This Is Me

During an introductory college course an instructor told me I should be a writer.  So what did I do?  I changed my major and landed myself where I am today...writing a blog in hopes I'll get enough readers to earn my way off food stamps.

I say a little prayer each time I start to write on this blog.  I pray someone will find my words valuable enough I can start to provide for my 3 year old and my newborn daughter sleeping in the next room.

To some it may seem ridiculous to be calling on a higher power to help me with such a matter...but I figure whatever help I can get is surely appreciated (didn't the Israelites pray for manna from heaven? Come to me manna!)

My life is mostly good.  Possibly even great.  I am happily married with two young children not yet in school.  Both my husband and I have college degrees and are living the American dream...or so I thought.

For the last four years I have been the wife of a police officer.  This translates into no longer being myself but instead being known as the "cops wife".  It also results in a jaded view of humanity.  My husband spent a lot of time with the poor, the addicted, the illegal, the uneducated, and the downright lazy.  He came home with bruised knuckles from being attacked by his clientèle.  He saw the disability checks in the kitchens of able-bodied drug dealers and the church donated food in their cabinets.  Stuff like that messes you up.

Though I did not see firsthand what my husband did, I had my own eye-opening experiences.  For a time I taught the youth of low income populations at a treatment facility for criminal teenagers.  Most of these kids came from Native American tribes, the black ghettos of Chicago and D.C., or white trash America.  Taxpayers were footing the bill for their treatment...and too be honest, I am sure that despite my best efforts many of them were back in prison within six months of completing treatment, spending their lives supported by the American dime.  What a tragedy.  What parasites to be living on the government...oh wait...I'm living on the government!  I am officially a parasite.

 

Now fast forward a few years, and you'll find me today.  I am sitting in my fluffy purple robe waiting for my baby to wake while I type and pray to God that allowing the world to know of my humiliating experience will pay off.  I just received my food stamps card and am living my American nightmare.  This is Me…and This is My Story.