Is the Hand That's Feeding You Worth By-ting?

(and the danger of satisfying the Monster’s appetites…)

How does it begin anyway? A baby bites the hand that feeds them, but what if it is more than that? And when you think about it: Why would anyone want to bite the hand that is feeding him or her? Unless…

What is behind the bite exactly? What if the person who is feeding you is also privately tormenting you, ever so subtly? First there is the hook: the tempting Tease of the dangling crumb or the promise of a good meal. Many of us know, oh too well the slow or never arriving—Follow-through. What must it be like to live every day, wondering if the hand that is feeding you will take the food away—again or maybe not even feed you at all? What is it like to continually have to face the very Monster that charms the world the moment he or she turns their threatening face away from you? The screaming obscenities, the endless and unwarranted ranting’s, the lies, the threats, the endless his-tri-on-ics and the scratching at your brain…for crumbs? (Could all of this really be my imagination? After all, to many, Monsters can be very charming and beautiful people and when you support and feed them, what happens? They grow…)

What is so very wrong with this seemingly common picture of the single mother or father waging the war of child-support and trying to care for his or her children, whole-heartedly? We try to maintain our sanity in a society and world that does not appear to value the well being of children, spiritually or physically. Even I have been reduced to text messages after several attempts at being ignored by my ex to help feed our three children over the years. Finally the text message that prompted him to take action and bring the children food shopping was a line from the movie, “Oliver”, repeated over and over and over again, only I didn’t sing it: food glorious food. (I wonder: did he think I was kidding? Do we ever ask for food if we really do not need it?) One relative sent me $100.00 and juice coupons over the past eight years with a card that read, “be sure to use this for food…” I felt like saying, “No, sweetie, I’m going to starve my kids and take your $100.00 to get a well needed and deserved massage...” At the same time, another relative was generous enough to allow me to work in their factory for a week with all non-English speaking employees, making sure that I got my equally allotted 45 minute lunch brake (and not a minute longer mind you—no nepotism here!) My fingers blistered from breaking cardboard boxes and I nearly suffocated from the whirlwinds of dust flying about the factory room. But (!) I became very familiar with the Mexican singer, Angeles Azules and the unforgettable sound of Mexican Rap!

And while there have been helping hands from some family, who really knows what they think or say about me or my children when we are not present…which is more often than not. It is not important to me, what other people’s opinions are, but it is important that the relationships I have with others is heart-felt. I have no doubt both families, his and mine would say that I am ungrateful and even acerbic—yes, that is so, but with good reason! Isn’t it the sarcasm with all comedians’ that makes us laugh and cry at the insanity of the truth? We either laugh at the horror of things in life or we will die crying.

* * * * *

When it comes to our children, what is responsibility? What is love? If something were not our responsibility, financially or morally, would it then fall under the category of love? “That we love you is why we shall help take care of you…” And if it is love do we give differently? Unconditionally? Are there requirements for what justifies our children’s needs and do we have to rely on what the courts and society deem “basic” and if receiving those needs is actually our obligation? Do we draw a line as to when we stop giving and at what age? Is what we don’t give to “teach them a lesson or two?”

(Is love really tough? Who started that rumor anyway?)

“Better the Devil You Know?”

I never understood that phrase or how it originated until after I fled my marriage. When it became clear to me I thought: but why stay with any Monster? For fear that you will leave one to end up with another? Why not escape them all and live alone—harmoniously in the good and honest company of your—Self?! Why not?

Perhaps my story, though primitive in concept is your typical example of “you made your bed now lie in it!” “You left your Devil and we are not your Savior…” “We’ll throw you a raft, if you’re lucky and behave, but don’t expect us to help you to the other shore, kid, you’re-on-your-own…” One family might feel, “you married him…” and the other is angry that I divorced him. What does it matter in the end who was right or wrong and whose story was more believable or accurate? Memory can be subjective, even in my case, but words have always had a way of weaving a thread on my brain where even if I were to lose my mind, the words that have been spoken to me, good or bad some how linger, haunt and yes, even comfort too. I remember what was done and what was said.

“Once harm has been done, even a fool understands it.”

Homer

So when the cupboards are bare and we must decide which bill to pay before we eat or ask ourselves if we really need ink for the printer or see a rare movie or possibly have a night out as a family, I am left with haunting memories. It is in those vulnerable moments when I remember so vividly the last scene of the movie, The Graduate. Dustin Hoffman in the balcony, clamoring on the glass wall in a church, calling out, “Elaine, Elaine, Elaine!” She is about to say, “I do.” at her wedding ceremony and all you hear is a deafening silence and all you see are the screaming, miserable faces of society, her parents, his parents, their “important” friends and all of their unimportant opinions, trying to send poor Elaine down a treacherous marital path with a man who “fits the bill” but does not fit her heart—and a man she inwardly can’t stand, but is “OK”—and Ben, beautiful, non-conformist Ben, just loves her and she secretly loves him, but doesn’t quite know it until she turns to face the crowded church filled with their families and society. In a blaze of Clarity she realizes that what she has been taught and fed all along was just lies, miserable lies. But society and family does not really support the right kind of truth or the right kind of love, they support conformity. They support the misery that loves its company…

This story so fittingly portrays our culture, our need to control, judge and be right. It reminds me of the words from family when I asked for help to feed my children seven years ago: “You don’t’ have the right attitude to be helped.” “I am indifferent to you and your children…tell them to work hard and get a good education…” “Go to a food bank and the Red Cross or join a church…” and when I merely needed a comforting word or two, maybe some sugar-coated Empathy and compassion, I got, “you’re not the only one doing this, you are not the only single mother out there…” Yeah, did I say I was? Didn’t people ever hear, “spread the love and the love will spread?” Give me a hug and I will pass it along, be mean to me and hopefully I will have the sense of mind to not copy your example for my children and others. Be unkind to me and remind me all that I strive not to be in life and the world.

Much of these examples were in response to a friend of mine suggesting that I email my family and ask them all to chip in for food every month to help feed my kids so I could maybe (?) get on my feet. At the time, seven years ago, I told them that it would only cost the same amount of a Starbucks coffee a day, but I guess that was too much to ask for or they just didn’t want to be bothered. As far as my ex’s family is concerned, they really didn’t get involved until recently, and they said, “if he had more he would give you double…” but that is not true. Actually, if I were in the road and he saw that no one was looking and he could get away with it he would run me over, again and again and again. That is the truth.

The majority of my pleading has been directed at the children’s father, which only gave him free reign and a continual opportunity to lash out at me and bark at me too. Yes that is true. Have you ever been barked at or howled at through a telephone? Still, nothing comes without explanations and constant waiting and asking over and over again before or if there is follow through. When you don’t have money, the linings of your pockets are always exposed for the Curious to see. When you have money: Hands are always in pocket. Maybe that is where the saying, “never show your hand…” came from?

One ex-relative wrote, “If that were me, I would sling hash for my kids…” Really? If they were in my situation they do not know what they would do. It is very likely that my life is unimaginable for some to even conceive of living for a day. That does not mean that my life is horrible, it means that for some, their words could not be backed up by action. It means that our lives are part choice and part circumstantial and with experience, hopefully we learn how to make wiser choices to better our circumstances if they are not so desirable.

We must all take responsibility for our lives (and the lives of our children) and I am no different from anyone else in that regard. However, I am presenting the challenge, which occurs when we make choices that are not aligned with a belief system that does not support us as individuals. This inquiry about coping as a single parent rose questions for me about what support is and where my responsibility lies with my children—every day, for many years now. It has been a whirlwind and I as many single parents as well as married couples do the best we can each day.

For anyone to say what they would do in anyone’s situation is probably what keeps so many people engrossed in media gossip and tabloid news. To say what we would do, is easy for it is not our reality. We can fantasize about all the things we would do if we were Walking in The Shoes of Others, because there is no need for follow through when we are just frolicking in our own imaginings…

“You have been beaten to earth? Well, well, well, what’s that? Come up with a smiling face. It’s nothing against you to fall down flat, but to lie there—that’s disgrace.”

Edmond Vance Cooke

I have wondered why things are they way they are, but in spite of all the Noise and the struggle to support my children, I am happy. (odd but true). I fall down every day. I pick myself up, every day. I have wondered if I damaged my Karma from a past life and that is why I was born into and married a family that are so far to the Right when I am so far to the Left—and my mother used to joke (?) “You were adopted…” Maybe she wasn’t kidding after all.

Perhaps there is a larger picture here and I am to see my life as the life of others and that my lesson is to take notice of all that I see around me and in some way be a voice of change, even if it is just in the way some people look at the situation of how single parents live, day to day. If there is little or no physical support, emotional or financial support how are these families to survive if not with the (loving) help of their families? What about the children? Why don’t we, as a society care about the happiness, spirit and well being of the children? (Or the mother and father?) The children and the families are our future. They are our hope. These children are the ones that will ultimately save or destroy our planet. Don’t we care? Doesn’t Joy matter? Doesn’t Happiness count? Is love and happiness just for the movies? Is that the only place we feel safe in feeling—love, with the lights out so no one can see the gaping holes in our hearts as the tears well up in our eyes at what we see on the large screen and what we do not have in our lives?

* * * * * *

We have a beautiful tri-color cavalier king charles spaniel, named, Baloo. I never make him beg for food and sometimes I even sneak him something really wonderful so he knows that life is not just about his hard little doggy pellets. All I ask from him is that he is polite and that he sits (and yes, sometimes at the table with our family). But I don’t make him bark for his food, I don’t request that he roll over, lie down, do tricks or cartwheels. I just ask that he be polite. He loves me to death and unconditionally. If he loves me because I feed him and for no other reason, so what? It works. We have a mutual respect for each other and he has never tried to bite me, unless, of course, I am trying to take something out of his mouth…hmmm.

So, when that Clock is about to strike 12 and that noon train is approaching around the bend; the tracks are laden with golden bricks pointing in a Direction and your life is asking you: Decide, Decide, Decide...what are you going to do, tell the truth or lie?

(only time will tell...)