The Words I Couldn't Say

The words I couldn't say are mostly all of them. I long to open my mouth and have them flow freely like they used to; begin typing and the words pour from my fingers. How high do I have to be to get it to come back??

Dear Old Lady Client Who I Thought Was Sweet

Dear Old Lady Client Who I Thought Was Sweet,

I am sorry I took the time to be polite and use my "customer service skills". You were okay with being over income for food stamps. I thought that I would help get the verifications for the other Worker who had your Welfcare application. It was the "customer-service friendly" thing to do!
By that time the Front Desk had already taken your name and fingerprints (standard policy and all). It would have been done regardless of which Worker interviewed you for the Public Assistance Benefits.

I thought you were funny and you had some great stories to tell; you are 77 years old! You live in your car in the WalMart parking lot fercryingoutloud, I almost wanted to ask you home for dinner! It broke my heart that you were technically "over income" for food stamps. You knew it, you seemed okay with it, you asked me if one day I could help you use the computer to look for "unclaimed property". You shook my hand and thanked me, told me all of your questions had been answered and told me I was a "very sweet woman who obviously cared about people."

Then you repeatedly called my Supervisor to complain that your Civil Rights were being violated. No reason why, just that they had been severely violated. And when she didn't call you back in an hour (because she wasn't there that day) you called the Program Supervisor and complained that your Civil Rights and been violated. And she got her Boss involved. Only after a whole bunch of shit rolled downhill (guess who was on the bottom?) did you bother mentioning that your civil right that was violated??? That was when they fingerprinted you and then you didn't get food stamps, and how the application had the gall to ask you if you had used any previous names.

...

What?... Really?


Hiding something? My advice is don't apply for government assistance and then call the bigwigs at the State.

No love,
Brokemom the Welfare Worker

My Client Said To Me

To get welfare one must provide proof of immunizations for children or sign a waiver. Because I personally associate with friends/families that do not immunize their children, it is natural for me to be aware enough of personal choice to ask the young single mother client if she immunizes her children, rather then just assume. I would want someone to ask me.
Anyhow, I ask her.

She looks up at me with a confused look on her face and says, "Yeah, I'm not, like, organic or anything."

I Think They're Listening

Sometimes at night I go outside and tell my troubles to the trees.

Things I Can't Say At Work

Dear Client,

I do understand your urgent need for Cash Assistance. After all, babies cost money! Right? I know that Johny's in the slammer and your food stamps just aren't cutting it and the electric bill! Whoohoo! I totally get that. What I don't understand is why you keep having more children!? If you can't afford the ones you have why in heaven's name are ya having more??

Fer fuck's sake lady.

It's A Really Really Long Time

I've been employed at the Welfare Office for five years. I feel like a completely different person than the woman who started this blog. I was funnier. (No really, I was).

I was thinner and accessorized better. I was more naive and self-centered.

Different isn't always a bad thing. I still see the funny in things, it's just more subtle...or maybe I've learned to keep my mouth a little more shut.

I'm fatter than I was, but I actually like myself. I have no problem with my weight; it's my health I'd like to improve.

I have three of the world's best kids and a Husband who has faithfully attended Anger Management classes this past year of our separation in order to make it work. And I'm thinking of letting him come back, because I am still so completely and totally in love with him that it makes sense.

I have learned that I have a strength inside of me that I didn't know existed and it won't fail me. I've learned that many many things can be overcome by the power of Positive Thinking (not kidding. I weaned myself off of Prozac three months ago and am still fine).

I am good at my job (97%-100% accurate actually) and I still enjoy my job very much. I like helping people that need it. I love finding that gray area between the regulations and REAL LIFE (without breaking any rules) and straddling that line in order for REAL PEOPLE to get the help that, in my opinion, should be available to everyone who needs it.

Five years has gone by so very slooooooooowly. Thank goodness I cannot remember it all. But the things I can remember helped make me this awesome girl I am now. And part of that is never forgetting where I came from...Welfare Mommy. Welfare Worker.

Wipe Your Feet

I sit and think about love sometimes. What love is. How to define love. How love feels.

I sit and I think and I think and I think.

What if it's not "love"? What if I'm just a doormat?
A fine line, yes; who defines the line?

All By Myself

I have figured out that the moments I like best are the ones where I am alone; where it is just me. I can sit and think. Think think think about anything and everything. There are no phones to answer, no children to tend to. I got an hour and a half of Me Time just this evening.

I can think about work. I think about my drawers of cases, not just cases, but people with different lives and circumstances and problems that I enjoy helping. I love my job. I just got a raise!

I can think about my personal life, my emotional well-being. My wardrobe. I think about how I'm going to begin an MS treatment called Avonex. I will have to give myself a fricking shot every week. Yuck. But my eyesight is getting worse and my days of ignoring it are gone. Can you believe it, there were actually days and days where I didn't think about my MS at all? And then something would remind me and I'd almost startle, to have put it from my mind for such a time! Perhaps that helped me process the disease to myself...I was sad, I was angry. I was irritated and then chose a forgetful denial. I remain sad. Irritated. But I can't just pretend it doesn't exist any longer. Dammit.

I think about how I have given up fast food and sometimes all I want is a Jack In the Box breakfast sammich. MMMM. But I won't give in, nope.

The feeling of rejuvenation, the relaxation after I get said time to myself is the perfect beginning to another week. Ugh, which is tomorrow.

Don't Ask Me Why I'm Sitting In My Car In The Dark

The radio just played commercials for a tattoo shop and then a marijuana shop. I think that's awesome. Just the freedom of speech and progressiveness of our generation and blah blah blah.