So, back to college psychology class. It seemed like everyone in the class had the same goal as me – to learn more about themselves. We did exercises where we sat in small groups and were supposed to share something personal about ourselves. Immediately, members of my group were discussing their parent’s alcoholism, being beaten as a child or some other deep, dark secret. I had to rack my brain for something that I was comfortable sharing and still not sound lame. I finally came up with this jewel: “I once wet my pants in the first grade and had to go home and change and never told anyone.” That was when the class also realized that I was not a sharer, and I learned that psychology and I would not be getting along very well. I also became the person who no one wanted in their group. Since I have an Irish background, I guess I fall into the perfect stereotype of Freud’s supposed quote, “This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.”

When class dismissed, people would leave and continue their discussions outside the classroom, including the confidences that were shared there. No one seemed to respect the privacy of each individual and the information they shared. I watched many people laugh and poke fun at some of my classmates and their problems. I think these experiences in college are where my distrust of therapists began.

When I was ordered to see a therapist by a family law judge during my own custody trial, I’m pretty sure I saw the idea of a therapist as all of those former college classmates who laughed and gossiped about each other and their personal issues. Unfortunately, my experiences did not get better, but I have learned one valuable lesson. Never ignore your instincts, even when a professional makes you feel inadequate or unsure of yourself. The story below was originally written in October, 2007 on lonesophist[dot]com.

I Met Your Mom and Dad the Trees, But Please Don’t Get Dutch Elm Disease

Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I watched some show about child psychologists and some of the things to look out for when choosing a therapist for your child. I was glad to see this advice being given to parents because it seems like all I ever see is someone hastily referring a child to a psychologist or a judge requesting therapy for a child without truly evaluating the situation. I’m not quite sure when this trend started, but I have a newsflash for these people: Not all child psychologists are ethical and competent.

I need to qualify that statement, I guess, with saying that I am sure that there are some really good, really qualified, concerned child psychologists out there. I have just not met them. I have had bad experiences with therapists so I am skeptical. There are circumstances where therapy is necessary, i.e. an abuse situation, but I am only talking about problems facing children that are not life threatening or illegal. Translated: Not all situations are a Dr. Phil show, even though your therapist might think so.

When I was going through all of my various battles with my son’s father, my son saw numerous child psychologists and I never saw anything positive come from it. In fact, there were times it made the situation worse.

This television show was discussing invisible friends, or a child who lives inside his head and creates situations and makes up things. It reminded me of Plank. During my own legal craziness and custody trial, my son saw one particular therapist who always struck me as a little gullible for a professional. My son had found an abandoned square piece of wood in my dad’s shop and drew a face on him and named him “Plank.” Plank was his friend and rode beside him in the car and sat in his room and watched him play. Plank even ate dinner with us occasionally, if he wasn’t busy playing GameCube or watching television.

One weekend, my son left for visitation with his father and told me Plank wanted to go. When he returned home on Sunday night, he told me that Plank was mad because he had spent the weekend in his overnight bag, because his father would not allow him to play with Plank.

The following Monday, I received an urgent telephone call from my son’s therapist. “Please call me immediately, I have something urgent to discuss with you.”

These are words of horror to any mother who is going through a custody trial and is dealing with therapists, judges, lawyers, etc. My mind was racing and my heart was beating and I had an anxiety attack, worried what in the world had happened. Turns out, my son’s stepmother had declared a state of emergency over the Plank situation, and they had raced my son to the therapist on Saturday morning for an emergency session. When the therapist called me back, the conversation went a little like this.

“I’m very concerned about your son,” she told me. “He has invented an imaginary friend named ‘Plank,’ and he carries him around with him everywhere.”

“Yes, I know,” I told her. “Plank even has a face on him, did you see him? He actually did a great job drawing his face on him.”

“Trish, I’m not sure you understand what is going on. When I asked your son if he had any friends besides Plank, he told me NO, Plank is his best friend. I’m very worried that he thinks a piece of wood is his only friend.”

“Well, he’s just playing, I did not see where it was anything to be concerned about.”

*HUGE PAUSE WHILE SHE COMPOSED HERSELF TO DEAL WITH A HORRIBLE MOTHER LIKE ME WHO IS NOT TAKING THIS SITUATION SERIOUSLY ENOUGH*

“Trish, this is very serious. I am going to need to see him twice a week for the next few weeks and I think we need to set up conferences with his teachers and the school to find out what is going on regarding his relationships with other children at the school. I want to find out why he feels the need to make up a friend out of wood.”

*ANOTHER PAUSE WHILE I ROLLED MY EYES AND TRIED TO TAKE HER SERIOUSLY*

She insisted that I come in for an emergency family session so she could counsel me on how to approach this issue with my son and help him realize that Plank was not real and was just a piece of wood. So, I did a little bit of investigative work with my son.

“Hey, I have a question about Plank. Do you really think he’s your only friend?”

“No, he’s not my ONLY friend, he’s just my favorite right now.”

“So you do know that Plank is a piece of wood, right?”

“DUH, Mom, that’s why his name is PLANK.”

OK, I don’t know about you, but I just didn’t get the seriousness of this situation. However I was the one accused by my ex and his wife of being too liberal of a parent and not taking my son’s issues seriously enough. During this state of emergency, I took time out to have lunch with a friend. (See the trend here? I just don’t ever take anything seriously. Horrible mother, HORRIBLE!) I filled her in on the whole Plank issue. She finally said, “Wait a second, isn’t Plank a character on that cartoon, ‘Ed Edd & Eddy? ‘”

Hmmmmmmmmmm . . .

I knew my son watched this show, but I had never stopped long enough to actually pay attention to the show. Therefore, I did a little googling to get more info about this show, and lo and behold, I discovered Plank! After that, I sat down and watched an episode and saw the actual Plank video. An entire video called, “My Best Friend, Plank.” (video below)

I called the therapist to have a little convo.

“Hi, this is Trish. I wanted to talk to you about Plank. Did you know that he is a character on a show on the Cartoon Network?” I asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I did a little research on this Plank issue. Turns out, the kids on this show take a piece of wood and draw a face on it and call it their friend. There’s even a song called, ‘My Best Friend, Plank.’”

She was extremely embarrassed and told me she did not know this, and that she would talk to my son about it, blah blah blah. Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly), the Plank issue was no longer a crisis.

The hard lesson I learned from all of these crazy therapist experiences was that no one knows your child as well as you do, and if someone, including a professional, tells you something that you instinctively and intuitively know isn’t true, believe in yourself and your child. After my whole situation was over and this therapist had completed her “assessments” of everyone’s parenting skills and son’s various “problems,” I learned that this therapist had regretted some of her evaluations and decisions, and she even told me that she had seen a therapist herself to deal with how she had handled our situation.

Yet, even though she still walks free, she will always have to live with the sawdust of Plank on her hands.

Photo from Flickr user Cocomariposa.

Despite the diversity of the identity of single mothers, the media focuses on just a few select groups: teen mothers, welfare or homeless mothers, or women who became single mothers by choice, such as through IVF.

Even today, being a single mother has a lot of stigma attached to it, especially if you are unmarried when your child is born. When I found out that I was pregnant with my son, I had a great job, excellent insurance, lived in a great area, but had a crummy boyfriend. Sometimes I wonder if my situation would have been more acceptable if I had married the crummy boyfriend and quit the great job.

I had a very stressful pregnancy. I had preeclampsia and had an emergency C-section. After my son was born, I developed pneumonia. I was alone at the hospital because I thought my son’s father was coming so I didn’t call my parents because I was trying to avoid a confrontation. However, he did not show up. Since no one was there for me at the hospital, my doctor sent social services in to see me. I remember being half asleep in my hospital bed, trying to ignore the pain from the staples in my stomach and the breathing tube in my mouth, and looking up to see a strange woman attempting to talk to me. She told me that she wanted to discuss my options and had some adoption pamphlets for me. I asked her why she was there, because my doctor was well aware of my intentions of keeping my son. She took my hand and told me that it’s very difficult to raise a child alone, and there is no shame in choosing a better life for your child. I won’t go into all the details that occurred after that, but she was definitely convinced of my lack of need for her services. I am sure she had good intentions and was only doing her job, but I wish she had not made so many assumptions.

One of the questions that will get you a No. 1 spot at the top of my “you know what” list is to ask me if I ever look back and wish I would have had an abortion, knowing I would have to raise a child alone. As shocking as that question is to me, it has been asked of me in various forms by 17 different people (yes, I have kept count because it is so appalling and outrageous to ask a mother such a question).

Why do single mothers still face some of these prejudices? Have we evolved yet as a society to truly accept women as being capable of raising a child alone without feeling like she did something wrong?

Having been a victim of words I’ve written online being used against me, I now know that if I write something online, I should be comfortable with anyone reading it, from my first grade teacher and my mother to my ex-boyfriend or my son, with everyone in between. In other words, if you’re going to complain about a co-worker or a family member, I can guarantee you that if they don’t read it themselves, eventually someone you know will read it and pass along that tidbit.

If I send someone an email, I have no assumption that they will keep it confidential and not forward it to someone else, cut and paste part of it or even publish it online. Therefore, why do people think that anything they write online should be private?

Words are hurtful. I don’t believe in the saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” That’s just not true. I occasionally forget that, myself. In fact, when I first started blogging, I’ve mentioned many times that I was careless and have numerous stories of my words written online coming back to haunt me. I thought I was anonymous and no one in my personal life even knew my blog existed. My son was on a local soccer team and I was one of the team mothers. Another mother on the team was really loud and would stand on the sidelines cheering for the kids, singing songs and running alongside the kids while they played, many times drowning out the coach. She was a distraction and very annoying. All the parents agreed. I wrote about her, making fun of her and that post got a lot of laughs. Guess who read it and brought it up at the next parent meeting? Guess whose blog URL was passed around to all the soccer parents? Was that really the way the team mother should behave? Not really. But how was my post any different from all the other mothers sitting around in person and laughing about her and her overhearing us?

I do understand that people do not want their email addresses published, or their personal information shared without their consent.  However, do you remember phone books? What about real estate transactions? A lot of parents have no problem with pictures of their children being published in the newspaper, or even used in a photographer’s portfolio, yet some parents draw the line at publishing photos of their children online.

I worked in the legal profession for nearly 15 years doing a lot of different kinds of research. I have performed extensive background checks on people and organized background information on many people for various reasons. Even if I found information about someone by searching for them online, I used other means to verify the information. I guarantee you that if you gave me your name and the city in which you live, I could find more information about you outside of social media than by using it.

One of the things recently being complained about was an example of someone who used one email address to email people anonymously and another email address for personal reasons, with the concern being those contacts would show up publicly because one address was forwarded to the other. (I’m not going to link it here.)  As someone who has been through this experience personally, DO NOT FORWARD ONE EMAIL ADDRESS TO ANOTHER. After my custody trial, I created a separate email address to communicate with my son’s father and stepmother, the school, and the court therapist. I logged into that account separately and sent email directly from that account. I never forwarded that email address anywhere and I never downloaded it into another email client. Was that a hassle? Of course. But that was the only way I was 100% sure that those people only had one email address to contact me and that I did not make a mistake when I was in a rush. If that was still going on in my personal life, I would not have any social media accounts, I would not be writing online and I would still be using two separate email addresses. Therefore, if they did stumble upon any public profiles, there would be nothing for them to “find.”

I have to ask, though, if someone is truly worried about being stalked or about their safety, why would they risk it by publishing online or by writing anything that could possibly identify them?

So, my only advice, based on my experience and background, is if you want to remain anonymous on the internet, it really is possible. Here’s how: NEVER PUBLISH ANYTHING ON THE INTERNET. Is that harsh? Yes, but it’s also true.

The problem is, no one can stop it but me. At the start of the new year, I decided to make more of a conscious effort to get rid of those negative feelings, my own negative outlook, and try to make that black cloud hanging over me disappear. I started writing in a journal again, privately, to push myself to put my thoughts on paper and to stop living inside my head with the doubts and fears that continually cry out, “You’re a failure, you’re not capable, you have no skills!” It’s easy to look at that behavior and know it’s wrong and self-destructive, but much more difficult to change.

When I start a new project, I am usually excited, inspired and motivated. However, it’s too easy to let negative comments from people bring me down and the self-doubt starts to appear. No one in my personal life has many nice things to say about someone who isn’t racing to a job for 9-10 hours a day. Many people have told me that the way to overcome feeling down or to get over someone’s death is to get a job that doesn’t give me any time to think or wallow in misery.

When my best friend died, I spoke at her memorial, and wrote a tribute to her. Many people commented to me after the service how touched they were by what I had written, and I had to laugh at the comments. “Trish, you should be a writer.”

Fast forward to a few days ago, when I was contacted by the local library education director, who was looking for someone to teach a class on writing and publishing online, and someone who remembered my speech at the memorial suggested she contact me. Many people here are aware of blogging or keeping an online journal, but don’t know how to get started. She asked if I might be interested in teaching this class once a week, and get a sense for community interest, and possibly help people improve their writing skills.

I was immediately excited by her request, and told her yes, of course, I would enjoy teaching other people about a subject I am so passionate about. The next morning, the doubts and fears started creeping in — What if no one shows up? What if people show up and demand their money back after it sucks so bad? What if . . .

I couldn’t see through the fog enough to think, What if people are able to learn something they wouldn’t otherwise know? The anxiety was incredible. I finally thought, ‘I can’t do this. I’m going to call her and tell her to find someone else and I can just contribute behind the scenes and not deal with people.’

In the middle of this panic and anxiety, I was watching my Twitter feed, and saw the following come across my feed: “4 Tips to Help You Acknowledge Anxiety and Fear.” I clicked over, and read Tammy’s tips for working through the fear, embracing it, and using it to be more successful. I knew all these things. They’re logical, right? But I always forget them when I’m stuck on the escalator to nowhere, with all those negative voices yelling at me along the way.

I sat here, mad at myself for already falling through the rabbit hole of despair, and not being strong enough to keep my goal of thinking positive and believing in myself more. I realized it’s a slow process, and bad habits are really hard to break. But reading about someone else facing the same struggles, working through them and being strong enough to share them and compose such excellent advice for other people made me realize that maybe I could do the same thing for someone else. Maybe someone who signs up for that class could have the same revelation. Or if not, at least I have worked through my own anxiety and panic attack to feel like I’ve moved one more rung up the positive thoughts  ladder.

It doesn’t help my confidence level to the point that the anxiety goes away. But it does feel better that I’ve overcome one hurdle, knowing I’m getting better, and perhaps 2010 really will be the year of positive change.

Photo by Flickr user, mullenkedheim.

Trying to hold steady on the righteous path
80 miles an hour with a worn out map
No time for self-pity or self-righteous crap
Trying to stay focused on the righteous path
(Drive-By Truckers)

Any time I open a newspaper or read the news online, the headlines always include something to do with the current unemployment rate, the economy, or some other crisis that involves money. The experts continue to tell us about it as some sort of reminder, “You’re not worrying enough,” or “Stop spending money.”

I’ve never been an extravagant person or spent an enormous amount of money on unnecessary things. However, I do have days when I worry excessively about not getting by or something unplanned happening that will require an infinite supply of ready cash.

It’s very scary, and many times, if I let myself, I will fill my days with fears of the future, unseen monsters who want to ruin my life and visions of dying in a box on the side of the road, where people walk by, uninterested, and eventually I am taken to the morgue and marked as “Unclaimed Jane Doe No. 5271302.”

It’s outrageous, I know, but it’s fueled by the media, acquaintances, and the current state of the world we live in today. To offset these worries, I see many articles listing things that people can do for entertainment or enjoyment that cost nothing, or very little. Some of the suggestions include things like “Go to a local festival in your area.” Festivals and carnivals are great, and I enjoy them a lot. However, even when admission is free, have you ever gone to a festival and not spent any money? Another suggestion might be to visit the local museum. This is a great suggestion for someone who lives in a larger city. I live in a small town, and going to a museum, which is FREE, requires that we drive 30 miles in the car, find a parking space (which is hardly ever free). If the plan is not to spend money, then that requires plenty of planning to pack snacks or a lunch or leaving in time to make the drive home before anyone gets hungry. This seems extremely stressful and complicated for an outing that was supposed to be free and cost me nothing. My sanity and stress level are worth something, right?

So I’ve been thinking, what about people who truly want to do something that costs NOTHING, or what about someone like me, who doesn’t live near a metropolitan area? Surely I can do things to bring happiness into my life without a lot of effort, time, money, or even leaving my neighborhood?

Yesterday, I was talking to someone who offered me a piece of Wrigley’s Spearmint gum. I almost declined, then changed my mind. As I put the stick of gum in my mouth, I remembered my childhood and my grandmother digging in her purse for a stick of gum to give me and how exciting it always was to taste the sugary gum. The taste of that gum made me happy and made me smile.

That’s when I decided to make my own Spearmint Gum list — My own list of really free things to do that cost me absolutely nothing, but still make me happy and reduce stress. Technically, that pack of gum costs about 50 cents, but I thought I could splurge for such a sentimental memory.

Smile at a stranger. This is probably more common in the south, but we all know that a random act of kindness from a stranger can change the direction of the day. I’ve decided to consciously be that random stranger, instead of always referring to other people who do something that lifts my spirits. Therefore, I plan to remember every day to smile or say hello to one random person I see every day. Smiling costs nothing, and even cheers me up when it’s returned or someone says hello.

Get up 15 minutes early, just for me. This is really not as difficult as it sounds, but I am the worst at hitting the snooze button because I know that I can rush and still make it and get my son out the door for school. However, the times that I wake up early, before the alarm, and spend a few minutes just thinking about the day or enjoying the quiet time, have made a huge difference in my attitude that day. The challenge now is to not turn this into a chore or obligation, but to do it because I enjoy it and it makes me happy.

Eat lunch outside. With spring nearly here, the weather will be mild in Texas and it’s the best time to sit outside and just enjoy the pretty days. Since I work at home, I want to make a commitment to fixing my lunch, taking a break, and enjoying my back yard. This will help me stay on track with my goals of cooking at home and remaining on a practical grocery budget.

Take more photographs. I have a really nice camera that sits in my camera case more than it’s used. I really regret this because I love taking pictures and enjoy the creativity those photos can inspire. Life gets in the way and I find myself making excuses daily as to why I’m not spending more time with my camera. No more excuses. I plan to combine #3 and #4, along with daily neighborhood walks and bike rides, to take pictures, enjoy the outdoors, relax and feel creative.

Smell the lavender. I think smells are important. I love scented candles, essential oils, lotions and herbs. Everyone enjoys the smell of something, and three of my favorite smells are lavender, rosemary and peppermint. When I put lotion on my hands, I can sit there for several minutes just enjoying the fragrance. It’s relaxing.  Fill in the blank with your scent, but stop and smell the lavender.

Photo credits Flickr users: celine nadeau, icools, twoshortplanks, dotbenjamin

“What I’m hearing which is sort of scary is that they all want to stay in Texas. Everybody is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway so this (chuckle) – this is working very well for them.” –Former First Lady Barbara Bush, on the hurricane evacuees at the Astrodome in Houston, Sept. 5, 2005

“Now tell me the truth boys, is this kind of fun?” –House Majority Leader Tom Delay (R-TX), to three young hurricane evacuees from New Orleans at the Astrodome in Houston, Sept. 9, 2005

So many negative things were said about the people of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. I live in Houston, and was one of the volunteers who worked at the Astrodome with the evacuees, and also helped distribute school supplies that were donated from bloggers all over the country. I never saw anyone who felt “lucky” to be in Houston and felt like leaving New Orleans was some sort of golden opportunity. Most of the children did not view their new experience in a new city and a new school as “kind of fun.” Most evacuees felt lucky to be alive, mourned the loss of their homes, their friends, and sometimes their relatives. They mourned the destruction of their great city, and were desperate to return home. Many waited months for help and some people are still struggling to rebuild.

The things that remained constant among every resident of New Orleans were hope, determination, and a positive attitude.

Stated very simply: I love New Orleans. The history, culture, and love that resonates from that city is remarkable. No one is a stranger and everyone there takes the term “southern hospitality” to a new level. Every time I visit, I feel like I leave a piece of my heart behind when I leave. We have spent the last three Thanksgiving vacations there, and I’m happy to see that my son loves the city as much as I do. He always comments when we’re there, “The people are just so friendly and nice here.”

New Orleans has always been known for parties, and especially Mardi Gras. After last night, they’re also known for football, and for dedicated, loyal fans who never give up. It was interesting to see the topics on Twitter over the past several weeks during the football playoffs. When New Orleans played Minnesota, the trending topics on Twitter were Brett Favre, Minnesota, Vikings, etc.  New Orleans Saints never trended during the entire game. The Saints were predicted to lose and as we all know, they didn’t. The Saints were predicted to lose the Super Bowl and as we all know, THEY DIDN’T.

This win meant more to the city of New Orleans. The Super Bowl win of the New Orleans Saints is more than a football game victory. It is a representation, once again, to the rest of the country and the world that the people of New Orleans are not defeated, never have been, and never will be. The City of New Orleans is proud, strong, and true to its heritage, its roots and its people.

So, imagine my surprise to see this post retweeted over and over last night on Twitter.

I have never seen any resident of New Orleans claiming their city represented defeat and vulnerability. Anyone who returned to New Orleans after Katrina represents the exact opposite of defeat and vulnerability. Anyone who supports a football team to manic proportions, despite the national media calling them the “Aints” do not represent defeat.

I doubt the original author of that tweet mean anything negative towards the residents of New Orleans. However, it does show the ongoing and underlying attitude that so many people have had towards this city since Katrina. Sure, it’s ok to visit Bourbon Street and party during Mardi Gras or the Jazz Festival, but most people return home, go back to their daily lives, and forget about the inspiration of this magnificent city and its people.

“We finally cleaned up public housing in New Orleans. We couldn’t do it, but God did.” –Rep. Richard Baker (R-LA) to lobbyists, as quoted in the Wall Street Journal

Well, New Orleans is still here. And still standing tall. Still rebuilding, and getting stronger every day. I’m hoping what the author meant, and what most people like me feel, is that we’re all glad that New Orleans is receiving international attention, but this time, it’s all positive. WHO DAT?  NOBODY!

I want to start this again, but this time, my goal is to see if we can cook and eat at home for $50 a week. With a bit of organization and planning, I think I can whittle the grocery bill down to this amount. I have always given myself a mental free pass if I have a meeting that involves a meal or I have some other plans or scheduled event that involves eating out. The goal was not to deny myself anything, but to make more of an effort to think about the money I spend and the quality of the food we eat, and to reduce stress (What’s for dinner? I’m starving, when are we eating?)

I see many helpful articles on eating healthier and cheaper, with some of them actually documenting the costs of each meal. One thing I’ve noticed is that a lot of recipes assume that you have specific things already, so it is not figured into the cost. If a recipe calls for a cup of flour and I happen to have some in my pantry, then that recipe costs me nothing extra to add the flour. However, if I’m out of flour and I have to buy a new bag of flour for $5, then the cost of that meal just increased. It breaks down to the same amount spent, but that makes a difference when you have a specific grocery budget and don’t want to immediately spend that extra $5 on flour. My goal is to be able to plan my menu so that I don’t have to rely on having things around, but to buy everything I need for the week on Sunday, and only return to the grocery store for milk, if necessary, and eventually do all that for around $50.

So basically, my goals to achieve this are:

1. Create a weekly grocery list and menu;
2. Cook two meals on the weekend to freeze to lessen the urge to get takeout or fast food when stressed;
3. Bake at least once a week (even if it’s the breadmaker);
4. Maintain the herb garden.
5. Track the costs to see how close I can eventually get to $50.
6. Consistently document the results.

Having left corporate America and the fast pace of a downtown law office, I can relate to many of Everett’s stories and ideas. I no longer own clothes that cost a month’s salary, but I also don’t spend $1000 a month commuting to work.

What a lot of people now are calling “minimalism,” is basically just a return to ideas used by our relatives from past years. We have spent the past few decades rushing around trying to live out this dream we have for how our lives should be, when most of us (at least I used to be) are so out of touch with how our lives really are. Our grandparents and great-grandparents had it right all along.

A big joke in my family is how far my mother can stretch a dollar. I come from an upper middle class background, but my mother was not extravagant. When we were younger, she made all our clothes, and I cannot remember a time where we went out to eat or had takeout food. Sometimes I think my fascination with stopping in at diners on road trips is due to all the family vacations we spent during my childhood eating at rest stops. Days before a vacation, my mother prepared meals and snacks, packing two large ice chests full of food and drinks for the road. When lunchtime arrived, we didn’t drive through McDonalds. We stopped in a park or rest area and had sandwiches and fried chicken, prepared by my mother before leaving home.

I remember going to the zoo as a child and eating the sack lunch my mother had packed for us, watching while all the kids ate pizza and burgers from the various vendors. The funny part was that while I was envying the junk food the other kids were enjoying, mothers were asking my mother where they could purchase the fruit and cookies we were eating.  Every summer, we all went to my grandmother’s house and helped her can tomatoes from her garden. As my grandmother got older and began living on a limited income, she would give everyone a case of her canned items for Christmas gifts. My grandmother thought her gifts had no value, but I would much rather have jars of fresh preserves, green beans and tomatoes than a sweater or bathrobe.

The interesting thing about my childhood is that while my mother had basically adopted a minimalist lifestyle, she encouraged that we do the opposite. In Everett’s book, he states, “Many people are being told to sit down, shut up and pay their mortgages. This is no way to live.”  He’s right. When my son was younger, I used to envy the mothers who could go to every school function, who could volunteer in their child’s class and who could pick their children up from school. I was a single mother, so I had to work, and work for me meant a 2.5 hour round trip commute every day, with my son in daycare until 6 – 6:30 p.m. at night. I was miserable, and also felt incredibly guilty. When I would tell my mother how much I hated my job and how I wanted so badly to have more time for my son, she told me that I had no choice and that I should accept my life and deal with it, even if I hated it.

Thank you, Everett, for making the simple statement that we really don’t have to just “shut up and deal with it.” We cannot only be frugal, live simply and consume less in our personal lives, but we can also do this professionally, survive AND be happy. Imagine that! It’s too late now for me to be the class volunteer for my son’s kindergarten class, but it’s not too late for me to accept my life the way it is, and be happy, without all the designer clothes, fast-paced lifestyle, expensive dinners and trips out of town every other weekend. Instead of going to a really cool place and spending all my time working, hopefully now I can go to a really cool place and spend all my time sightseeing and relaxing.

This is a great book, and I will definitely be adopting some of Everett’s suggestions and ideas into my own life. Everett blogs at Far Beyond the Stars and is also on Twitter as @evbogue and for a limited time, you can download Everett’s book for a reduced price.

Over the past few years, participation in social media has exploded, with people spending more time on Facebook, Twitter, Friendfeed, among many others. Therefore, I found myself spending more time using these services. Not long after joining Twitter, I noticed a lot of people talking about and joining a new service called ‘Friendfeed.’ Along with many others, I migrated over there and found a growing community. It was a great combination of a 90s-era chat room and interesting links, comments and discussions.

As a result, I stopped writing as much because my social media time creeped into the time I was allowing for personal projects. Bottom line: It was fun, interesting and engaging, especially for someone who spent a lot of time at home, like me. I work from home, I’m a single mother, and I live in a small town. In addition, I’m not an outgoing person and I’m pretty much a homebody. Therefore, it seemed to be a great way to not just read my RSS feeds, but discuss them as well.

Just like any other internet activity, drama soon followed. I won’t go into that here, because anyone who has spent more than 5 minutes interacting on the internet has experienced the big D. It’s everywhere – It’s not exclusive and doesn’t discriminate.

This past summer, when Facebook bought Friendfeed, many people rushed to declare that Friendfeed was dead. Just like a loyal lover or spouse, Friendfeed’s many fans spent countless hours defending it and insulting anyone who dared to say anything negative or agree to its upcoming demise.

People use social media for many different reasons, and personalize the tools in many different ways that work best for them. When people stop using a service, they analyze it differently. Some are for technical reasons, and some are social, or maybe it’s just to follow the herd over to another new and shiny service. Everyone’s reasons are different, and most people’s choices are personal.

I intentionally began spending less time on Friendfeed. I found that the drama and negativity there dragged me down and tended to affect me in a negative way, and I was unable to ignore it. I read many cries of “Hide and Block what you don’t like!” but the problem with using these features is that you’ve already seen or read the things that are giving off the bad juju. Hiding and blocking doesn’t erase it, so that just didn’t work for me. However, most of the time, I continued to enjoy using Friendfeed just as much or more than I hated the bad stuff, so I always found myself keeping up with posts and checking in, even if I wasn’t actively participating. I was also using it as an RSS aggregator, because it was easy and I could keep up with many things while I had it open. Meanwhile, there seemed to be this snowball effect going on, where the craziness grew into big clown monsters that eat you while you sleep and spit you out like the old guys in front of the barber shop chewing tobacco. (How’s that for QQ exaggeration?)

I admit, I’m an overly sensitive person. Even if I ignore people’s bad behavior (or even my own, when I would stupidly get involved), I tended to absorb the negative energy. So I spent way too much time lingering over the delete button, wanting to remove myself, but never quite getting to the point of walking away. Then, one day last week, it hit me:  If I spend so much time in my personal life getting rid of negative energy and staying away from people who bring negativity and criticism into my life, why am I inviting it into my life daily by logging into this service?

When people in the past deleted their Friendfeed accounts, many negative comments were made about how strongly someone disagreed with those decisions, and countless jokes were made at that person’s expense. Some people leave in haste or in anger, and once they calm down, realize that they made a rash decision, only to return after a few days or weeks. Each person makes the decision that’s best for them. None of them are wrong and truthfully, all of them are right – for each individual person. In my opinion, our differences are what makes social media fun and interesting. Therefore, shouldn’t we be embracing those differences instead of ridiculing them when we don’t agree with their choices?

My choice, and my decision, was to aggregate my feeds elsewhere, and continue using social media and those tools in the way that works best for me. Unfortunately (and sadly), that doesn’t include Friendfeed.

So long, Friendfeed, and thanks for all the fish.

Keep in touch: Twitter, Facebook

Jeanna had a full-time job as a manager of a local bookstore, where she had excellent health insurance. When her mother was diagnosed with liver cancer 3 years earlier, she reduced her hours at the bookstore to be more available for her 87-year-old father, who lived with her. She never went back full-time after her mother’s death, which meant she no longer had health insurance.

Jeanna was from an upper middle-class family, had a college education and until that point, had always had insurance and taken care of herself and her medical needs.

In early May, 2008, Jeanna began showing signs of a bladder infection, and being familiar with the symptoms, she bought an over-the counter medication until seeing a doctor . She began feeling worse, and called me one day, frantic, because her skin had turned yellow. She was afraid that she had overdosed on the medicine, and feared her skin was turning yellow from the medication (which usually causes your urine to change color when treating a bladder infection). I urged her to see the doctor, but she was hesitant and hoped drinking more water and flushing out her system would help.

When her skin stayed yellow, she went to the emergency room and was admitted to the hospital, where she was told she had jaundice, and several tests were done to check her liver. We were all worried because her mother had died of liver cancer, and hoped for the best. An x-ray showed a mass in her stomach and she was sent for more tests.

Because she had no insurance, her doctors wanted to keep her in the hospital so she could get the care she needed. Jeanna was upset and embarrassed by how she had been treated upon her arrival in the emergency room. She told me that she was ashamed and humiliated by the change on everyone’s faces when she stated she had no insurance. She said the nurses wrote “UNINSURED” in red marker on the outside of her chart and left it hanging on the wall for everyone to walk by and see. Therefore, instead of staying in the hospital to get the treatment she needed, Jeanna was discharged and planned to get the tests she needed on an outpatient basis, away from the judgmental attitudes she had experienced in that hospital emergency room.

Jeanna spent the next 3 weeks attempting to have tests done and trying to see doctors to find out what was wrong with her. She was continually told that she could not get treatment, even if she was able to pay by cash (which she was willing to do).

Two weeks later, all her organs shut down. She barely made it to the emergency room again, where she was told she probably would not make it through the night. She had bile duct cancer. We all received a frantic phone call to come right away. I raced to the hospital, wondering how bad she was and silently cursing the U.S. healthcare system and insurance companies, including the doctors who had refused to see her over the past several weeks.

Once I arrived, Jeanna was awake, feeling good and not behaving anything like someone who had just a few hours left to live. I learned later that she was undergoing dialysis, which had caused a temporary improvement in how she felt and looked. She spent the next week in the hospital, with no hope for treatment or any improvement. The hospital administrators had originally told her family that she would be able to stay in the hospital until she died, but they came back later and insisted that she be discharged to hospice care. Their response to any questions always ended with “We cannot treat her because her condition is terminal and she has no insurance. We need the bed for someone who can recover.” We were concerned she would not make the ride back home, because the hospital was a 90 minute drive away from the hospice facility. I couldn’t understand why the hospital would discharge her to experience an uncomfortable, 90 minute ride home with just a few more days to live.

Jeanna was checked into the local care facility as a hospice patient. We spent the next few days trying to make her as comfortable as possible, while she was given minimal care. When the time came for the hospice nurse to be called, we sat with her trying to do whatever we could to help her. I think all we were doing was making ourselves feel better, or finding some way to occupy ourselves so we could feel useful, when we were really useless, especially to Jeanna.

Jeanna kept refusing pain medication, and did not want to be sedated on morphine. As her condition worsened and she was no longer conscious, she was obviously in pain and was incoherently babbling and thrashing around. I begged the nurse to give her more pain medication, and later learned that she was being given the most minimal medication as possible, because she was an uninsured patient.

Her family and I spent the night in her room, unable to leave. That night was the most horrible night of my life. I cannot think of anything I have ever experienced as difficult as watching my best friend die in such a painful and inhumane way. All because she didn’t have insurance. Would Jeanna have lived if she had felt more comfortable seeing a doctor, instead of being ashamed to ask for help, because of how uninsured people are treated by healthcare professionals?

Jeanna died at 5:30 a.m. on August 3, 2008. Maybe there was no hope for her and by the time she was diagnosed, there was really no treatment available. However, how much of this could have been prevented if Jeanna had been able to see a doctor a few years ago and have all the tests she needed? If the huge mass in her stomach had been discovered a year earlier, could Jeanna have lived longer? Either way, wouldn’t her quality of life have been better?

If we live in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, why are any of our citizens treated so poorly?