t know. There are many Dramione fanfics. But from it is the crux of this post.

You could use many words to describe me.
3 of them are Hufflepuff, Jew, and stoner. I have no problem with any of these descriptors. I’m a proud badger, I’m proud of my heritage, and MMJ ended my benzo addiction.

One of the comments on this screenshot caught my interest, I think it may have been someone claiming this was their OTP (don’t quite remember, it’s been a shitty day and I’m baked). But a comment on that comment was “No way! Hashtag Pureblood Hashtag HeilHitler” Someone actually liked it!

Mortified, I asked that person not to go there. Did he learn nothing from HP? The whole rise of Voldemort was compared to Hitler. Grindelwald was compared to WWI. Pureblood wizards…pure Aryan blood…hello? No more Hitler, no more Voldy, accepting everyone. No Hogsmeade Wall, accepting people for what they believe, where they come from, who they love, the type of magic they do, or if they do magic at all. He responded in a total douchebag manner. I decided to block him and report the post. In the process of clicking on the offensive comment, I clicked on the HH hashtag. Facebook loaded tons of public posts using that horrible hashtag. A few referenced Trump followers so I ignored them.

For those who aren’t aware 4/20 (stoner Christmas) was also Hitler’s birthday. Plus the birthday of my abusive grandfather but that’s another story. There were so many horribly offensive posts about killing minorities, glorifying Hitler, and smoking a doobie in his name.  I reported about a dozen posts before I couldn’t take it any more and broke down in tears. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?!

Believe in Yourself

This afternoon I took my service dog on a training walk and filmed it. I planned on putting the pieces together and posting it on his Facebook page but a new app and many spoons later, it’s still not done. I also started 6 hours ago and I’m eating dinner at 1am. I’ll post here in the morning, I promise!

Max and I were done with the training part and just enjoying our walk towards home. I was wearing this hoodie. I have a few items with this symbol on it. They are from this company.


3ELove

3Elove-Embrace your disabilities, Empower yourself, Educate people about your disabilities, love yourself, and love those who are disabled. It’s a great message. I also have a sweatshirt that says HOPE and one that says I ❤  Service Dogs.

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As I passed the library, two men in desperate need of a shower were sharing a joint. As we approached, they hid the joint. I laughed as they don’t need to hide pot from me. One of them asked me if my hoodie said Believe or Belize. I told him. He said to me,”You’re nothing in front of God but Jesus loves you.” I turned to him and said,”I am something and God believes in me and I believe in Her.” The man opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out.

Those who know me, know I do believe in a Higher Power. Whether you call It God, Allah, Buddha, He Who Must Not Be Named, Mother Goddess, Brahman, Gaia, YHVH, Father Sky, Coyote, Dagda, Amun-ra or Quetzalcoatl, I do believe. But although it’s it’s in the minutiae quite often, I also believe in myself.

I think it’s very harmful to tell strangers “the end is near” “you’re all sinners” “there’s no god” “you’re nothing in front of God”. What if that person was severely depressed and your words were the last straw? Sure, you can’t control the actions of others. You can only control what you do and say. Or at least try. You just never know.

Selah