No good deed goes unpunished, The Final Chapter

The ironic story of  how Doing a Good Deed can come back to bite you in the butt months later.

      Not being fond of bill paying, I write several months of rent checks at one time, post-dated to match the arrival of the Welfare Check (mom's words). I dutifully logged 1958, 1959, 1960, wrote 1961 & missed logging it. This will come into play later.
     In July, I became friendly with a young woman at work. Her car was stolen and recovered with damage, including the loss of the car seat for her darling baby girl. I reached out to my friends. The wonderful people in my circle donated money to repair her car and a car seat to replace the lost. Wisely, I handled the payments to the auto repair shop. I brought her into my home to get the on-line paperwork completed to be sure she had proper pre-natal care, since she was pregnant again. We discussed the trip to Planned Parenthood we would be making after the birth of baby #2. A couple weeks later, she needed to follow up, so I put her in front of my computer, on my desk and went about my house stuff.
      During a routine check of my bank account, I noticed a check for $200, which I had not written. Printed the check out - SURPRISE. Made out to this young woman, in her hand writing. Just not signed. Luckily, my bank had not disbursed the funds. That check went back to the poor sap who accepted and paid $200 for an unsigned check. According to my check register, checks #1961 & #1962 were missing. 1962 was fraudulently written, #1961 unaccounted for. So a Stop Payment was put on it.
     Come August/September:  mysterious charges on my debit card. I live alone, rarely is anyone else in my office. It seems this same young woman had copied down the info for my card (conveniently FOR ME taped to the monitor). I now know she has T-Moblile, is fond of North China food and Pizza Hut. Cancelled the card, was reimbursed by the bank, less fees, for the stolen funds.
     Final insult to injury: Check #1961 was actually written to my long-suffering landlords. Who had been so understanding about holding the check until it the money was there. And It Was The Stop Payment Check. Let's add another couple fees (mine & theirs) to the price of doing a good deed.
     No, I did not file charges on the stolen check. I could not have it on my conscience that her daughter would be thrown into the system if she went to jail. Someone will do it, sometime soon I'm pretty sure. It just won't be me.
     This will not stop me from trying to help someone else. I just will be be MUCH MORE CAREFUL about who and where.
     The framed plaque "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished" (a remnant of a real estate deal) is out again.

To Clean or Not to Clean? That is the question.

Can anyone explain to me the decidedly female mania about cleaning the house before anyone from out of town comes to visit?
I mean, I live in it every day. It's good enough for me.
My house has a certain reputation for being 'company' presentable all the time. Actually, most entertaining happens after dark. There is a reason for that. If everything is picked up, put away & tidy, the layer of dust is not visible. It is even less visible if untouched, leaving an even surface with nothing to mar the look. I do knock the dust off the wine rack & bottles, because it's a sure bet someone is going to go there.
The bathroom is the only room I make an effort to make company presentable. I have tried lighting candles in there but someone always finds the light switch. And they close the door. So it is mandatory to clean the floor that is seen while sitting. I have been known to never see someone (guy) when the bathroom was disgusting. Let me make it clear: Mine is NEVER that bad. But for the uber fastidious, I do make an effort.
I digress. What is it that drives us (I know I am not the only one) to go nuts with the cleaning? Did our foremothers sweep out the cave when the neighboring tribe was coming to harvest berries? Were they nuts about making sure the twigs for kindling were all neatly put in the basket? Did they clean the basket first?
Deep down, I know no one cares if I cleaned off the lid of the trash can. And I still do it.
I know when I go to someone's home, it has to be pretty awful before I even notice.
Is there some psychology about our chromosomes and the perception of cleanliness?
The rest of the place is calling my name.

Blowing the myth: You are not alone

In the fall out of the suicide of Robin Williams, this phrase has been used over & over: You are not alone.

YES you are. You feel totally alone in that black hole of hopelessness. And your feeling is what counts.

You do have friends who care, they just don't know your pain because you are so good at hiding it. Unless they are very very astute, no one will just guess what you are suffering.

It is a must for us, as sufferers of depression, to let that wall down. Bring in your near & dear, your wise, your non-judgemental family and friends. Let them help you. Do Not deny that you need them. You do. Then, and only then will you not be alone.

Depression, The Hidden Menace or Losing Robin Williams

Once again, depression had very publicly reared it's ugly head. At the moment, it's all about the famous person. When the initial shock wears off, where will we be in our journey to understand mental illness? Our quest to take the stigma away? 

This is personal to me. For years, I hid it well. Didn't even know I was hiding it, because how could I have a mental illness? Shake it off, get your butt out of bed, go to work, make people laugh, laugh along with them. Then came the day I couldn't shake it off. There was no laughter, only tears. Fortunately, my daughter caught me mid-meltdown. By the end of the day, from far away, she had a list of places for me to turn to for help. Then a dear friend stopped in, saw the mess I was, made a phone call (to a place on that very list) and BOOM, I was in therapy. It's been 5 1/2 years and I am so grateful for all the help I have received from family and friends. Those dark dark days are few and far between now; I have learned a lot about how to deal and have no plans to stop my therapy or give up my medication.

So, now how do WE help other people climb out of that black hole?

WE acknowledge that Depression is an illness. 
WE don't ask to have it, much like no one asks to have cancer or shingles or arthritis or any other disease. WE stop acting as though it is shameful or fixable. 
WE acknowledge it can happen to any of us. 
WE stop shaming  or blaming sufferers.
WE educate ourselves, learn the signs, look beyond the false front and help that person get the professional help they need.

In my small way, I try to spread the word about this insidious disease. If you are in a pit of dark, hiding it, reach out - to me if you don't have anyone else. But To Someone. Soon.

It can be better. No one wants to lose YOU.

Day 30 Update on My Quest.

DAY 30 of Susan's Quest
This is not easy. It is not easy to watch what you eat and drink combined with having a life. My friends were so good at respecting my hiatus from adult beverages that I felt really lonely. Yes, I can drink my bubbly flavored water while enjoying the company of imbibing friends. Now that the Primary is over, I sincerely hope that Phoebe's Chat & Lounge is much busier.

Food for One is tough. It involves cooking. Which results in a messy kitchen and days of leftovers. All quick & handy 'food' is processed beyond reason, loaded with salt & MADE OF CARBS. The salad mixes from Costco are great. Love the Asian mix even more than the Parisian. Had high hopes for some frozen, pre-seasoned chicken. I will eat the rest (maybe guests will help?) but good grief the salt. So it's back to boneless, skinless chicken. There are some little ribs living in the freezer, picked up at Aldi's, that will be made yummy.

The Heat returned, wiping out my desire to walk vigorously. Even Phoebe is not happy in the sweaty heat. So there's been that. Regrouping finances after the brake job, so hopefully will have the $15 to join the rec center. Lovely treadmills in air conditioning.

Yes, I feel better. No exercise has me at a plateau in weight loss. Yes, the mid-riff bulge is really affected by libation intake. Yes, I will have an occasional beverage with friends and eat wonderful things in Limited Amounts (Sharing with Sharon works so well).


Please comment. Your support means so much to me. Thank you, love you ALL for taking the time to be part of this journey.

Stumbling around the blogosphere, feeling out of it.

Day two of my struggle to Blog. Tumblr was too much for me. I really really need my granddaughter to give me a good lesson.

Frustrated, I went to Google. Lo & behold, years ago I seem to have created a blog. The title is still apt.
So giving it a shot again. If this works, will write something coherent.https://www.facebook.com/susan.hilt