Contentness

Just so you know, I should be doing homework right now. But I'm writing to you, my much neglected blogger friends. I may be paying for this later but I really want to share my thoughts before they change!

This is the time of year that my PTSD fucks shit up. Very hard. Usually. This year not so much.

Normally, by this time I'm in full relapse mode. This year, not even a little bit. Of course, there's still plenty of time for my world to collapse but for now I'm incredibly content. Even without it being the holidays I should be freaking out right now. I had some serious work troubles. I went from a job that scammed me to a job where the owner of the company was trying to fuck me. I've struggled to pay my rent. And I'm failing my classes. (Though, in all truth, the grades are my fault. I've been horrible this term and done some things I'm really not proud of academically.) I have bills I can't pay. I have a shut off notice for my power. I don't have clothes that fit the new job's dress code. (Job that does not involve getting hit on or scammed). KL is still non communicative. Houdini is strung out. My cats (I have three now btw) are expensive little buggers. My pain levels with my fibromyalgia are beyond comprehension right now.

Yet, I'm really fucking happy. I've been wondering where this joy has been coming from so I did some soul searching about it the past few days. And I came to a conclusion after some thought.

You see, I had some brief contact with my mother a few weeks ago. When I first quit my job I called my uncle (her brother) to ask for help. He told me that he was also about to lose his job but my mother was doing well and to call her. So against my better judgment I did. Any guesses how that went?

“Yeah, I can't send you $10 to do laundry I'm buying a car.”

She didn't even realize how ridiculous she sounded. And it stung. For a few days I was in a slump. I thought, “If my own mother won't help me, who will? How could anyone want me when my parents don't want me? What does this say about me as a person? Am I really that bad?” Even though I cognitively understand my parents are narcissists, it's really easy to fall into this trap of thinking after growing up in an environment of constant verbal abuse.

But that Sunday night was drinking night. Every other Sunday I go out with my friends and drink at our bar. I went feeling rather worthless and crappy and left feeling warm and loved. And it wasn't alcohol talking! I didn't have any money so I didn't drink except stealing drinks from them. It was the companionship and how they surrounded me with support in my hardship.

Usually, when I get home after a Sunday night I text one of my friends to let him know I made it home safely. Well, this Sunday night I decided since I wasn't drinking I didn't need to send that text. Surely, I made it home safely sober, if I do it twice a month tipsy. Also, I don't pay any attention to my phone so I didn't notice when he blew it up asking if I made it home okay. He finally found me on Facebook, rather upset and concerned.

I felt bad for causing him to nearly have a panic attack but I felt so loved then. I realized I matter to people. If I don't make it home safely someone will worry and look for me. Then, I have at least three people who randomly show up on my door whenever they damn well please. Or in one friend's case, whenever he gets kicked out of the strip club by my house. It only recently dawned on me that it's probably not normal that at least twice a week someone just shows up at my door unannounced for no other reason than to see how I'm doing. (They probably do this because I don't check my phone and I'm not friends with them on Facebook but still!)

I'm rebuilding the friendships I lost while I was homeless too. Part of this is from me going to school so I see some of them there. I've started reaching out to a lot of them but a lot of them are also reaching out to me and letting me know I am missed.

Oh, and remember my friend who was having a baby in shelter? Well, her baby is walking now and when I come over he walks to me with a giant smile on his face. There is NOTHING in the world that could warm my heart more than that.

In the end, I'm realizing I matter to people. Not just one or two people but LOTS of people. Lots of people from lots of different groups. And I think it's helping me understand what I've always cognitively known. There are BILLIONS of people on this planet. My parents represent 2 of those people. 2 very broken people. Yes, parents are supposed to cherish their children. And it would be nice if all did but my parents cannot see beyond their own needs, wants, and desires. There is nothing I could do to please them. Therefore, I shouldn't care about their opinions.

As long as there are people in the world who care about me I'm not worthless. And I think I matter to a lot of people. My disappearance would be noticed. I may not know what my friends see in me. I may not always understand their warmth and kindness but they really have been there for me while I've been struggling these last few months and that has filled me with so much warmth. For some reason I am important to them. For this reason I am not worthless; I am valuable.

You'd think I would have realized all of this when I was the only street kid who received care packages and had people to hang out with besides other street kids! But, I think I needed some time to get all of the verbal abuse I suffered the last two years out of my system. Being with people who build me up is what purged all of that out of my system.

And even though my grades are suffering for my social life, I am so happy I've found so many wonderful people in my life. A few of them are so wonderful they are even getting on me for my grades! I now get messages telling me to get off the internet and study! (oops!) But it's nice that they care about me beyond my company too.

To my parents all I have to say is I don't need you. I have found other people to be my family. I will take my chosen family over you two any day. I am not the things you did to me or the things you said to me. I am stronger than any one from our family could have ever imagined. And I don't need any of you in my life. I have everyone I need.

Goodnight Blogger Family. <3

What To Give, How To Volunteer, How To Help

So I've had people ask me lately what to give/where to donate/etc when looking to help the homeless youth population. Thanks to reddit my post about this has skyrocketed with page views in the last hour. However, it was pretty early in the game to make that post so I thought it would be helpful to make new post on this subject.

Things to Give:
[Most people want to give food but most homeless youth (in Portland at least) don't need food. So I'm posting to offer some alternatives.]
*Money if you're comfortable with it
*Cigarettes
*Jackets
*Warm Clothing
*Blankets
*Tarps (to cover themselves at night when it's raining)
*Sleeping mats
*Crochet your own sleeping mat
*A night in a hotel room or hostel
*Toiletries
*Contact Solution (this was a huge need for me when I was homeless)
*Pet food
*First Aid supplies (another really big need for me)
*Over the counter medications (advil, allergy medicine, etc.)
*Hand Warmers (little packets you shake and they heat up to keep you warm for six hours or so)
*Bikes
*Mini Hair Straighteners and Curling Irons
*Make Up
*Shaving razors
*Puzzles
*Mini Board Games
*Gift Cards
*Shoes
*Books


Places to Donate/Volunteer:
*Big Brothers/Big Sisters
*New Avenues for Youth
*Project Metamorphosis
*Pear
*Food Banks
*Shelters



If I think of any more I will edit and add them later. Have laundry calling my name. :/

Puzzle Pieces

Lately, I've been feeling like my life is a huge clusterfuck of puzzle pieces that just don't fit together. You know how when you're doing a puzzle and you have those two pieces that look like they should fit but they just don't even though there's no other logical place for them?

That's my life these days.

I want Gru out of my life. It's his birthday today, well yesterday now. I refused to even acknowledge it. I've spent $600 on "his" cat in vet bills. And these vet bills aren't going to end either. Linus has been ripping his hair out to the point where his skin is scabbing. Gru didn't even think this was a problem. So I hauled Linus to the vet again today. The vet said we've gotten some undetected fleas and Linus is allergic to flea bites. So I had to flea treat the cats, give Linus antibiotics and antihistamines, and flea bomb the house. Gru has no intention of helping with this naturally.

Now, everyone knows my cat Spencer is my baby. I noticed some changes in his behavior. Namely, he is very skittish and won't come downstairs unless I'm home. The vet and I agreed it was due to me adding a snake (Fluffy) into the family. Yet, as I paid more attention I noticed if Gru wasn't home Spencer would be downstairs. If Gru was home he'd be upstairs waiting for me.

So I watched Gru interact with Spencer. I was not pleased. Not even a little bit. So now, I'm freaking out about my cat possibly being abused by this piece of shit roommate I can't get rid of at the moment. There's other issues involved in the demise of my relationship with Gru but you mess with my kitten you're in for a world of hurt.

This is made even more difficult because I'm having issues in the work department. I'm not going to get into it because really, I've been silent in this department to everyone in my life for a number of reasons. I've already found a new job (was offered a new job the next day) but I'm not sure how people would feel about it (no, I'm not stripping, prostituting, or selling drugs). And I want to wait until I have some pay checks under my belt there before I let anyone know what's going on.

This new job wants me to travel. Like, I might be going to my hometown next month. Which is part of the reason I took the job. I want to travel. The issue is, what am I going to do with the cats? I will not leave them with Gru. Not a chance. So now I have to find someone to take both of the cats for a few weeks every couple of months to make sure they aren't being hurt. Finding someone to take Spencer is not a problem. I have lists of people ready to take Spencer. Linus on the other hand, has to get medicine twice a day. He's less social. He's not everyone's buddy.

And to find someone to take both like the vet recommends? I have my work cut out for me. Then there's Fluffy. Even though she only needs to be fed/watered once a week people are a lot more squeamish about snakes than they are about cats.

So now I have a new job, which I am nervous about, pets I need help taking care of, and a roommate I really want to fall into a lake of fire.

My neighbors are loud assholes who play some shooting game at full volume at 1am. It infuriates me. The walls here are thin so I try to be considerate. I play my movies at night at a lower volume than I would like. And I end up listening to BOOM BOOM BOOM all night. I really dislike obnoxious people.

The situation with KL is still terrible. She will appear and disappear for weeks at a time. She refuses to speak to me. I try to say it doesn't bother me but  it bothers me a lot. Never knowing if today she will turn up dead; it's a feeling I will never learn how to describe. It's terrifying. I miss her so much. I feel so helpless.

I think about how I lost Megan without doing everything I could to see her. It torments me. If KL dies alone in St Louis will I be able to handle that guilt? Just the thought is paralyzing.

I am having trouble with my fibro but I need to find a new doctor. Apparently my doctor was still sharing my information with the housing program upstairs. Finding a new doctor is very stressful when it comes to fibro because many doctors think you are just drug seeking. I'm very concerned about this.

I'm homesick. This is the longest I've ever been without a trip to the Jelly Belly Factory. I know it's a small thing but I miss home so much. I miss my friends. I miss the jelly bellies. I miss the places. I miss that feeling I get when I'm home, like I can breathe easier. My hometown is a hell hole but it's my hell hole and it grounds me to go back. I miss it. I miss my mom, even though I know I don't want to fall into the poison trap again so I don't call. I don't even call the rest of my family because I don't want to fall into the slippery slope. I miss all of them. I miss my brothers that won't/don't talk to me. I shouldn't miss these things but I do.

I wish I could be one of those people who could afford to have a mental break down. I wish I could sit down and mourn the loss of Megan Penny but I still have not been able to cry a single tear for her or the two year old she left behind. I wish I could be angry at KL for running around St Louis and refusing to talk to me. I wish I could have a flipping panic attack about work. I wish Gru would try and hit me one of these days so I could beat the ever living shit out of him for the awful things he has done to my animals.

I really just want to run away and be someone else for awhile. Sometimes I miss the simplicity of the streets. I know I shouldn't complain. When it was hot I thought about how I shouldn't complain because I remember how impossible it was to be in the shelter when it was so sweltering up there. How it was preferable to sleep outside. It made me feel guilty for complaining about the heat.

I have a kitchen and lots of wonderful food that's not pasta though lately I've been eating out. And even eating out, I couldn't do that before.

So a mental break down is neither feasible or justified. Instead, I come online and complain to complete strangers. There are so many more productive things I could be doing but here I am whining at 12:30am.

Pull myself off the streets only to complain about life being housed? What kind of selfish fuck am I?

--MM

What The World Actually Needs

DISCLAIMER: After a year on this damn blog you'd think I'd be able to learn how to format the damn thing? Yeah, I apologize this entry is fucked in format too. Sorry. Any computer geeks want to go through and fix my formatting through the blog I'll bake you cookies. =/

I'm sitting on my comfy, plushy bed in nothing but my bathrobe, which isn't even tied. (Hi NSA!) There is a mountain of clothes on the end of my bed, serving as a foot rest. The mountain topples onto my floor. Laundry I was going to hang up...a week ago that's now a jumbled mess of both dirty and clean clothes. I have my entire wardrobe back and it overflows out of my over sized closet. I just got out of a warm bubble bath. After I write this I will be going to bed as I work at 6am tomorrow. College student abuse.

It's a different picture than what I was living six months ago yes? Hard to believe that this life and that life are both parts of my life.

I ran into Beard Man at Walmart the other day. I don't know if I ever explained this on the blog before, but when a staff runs into us in "real life" they can't acknowledge us until we acknowledge them. Confidentiality. His eyes lit up and he opened his mouth to say hi then promptly shut it, hung his head, and continued walking. I started laughing and said hi.

I will say, every time I run into staff in real life they really have never been able to be coy. I think it's funny.

Anywho, Beard Man has left the organization. "Too much bullshit?" I asked. He sort of shrugged and said, "After four years it was time to go". I was sad to hear he was leaving. I can't even possibly imagine that place without Beard Man. Who would I write grievance forms about? I will miss him though. It's a sad day for homeless youth.

Director Lady left shelter. She now works at the housing program geared to younger youth (not the one I was in). Houdini said shelter has gotten worse since she left. It's hard to imagine shelter without her.

Seems everybody is moving on and the faces for homeless youth are changing. It's summer now, not that Mother Nature agrees. And with summer comes a new rush of homeless youth and tourists. The clash between the two groups is already playing out in downtown. I was there the other day to sell my books at Powell's and I saw tourists harassing street kids I didn't know. I always just keep walking even though I remember how awful it was when I was that street kid.

I remember when I was in McDonald's and a fat lady started talking about snatching the kitten right out of KL's hand. "She doesn't deserve an animal." There was one time KL asked a man outside of a bar for a cigarette. "I support my habit. You support yours." He told her. She was stung. And both those times I was too. We weren't humans. We were street kids.

But, when I see street kids I don't know in downtown I just keep walking. I don't bat an eye when they are hassled. The other day I met up with a friend who insisted on feeding me Jack in the Box. He insisted on buying a medium fry when I only wanted a small. I ended up giving most of it away to a street kid sitting in front of my bus stop. I know that's not what she really wanted. She could have all the food she wanted by just walking ten blocks. I knew that. She knew that. But she took them and thanked me and ate them before I got on the bus.

Sometimes, when I see these kids I don't know, I want to tell them I've been there. I can never bring myself to do it. It's not like I'm that much better than them anyways. I'm probably losing one of my jobs. I'm not any closer to a career. My best friend and street sister is missing in St. Louis. My street brother is selling drugs. My relationships are in shambles. What the hell do I know? I'm no better. Tomorrow, my world could fall apart and I could be homeless again.

Today, right as I was clocking into work my friend Sleepy sent me this message:

so I've been thinking about what to type. I apologize if it's kind of weird that I insert myself into your life in a random way intermittently. The "dc4" is celeste [his cat] typing on my keyboard (no joke) as I was thinking of what to type, you know, the cat that reminds me of you and kath.
Anyways, I certainly thought about you and your predicament from time to time. I mean, I've read how you've pretty much bootstrapped your way from a homeless shelter > halfway homeish > jobs and now finishing up your degree. That is really admirable. I wonder if I could do something like that and I also envy that. Everything seems so superficial from my world, though that may just be my depression talking; it has put a damper in my attempts to communicate with you and pretty much everyone else. It says "Why bother?"

But I still want to catch up, I read your blog recently. I hope things continue to go well. You certainly work really hard and are very kind. We need more people like you in this world. I need to do the same.

I've had a lot of friends say similar things. I never really know what to say to it. I don't think what I did was all that remarkable. What would have been remarkable would have been never ending up there in the first place! I don't think of being homeless as a success or something to be proud about. You should all be proud you've worked hard enough to never end up in a shelter!
I think all of you would be capable of surviving if put in that situation. Thousands of people do it. I'm not the only one who has worked her way off of the streets. I think each and every one of you would be amazed at what you are capable of when put in that situation. We all rise to the challenge when put in those situations, because you don't have any choice but to rise to that occasion.
Most importantly, people need to realize I did not do this on my own. I never would have survived without this blog. There is no way I would have made it even a week without knowing that people were coming online, reading my adventures, and cheering me on. I never expected this blog to become anything other than my therapy to get me through it. I was AMAZED it became a "thing" and the views from all over the world increased every day.
I quickly learned who my real friends were. I was shocked by who rushed to help me. It wasn't my "besties". In fact, a huge group of friends abandoned me at the beginning in the most self righteous way. Honest to God, it was a team effort. I haven't missed them one bit though. Being liberal doesn't automatically make you a good person. Especially when you act hatefully.
Most of my support came from online friends like Sleepy. What was all the more incredible about it was the fact that I don't think I ever out right asked for help once. I received more care packages, letters, and money than any street kid I know and I never once asked.
I actually felt uncomfortable about it at first. Eventually, I learned that the help wasn't just for me. I think it made people feel better knowing that they helped. No one was able to just pluck me off of the streets and make my life stable and happy. But they could send contact solution and slip me money here and there or send me letters and candies.
And these things mattered so much. It wasn't about the items or the cash or the candy. It was looking at those packages and saying, "To this person, I am a human being. To this person I matter."
From people that were little more than strangers. That's real kindness.
This is not to say that my friends in real life didn't help. They did. Savior Man moved mountains for me by keeping Spencer, letting me cook, shower, and rest at his place. My friends stood by me and helped where they could when they knew. Most of them just plain didn't know and definitely didn't know the dirty details. It was just easier to share my struggles through the anonymity of the internet than looking my friends in the eye and saying, "This is my life now. It's nothing like how you know me."
The world doesn't need more people like me. The world needs more people like Sleepy and Bunny. It needs more people like you, who stopped what you were doing today to read this blog. It needs people courageous enough to stop and acknowledge the street people they don't know. It has enough me's. It needs more yous.

--MM

Day Three Hundred and Sixty Five

I was talking with a friend a few weeks when he said, "In the past year you've been through Hell and back". The statement caused me to pause. Up until then it hadn't dawned on me that it has been a year since this all started. But today is the exact one year mark since this all started.

I personally don't consider this year to have been Hell. I've seen real Hell and this year wasn't it. There are things in my life I'd change in a heart beat but I wouldn't trade being a street kid for all the money in the world.

I have never felt more alive than I did as a street kid, more than that I have never felt so connected to the people around me or more like part of a family.

I never really believe in love before this past year. I always thought it was just a four letter word people use to manipulate others. I don't even like using the word love. It's completely awkward out of my mouth. The only thing in the world I say "I love you" to is my cat. So, it's not something I casually throw around.

However, I think this year has taught me that love is a thing, depending on how you define it. Dictionary.com defines love as a "profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person or a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection". I remember in high school a friend told me, "Love is a choice, not an emotion".

I think both definitions are right.

I have a deep attachment to the kids that I survived the streets with. There's a connection between street kids that even after a year I cannot find words to explain. Even if the Ginger Clan came to me and asked for help I probably wouldn't be able to just walk away.

Love is not all roses and daisies and fairy tales. It's painful.

Street kids form their own families. Kitten Lady and Houdini were mine. Jesus too in some ways. I'd do anything for them. All three are still on the streets. I can't describe what it feels like to not know where your kin is sleeping at night.

Once again Kitten Lady has disappeared. It has been a month since anyone has heard from her. The last person who has heard from her said that she told him she helped a lady hit and the lady over dosed. KL tried to perform CPR but the woman died anyways.

At this point I am seriously considering flying to St Louis as soon as finals are over so I can find her and bring her home. Everyone tells me she is a lost cause and to put it bluntly, I should just let her die. I can't do that. People say the same thing about me, that I'm not worth the trouble. I know what it feels like when everyone has given up on you. I don't want to do that to her. If I would have stuck to her the way I should have she would have never gone to St Louis or been in this position in the first place.

Furthermore, I have never forgotten the day when we thought we heard gun shots and she covered me to shield me from the motorcycle we had mistaken for bullets. I know if roles were reversed she would go through whatever it took to bring me home.

I had her sing me a song on my voice mail. She sang "Lucky" by Jason Mraz.

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend. Lucky to have been where I have been. Lucky to be coming home someday. 

I cling to my blind hope that her singing that verse to me was her way of promising she will come home as I have been begging her to do. At the same time the song reflects my own feelings. I'm lucky to have had the experiences that I have had and met the people I have met through my experiences on the streets. I learned so much in the last year. It changed me.

One of the last times I heard from KL she said, "We were the happiest damn homeless kids. You've never seen a homeless person so happy." It's true. We really were happy. We had fun. It wasn't easy but we made the best of it. Our friendship is what got me through it. We laughed so much. Even our most awful experiences were the cause of laughter.

Like the day we were almost arrested for sleeping on the church wall but the cops were never able to get over the fence. I thought we were going to die. In the end it just proved Portland cops are too fat to hop a fence little homeless kids can climb.

Or when we got caught stealing food at Fred Meyers and had to run from the police with KL in a wheel chair, holding a kitten, with a face mask on. She lost her shoe and fell off the curb, sending the kitten running. I still wish we could have seen what we looked like.

We had a lot of hardships like KL's kitten being attacked by a pitbull or KL breaking her foot in Hell and having to carry her up while she was in agonizing pain. Then we had to use someone else's identity to get her into the hospital.

The girl who let us use her identity, we presume is dead. The last we saw her she was saying someone was after her. No one has seen or heard from her since. KL, Houdini and I all thought she was just being melodramatic.

There are some things I miss. I miss the freedom, the absence of any responsibilities outside of survival. I miss the connection to people, feeling like I was part of something bigger. Sometimes I feel lonely not being surrounded by people the way I was. Which is odd. I was always more isolated before being a street kid. Being alone was comfortable. Now, it's not.

I think overall I'm doing pretty well for myself though. This term I will finish my associate's degree. I'm working two jobs, both over minimum wage and I'm making good money. Not only that, I'm working two jobs I like. I have a nice townhouse and my cats are happy. In one year I pulled myself out of the streets. These are all good things. For the most part I am happy with where things are.

For awhile I was trying to get my old life back. I was trying to go back to the old lifestyle of dating, going out dancing, and being a social butterfly with my old friends. I still do these things but I've realized it will never be the same as it was before. I feel differently about things.

There is survival guilt. It's not really fair I get to sleep inside when I know my friends are sleeping out in the cold and rain. When it's nice out I worry less but when it rains I worry constantly about the people I know are sleeping out in the elements. I let people stay over when I can but with work and school I'm not always available.

Where has everyone else landed in the last year?

Houdini: is selling drugs to support himself but staying clean. He is saving up for a car and an apartment.
Jesus: is back in downtown Portland. He went home to his family but after various events ended up sleeping in a tent. He was working but eventually came back in hopes of getting services. He was denied services at OI because he left his job and is now sleeping outside.
Drama Girl hasn't left the streets or gotten her baby back but she is no longer dating Dreadlocks.
Dreadlocks I have no update for.
Baby Mama is doing well. She has her own place and little man is now six months old. He has a mess of curly hair, and just like in his ultra sound he always has his hand in his face.
Ginger Clan had a baby eleven months after they first claimed they were pregnant.
The majority of the kids I was in housing with were kicked out.

That's what I know.

It feels like it has been both longer and shorter than a year. I saw a lot of things that most people can't comprehend and I've faced a lot  of challenges but regardless, this last year is one I wouldn't change for anything.

--mm

Cliche Mother's Day Post

Things like Mother's Day makes me go back to my old school angry white rap music days. I was waiting at the bus stop today when an older gentleman wished me a happy mother's day. I replied, "I'm not a mother thank God." I found it hard to hide my snarl when he said, "Well, you still have a mother."

 My older brother was an Eminem fanatic when I was growing up and I remember listening to the following song and dreaming of the day I could settle the score with my own mother the way Eminem did, just probably through a different medium. ;)

I didn't come on here today to fight with my childhood though. I want to honor a mom that probably won't get the recognition she deserves; not because she is undervalued but because she is prized by people who have a hard time being vulnerable enough to express genuine gratitude.

Maybe my biological mother was a failure but there have been other "mom"s who have come through for me. One of which has been a mom to me for the past year.

There's a staff at #1, whom I don't even know what her job is exactly. I don't know if anyone does actually. My guess is that she's part of the drug program but it doesn't really matter. We all just call her "Mom". Regardless of what the job description on her paycheck is; that is the job she does for us. She's probably the only day program staff I genuinely miss on a regular basis.

I remember last summer she talked about her daughter getting married. I interrupted her almost immediately and said, "You have kids? Outside of us?"

I felt like she was cheating on us but I guess all that mothering had to come from somewhere.

She's about my size, so pretty stinking tiny, but she breaks up fights on a regular basis. She does this by asking the youth if they want to go smoke a cigarette with her. It's explicitly forbidden for staff to offer cigarettes to youth but she says if it's to break up a fight who cares? No street kid turns down a free smoke and she says it gives them time to vent to her and cool down. It works almost every time.

When I was torn up about how KL was missing she was the only staff to express concern and not tell me to "just move on". She is the one street kids go to when we really need to say what's going on  in our lives. Hugs are scarce within street culture. And youth just plain don't hug staff. Usually, physical contact between staff and youth doesn't go beyond fist bumps or high fives.  I personally loathe hugs. We all hug Mom. Even more remarkable is that the youth initiate the hugs, not her.

On Thursday I went to the clinic because I honest to God thought I was going to die. Mom was there so I yelled to get her attention. I called her by her first name to which she responded, "Who just called me that?" She asked why I looked so sick and felt my forehead saying, "You're burning up. You need to go to bed. No work for a few days." Then she yelled at me for sitting next to her while she was smoking.

Street kids are not used to maternal care but I think more than anyone we need it. I can't imagine making it through the streets without having a mom. The encouragement, the guidance, and most importantly: the comfort is so essential to surviving in such a difficult lifestyle.

Being a mother has nothing to do with giving birth and everything to do with investing your time, energy, and love into a child. I'm thankful for my downtown Portland mom and all the other "mom"s I've had step up when my own mother failed. I consider myself fortunate to have so many wonderful women in my life to model myself after.

--MM

Sorry I'm a Douche

Sorry I haven't updated. I started two jobs and with school I'm stretched pretty thin.

Just wanted to let you know I'm okay for the most part. We're moving into our place fine. and everything is good.

I found Kitten Lady. She's in St. Louis but she's okay.

I'll post for real again some day.