A Thank You that Made Me Cry

This past year, I have become deeply passionate about homeless issues in my community. 

The spark that lit the flame came at a United Way Director's meeting that I went to as a representative for CSRC when my executive director was out on maternity leave.  The CEO of the the Larimer County United Way began the meeting by speaking about how strong the Fort Collins and surrounding communities are in the way that our people and businesses seek to help each other.  That once a problem is identified, that we seek to resolve it.  But that the one issue that we struggle to make headway with is the number of families and people who are considered chronically homeless.  He went on to say that he knows that many people think that being homeless is a choice, or the result of an addiction, and that we do not need to spend significant resources helping these people when they "choose" to not help themselves.  He finished with the simple statement of "I can't believe that any person would choose to eat out of a garbage can, would choose to shiver in the night when winter comes, and choose not to have a better life - if they felt they had the choice. We use our resources to help them see that they do have a choice, and when they realize that there are ways to better their situation, they are empowered to make a different choice."

In January, an email was sent out through the United Way asking for help staffing an emergency shelter that was being setup at a local church.  The local (permanent) shelter was filling up and people were being turned away to sleep on the streets in the varying temperatures of the Colorado winter.  This emergency shelter would be open from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m. every night between January and March.  They needed volunteers who would be willing to help set up between 9:45 p.m. - 11:00 p.m. and clean up between 6:30 a.m. - 8 a.m. 

I did not hesitate in volunteering my time.  What was I doing between 9:45 and 11 p.m. any night?  Sleeping, watching TV, blogging, facebooking?  These are all things that could be pushed aside. I could still go out to dinner with friends.  I could still walk my dogs.  I could still enjoy Modern Family or 30 Rock.  It was an hour and a  half of my time each week that I could give that could help.  And I'm so glad that I've done it.

It hasn't been hard work.  Roll out some tarps to take care of the floor.  Set out mats and cots.  Make sure people check in and give us demographic information (age, sex, race, etc).  I like being the person at the door that greets everyone when they come in - which also makes me the person who runs the breathalyzer.    I have not had a single person who has blown higher than a .00.  The 30, 40, even 50 men who have come seeking shelter are not drunks.  Sadly, many are veterans and many are mentally ill who do not have family who have been able to help them stay on their feet or give them shelter.  Many of them do have jobs.  They are just low income and can't afford the rising costs of apartments and houses that Fort Collins has seen in the past two decades.  This is really troubling to me. 

I've made it my rule to arrive at least 15/20 minutes early and wait outside with those who have gathered before the doors are opened.  I like to do this because I get to know those who are staying a little bit better. I hear stories, I share jokes.  There have been times that it was very cold, so cold one night that one man asked me why I didn't go back and sit in my car until the volunteer coordinator came. I told him that if he didn't have a car to wait it out in, then I could wait it out too.  He smiled at me and told me that it was admirable, but if he had a car to wait it out in, he would. 

If he had a choice....

This past weekend I went to Minneapolis for my new job.  We opened up our restaurant in downtown Minneapolis and gave a free holiday meal to low income and homeless families in a nice, sit down environment.  White table cloth, wrapped silverware, the works.  We gave around 250 people- many who were families with children- a memory of a traditional holiday gathering rather than having the memory of having to spend Easter in a shelter. 

At this event, I had a section of tables that I was the lead waitress.  I've been waitressing for many years, so I was able to go on auto-pilot a bit and step right back into the swing of things.  I was pulled aside by a single mother right before she was leaving the restaurant.

"You told me 'Thank you for coming and visiting us today" she told me. "At the shelter, no one says that.  I always feel like the people who are there [at the shelter] are there because we need them to be.  This is the first time that my kids have eaten in a restaurant and I know they were misbehaving.  But you still told me thank you for coming and visiting, and I felt like I was important."

I reached out and rubbed her shoulder.  Her kids were tugging on her shirt and the bus that was taking them back to the shelter had come, so she needed to go.  All I had time to say was "I would say that to any table I served.  And you are important."  She nodded with a big smile and left before I blinked out a few tears.

I don't know what the answer is to fix these problems.  I know that I am not rich so I don't have the ability to give a substantial amount of money to help fund these causes, but I can give my time.  I know that everyone deserves to feel important, because your self worth is what carries you during hard times.  

I don't know what the answer is to fix these problems.  But I know I can do the best I can to help.  And I can speak out and be a voice for this issue.

I'm making that my choice.

Dancing in the Streets

Fort Collins has what I consider a highly unusually phenomenon that happens on a daily basis.  I know that each and every one of you has seen sidewalk sign holders here and there in large cities, or at the very least has seen Justin Timberlake's take on sidewalk advertising with his hilarious skits on Saturday Night Live- Omletteville, Soup (There it is), and Plasticville.  If not....

Bring it on in to Ometteville...

Our city of 150,000 seems to LOVE this type of advertising.  On an average day, on an average drive, I will see at least 5 sidewalk/road corner sign holders.  I only drive 5 miles to work folks.  That's one per mile!

And they don't just stand there.  Much like Justin, they DANCE!  Every once in a while you will see someone who is just twirling their sign, looking very bored, smoking a cigarette.  More often then not, the hiring manager has struck gold with a person who has no qualms about strutting their stuff, with the sign serving as a favorite dance partner in a very public disco arenea. While waiting at stop lights I have witnessed renditions of Michael Jackson's "Thriller", Moon Walk, and "Beat It" Fight Scene.  I've seen Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies".  I've witnessed Saturday Night Fever.  More than once, I've been so transfixed by watching these signers groove that I completely forgot where I was at until the honking commenced to let me know that the signal had turned green.

While I find some of the most energetic signers mildly entertaining, my dog, Layla, HATES them.  More specifically, she hates the Liberty Tax signer that has been placed only a half a mile away from our place. Since January.  Every time we drive by and she's in the car, the hair on the back of her neck will bristle 5 seconds before she snarls and starts barking out the window.  This has happened everytime we've driven by.  Since January.  It was bad enough that we began distracting her and making sure that her window was raised when passing the Liberty Tax signer corner (which is on the main road we use to get anywhere so avoiding the corner entirely wasn't usually an option).

I'm not quite sure why she finds these guys threatning....

Ok- maybe I do.

Or maybe its just that Layla doesn't like taxes.  Or freedom.  Regardless, you can imagine the relief I had when driving by the corner of Drake and Shields to find the Liberty Tax signer dancing in the streets on Sunday, exuberantly waving a sign that read "The End is Near!"

While these foam statues disappear for 9 months, I will be on the lookout for new and exciting acts on my new route to my new job.  I'm guessing that we've got the cream of the crop of signers here in Fort Collins.  Not quite as proud of that fact as we are of our breweries, but it's definately something worth mentioning.

Afraid of the Breakup

By the time that I post this to my blog, I will be happy to announce that I have accepted the National Events Manager position for the CraftWorks Foundation.  However, I am writing this now on the eve of going to work and having to carry out the task of putting my notice in at a job that I have loved 99.5% of the time. 

I wasn't looking for a new job.  However, the National Events Manager position fell into my lap and was such an amazing match for my diverse background of hospitality, event planning, and non profit experiences.  Even better- I had a good friend with enough clout in the company that was more than willing speak on my behalf to the Director of Recruitment. 

I struggled when considering if I really wanted to apply for the job.  As I said, I was happy with my job at CSRC and the idea of leaving the clinic when I had ideas to still implement and tackle seemed preposterous.  In the end, I came to realize that I had been praying to God for an opportunity like this last summer when I was unemployed.  I found myself a bit humbled by my selfish thoughts, understanding that I couldn't pass this opportunity up just because it hadn't been delivered in my desired time frame.  My prayer had not been forgotten, just delayed (as it feels to me right now) and unexpectedly answered.  If ignored, I would be unappreciative of something that I had asked for. I decided to throw my name into the mix just to see. 

I wasn't surprised when I got a phone interview.  I was surprised at myself in that I did so well in the phone interview.  I had terrible problems with phone interviews last summer so part of me had an expectation that this interview would be the same.  Before the interview, I took pride in knowing I had gotten myself this far and was relaxed with the notion that my ride would end once I pushed the square black button on my phone to end the call.  Nothing was lost as I still had a great job to go back to.

But by the end of this phone interview, the Director of Recruitment was asking for an in-person interview and giving nuggets of self esteem boosters that made me aware that I was a, if not the, top candidate that they were looking at.  Nuggets like that I was the only person out of 200 qualified applicant resumes that had restaurant, event planning, and non-profit experience (the trifecta of the position's skills).  That her only worry about me was my potential commute (45 minutes from Fort Collins to Louisville where the position is based).  That she thought that even with this initial, short interview that I had a great understanding of what the position would ask of me and that made her feel like it was a great fit.

Part of me was elated, the other part began to worry itself.  I met my husband and a friend at the bar afterwards for a happy hour and shared the good news of the offer of a second interview.  Kendall looked at me and asked, "You're excited about this right?"  I hesitated too long.  "Katy- you have to be excited about this."  he repeated. 

Over the next beer, I rambled on about how I didn't know if I was ready to leave CSRC.  When I stopped talking between sips, our friend Carson nodded.  "I get it," he told me.  "You know this new job is the right thing to do.  You're just afraid of the break up."

Ding, ding, ding.  Carson gets the prize for nailing it right on the head. 

Before I went to my in-person interview, I did tell my executive director.  I felt like it was the right thing to do, so that she would have a bit of a heads up.  I still very nervous about telling her.  I had been fired a year ago for approaching my GM about applying for a different position in the same company.  Her take on my request for permission and the words that I used when asking for her permission was that I didn't appreciate my current position and she could find someone who did.  To say that I had been burned by trying to do the right, polite thing is an understatement- I felt torched and left for dead. 

Elise was not Trish.  When I told her about the position and opportunity to interview, she told me that she completely understood and that they would be stupid not to hire me.  We talked for 20 minutes about it and she said everything that I would have expected a supportive friend to say, not a boss.  The day of the interview, she wished me luck before I left.  The day after the interview, she asked me how it went.  As the days carried on and I didn't hear back, she let me be and we continued working.  She didn't let anything change, didn't take offense, still was appreciative.

I thought that I hadn't got the job.  I was convinced that I didn't get the job.  But I did.  I got my offer last Friday.  And, although part of me would have loved it if there was something glaringly wrong with the offer so that I had to tell them no, there isn't.  It's too good of a job to pass on and so I will begin a new journey in a few short weeks.

I am excited, I really am.  I feel like this is my chance to break out, to do something bigger than what I've done with the past six years of my life post college.  I will be organizing community outreach programs that focus on hunger and homeless issues, fundraisers, and holiday events.  It's so rare to find a corporate job that has a nonprofit focus.  I landed what feels like the PERFECT job for me. More about the foundation below:

CraftWorks Foundation Website

I don't think I would have gotten the job if I hadn't had Elise's blessing and support.  She gave me the strength and confidence that I had lacked in interviews last summer.  It's because of her leadership and guidance that I feel confident and ready for this position, and why leaving such a great work environment is so hard. 

I'm finding myself reminding myself, it's not personal- it's just business.  Even if it feels like it is personal.  Even if it feels like a break up.

So tonight, even as I am repeating the above mantra over and over, my heart is heavy.  It is the night before a break up.  It sucks just as much as it did in high school, knowing that I am having to give reassurances that even though it didn't work out between us, I plan on us still remaining friends.  That I want to stay involved with the organization and that has to happen, we have to make that happen, because CSRC has meant too much to me the past 9 months to just walk away.

I just hope it doesn't sound fake or rehearsed this time around, because this time I really do mean it.

Puppies trump Babies

Last week this little guy came to live in our neighborhood.  His name is Ruger and he is an 8 week old boxer puppy.  He is full of snuggles and happiness and smiles.  Or maybe that is just me whenever I see him.  It might be best to just consider this a mutual reaction at this time.

Snuggling with Ruger last night while keeping  him warm in my coat as our neighborhood gathered for an impromptu celebration of That Day (the unofficial first day of spring) reminded me of when my own two dogs were puppies. 

 

This was Penny Lane at 10 weeks.

And Layla, at 8 weeks, the day that we picked her up from the Humane Society.

It's hard for me to believe that these pictures were taken 2 and 5 years ago.  The time between sweet little puppy kisses and now has flown by.  I treasure those memories and am grateful that I was able to raise my pets from this point of their lives on.

Yes- I am a dog person.  I am definitely a puppy person.  The sight of a puppy will start me walking towards a stranger, asking "Can I pet your puppy?"  I need a puppy fix, like so many of my friends are now needing a baby fix, to satisfy maternal instincts.  

I have never needed a baby fix.  In fact, babies send me running in the opposite direction completely. I've shared this with some of my girlfriends who are now mothers, only to receive strange, sympathetic looks.  Looks that seem to echo "Is it possible to be a woman and NOT love babies?!"  

Yes.   If you could just give me a 3 year old kid, I would probably be more likely to add my name to the "kids-yes" list sooner rather than later.   But you can't just get a 3 year old, not if you want your own 3 year old.  You have to have a baby to get to that 3 year old. 

Here's the deal.  I know plenty of women that are scared of childbirth and that's what's holding them back.  Yes- I admit that childbirth does not sound appealing to me, but I also understand that's what pain medications are for.  What terrifies me is that I've never really been around a lot of babies.  I don't know what to do with them.  Babies scare me.  I don't want to do something wrong- hold them wrong, not talk to them enough, not change their diaper in time, and have it mess up the rest of their life.  

At work, I see a lot of disabled children who have moderate to severe disabilities. Most have disabilities that are developmental and even genetic, and I understand that as a parent those disabilities are something that you can't control because that's part of life.   But more than a few children have disabilities because their parents let something happen, haven't worked with the child enough, didn't make a child's problem a priority and it has escalated to the point of needing extra therapy, or the parents simply don't know how/care to fix the issue on their own.  That's scary to me.  I would not be that type of parent (so I would hope) but it makes me very aware that there's so much more to teaching a baby than sit, stay, off, down, heel, and check in.

I have been around a lot of puppies and dogs.  I feel very confident in my ability to train a dog.  I know how to simplify commands and demand attention.  I know how to establish myself as the "Alpha".   Layla will fetch beer out of the fridge, she will hold a treat in her mouth without eating it for 5 minutes- I have that dog under my thumb.  Yet, I still struggled with training Penny as she is much more strong willed and stubborn than many of the dogs that I've helped raised.  She is 2 years old and she is still learning, slowly but surely, and still finds ways to test my patience.  But if Penny's bad, I can leave her in her crate during the day.  That's acceptable, even recommended, for a dog who gets into things and misbehaves.

I've come to appreciate that puppies grow so quickly.  With most puppies (Penny not included), you only have to expect one year of hard core parenting before the puppy is mature enough to apply the lessons that you have been diligently teaching.  With children, it's a mandatory 18 years by law.  By law- not what you morally feel obligated to give because they are your own flesh and blood and you love them and whatnot.  

When I come home, both Penny and Layla are waiting by the door with tails wagging.  I know that they are telling me that seeing me right then is the best part of their day.  They aren't complaining about how much school sucked or that I need to give them a ride or that they need $5.  I am not sure that I ever told my parents that they were the best part of my day when I was a child.  It's just not something that occurs to children to say.  Yet that single acknowledgement from my pets at the end of my work day is often the best part of my day too.

Now I'm not going to say that we will never have children.  I'm sure that some day we will try to have a family and I'm sure at that time, I will hope that we will be successful.  But that day is very far away.  Right now, I am completely satisfied with the bi-species family that we have formed.  

Kendall, Penny, Layla and I hiking Arthur's Rock, March 2010.

Layla trying on my wig for Tour de Fat.  

Sometimes you pay a price for being the favorite child.

The Year after The Ugly Cry

One year ago tomorrow, my world felt like it was collapsing upon itself.  I was fired.  I was fired on the morning that my mother-in-law was having surgery.  To remove a cancerous tumor on her kidney, a continuation of her fight against lung cancer.  My husband was with her in Omaha so I had to come home to my house and reflect upon my failings, alone. 

That, my friends, was a terrible day.

It's funny for me to think about now how I cried over losing my job.  Today, I am glad I was alone in those moments because I know it wasn't pretty.  It was what I often refer to as "the ugly cry."  Even as I bawled, I tried to hold it in so much that the next day, the muscles in my throat hurt from clenching my jaw, trying to stop the hyperventilating.  Today, I realize that in those tortured moments I was releasing myself of everything that I had kept inside for too many months prior.

I had been struggling so long to keep everything together.  I wanted to be strong for Kendall and his family while we were going through this terrifying battle.  I wanted to do the best that I possibly could at a job that I hated.  I wanted to be the friend that I always had been, to be available to talk and laugh with at any moments notice.  I wanted to be a daughter and sister that made the 16 hours that separated us seem closer.

I was none of those things.  I knew it too.  I'd hidden my acknowledgement of my failings deep down, hidden away in the deepest crevice of my thoughts, ignoring the rumblings of discontent.  It was a fault line filled with, well, my faults and fears that I had attempted to control, because that's what I was doing at that point in time. I was controlling- not living- my life.

I would never wish to be back in that moment, one year ago, but it was a glorious, terrifying cry.  I would consider it humiliating, and definitely one of the lowest moments in my life thus far.

I am sure that there will be others that will top that moment.  However this first humiliation and utter failure has taught me so much about myself in the past year that it is hard not to look back and reflect on the ground that I gained as a person when confronted with the anniversary. 

Oh, there were tough lessons to swallow.  Let me see if I can regurgitate the best of them:

I could fail.  I could not be good at something, even if I tried my hardest.  Work had only been serving as a distraction from the hurt and confusion our family was going through while dealing with cancer.  My job and the way that I handled my job had hindered my ability to be the best wife, daughter, sister, friend that I had longed to be and my friends and family deserved to have.  I could be angry.  I could hate a person.  I feel better when certain people are out of my life.  There were things I couldn't control.  I had to learn to relax.  Who did I used to be, who had I become, and who did I want to be moving forward.  Even with being fired, I had career accomplishments to be proud of.  I had personal achievements to be proud of.  To get a new job, you need to be able to brag about yourself.  I had friends and family I could rely on, who loved me even when I fell apart.  Who I am was not dependent upon what I did career wise.  What made me happy and how the hell can I keep that in my every day life?  Why did it matter to me what other people thought.  Why did this experience all of a sudden make me feel like I wasn’t good enough.

The world does not fall apart when you feel like you are.  In fact, it keeps spinning.

Thank goodness for that. 

My world kept spinning.  At times, it made me dizzy to sort through all these self confrontations.  I kept asking questions of myself, but didn’t always find new answers.  I was the kid looking down at a reflection in the puddle, both delighted and dismayed when the same image reappeared after a carelessly dropped rock had disrupted the calm surface.

A year has gone by.  I realize that the questions that don’t have new answers are the same because I am who I am.  I think I’ve cleared a pathway, or at least made headway, in using this experience to help solidify the woman I am.  Some days it’s hard to accept personal limitations and flaws, it’s hard to acknowledge my failures. It’s something that everyone struggles with, but few are willing to admit.  Here I am, at 28, with the capability to realize that I am only human.  For that, I am grateful.

I am also grateful for the return of good things to my life.  The best of all being that my mother-in-law was given a clean bill of health.  She has remained cancer free since that surgery, one year ago tomorrow. 

Tomorrow will be an anniversary to be celebrated, with nothing to cry about.