Acceptance and Nonjudgment

   Something I still see people have an issue with is accepting others without a million judgments. People want to control how people dress, talk, act, and what they teach to others. This is unfair to the people being judged, as it takes away from their individuality and replaces it with self-doubt. And yet, these same people want the freedom of choosing their own actions, words, and education without being judged or controlled.

Hippocracy at it's finest. However, many people who do this, don't even realize the cause and effect that they create. They believe they're trying to defend others, or right the world, or tear away what they believe are untruths.

And sometimes they kick the hornet's nest.

I want to personally add a couple of thoughts on my introduction to disbelieve vs. acceptance. I have a hard time believing in possession. I don't really believe in the devil. I feel like more often than not, people associate demons with things they don't have anything to do with. I don't really feel like angels are a thing... maybe.

Now take that last paragraph and link it to the next one and think really hard on it.

I accept all people who work with demons, angels, possession, and more. I even accept people who believe they are "powerful wizards from a long line of wizards who can bring down mountains."
Yes, that's been a thing a few times. I've smiled and nodded and told these people I have no idea how to guide them. I did not turn them away. i accepted them and let them know I was not on their level. and then I let them be.

It is not my job to choose their path. It is not my job to tell them what to believe. 

So, therefore, I do not have to criticize people who believe in things I don't understand or have faith in. One of my friends deals with possessions. A few friends of mine, AT LEAST, deal with demons. And at least one is a necro. And I still love them. Because they are amazing, friendly, and wonderful people. I set aside their beliefs and I love them for who they are.

The world needs more of this.

What I am really trying to say, what I want people to openly take from this is, let people be who they are. They might still be amazing, even if you don't understand their path.

I love so many of you, and my heart doesn't ever stop growing to fill all the new people I keep meeting. So please find it within yourselves to allow others to grow without the little dark stickers of doubt and judgment you stick on them. We need to become the best versions of ourselves, which is made all the more difficult with pressure and negativity from out peers.

For those who read this post to the end, thank you and I hope you gained much insight from these words. I'm open to any and all conversations on the subject, as long as you stay away from toxic comments and negative criticism. That said, I'm open to positive criticism and opposing opinions for my own self-reflection.

Sincerely,
Nymph.

Adulthood At Last

   I finally reached adulthood. I work at a job I hate, just to scratch a few dollars together. There is no pride in a job like this. It's just too many things and too little time. Work, work, work. Clean up, wrap up, body aches, go home. We close up long after our official closing time, because I'm just not that fast. And I know they're disappointed. Every... single... day.

   My own life is equally unpleasant. Most of the time, my friends are so busy living their lives, they forget I'm still here, missing them. Missing positive social time. I'd love to go for coffee and drinks, but over the last several years, I can't even get a handful of friends to visit for my birthday. So, sometimes I ask. Usually I don't. They're just too busy to make the trip.

   Adulthood is about being tired, depressed, and over-all just hating every single day of your life. I worked really, really hard to stay upbeat and positive, and not let life get me down. I refused to grow up. I was youthful, playful, and silly. I don't even have time anymore to play online, and be silly there. All I do is work now. And I still don't have a car. All this work, and it's nowhere near enough to be able to truly live. I literally can't even obtain 2 jobs.

This is adulthood.

Soul Vs. Goal

Soul Vs. Goal

In this world, money is everything, and you need a car to make it really happen. But at what cost? What will you give up to realize your dreams, or even to make a little extra cash and open new opportunities for you?

I recently had started a job that would mean $300/week and help shopping for my first car. I'm 36 years old and my job experience is that of a teenager, so naturally, this seemed like a deal that was too good to be true.

And it was.

A week in, I don't even want to work anymore. Every day, I go to this lady's house in a car that smells of rot and sweat and too much heat. I arrive at this very large house with a long drive and a turnaround near the steps. The very much worn and broken steps that are in severe need of repair. The porch is littered with old, rusted art and empty pots, some pots filled with the dead and the dying.

And thus my experience begins:
I approach the front door and enter the house. The door struggles to properly close. The house is too warm. There is a closet before me without a door. There are mops and brooms, and other things inside but I can't get to them because of a large, headless statue and a divider.

Most of the time I fold clothes. She is happy. I occasionally do other chores as well. But I'm always too warm, I never know where anything goes, and I don't have any idea where any tools are in which I might use to make the work more efficient. But I do the best that I can.

The energy in the house is oppressive and stifling. I feel muted. I feel small. It's a very uncomfortable energy which makes my own alignment sick and I feel ill after each day of work. Not a physical ill, but more an energy ill, like as if someone has poisoned my energy well.

I finish my job each day, and wait for the car to come, so I can climb back into the oppressive heat and... that smell. Oh gods that smell. I'm surprised it never made me retch. I go to my main job to work 4 hours, and for most of that shift, I am aware that that smell is still on my clothes, my skin....

I am tired all afternoon, after that morning job. It drains so much energy. It makes my body and my mind tired. Even the boss at my main job sees how it affects me. I cannot help it. Poisoned energy really affects every other part of the body.

I go home, exhausted after a way too long day. I play mindless games until I can sleep. I still sometimes catch a whiff of that smell. I sleep. I wake up the next day and I do it again. I wait outside my building for the car, the oppressive heat. The smell.

The last day I worked for her, I was late for my other job. I got talked to twice about it. I hated it. I'd reminded her several times that morning that I had to work later. I was not happy, my main-job boss was not happy, and after I spoke with her about it, she was not happy.

After, she took much of my attention away from other customers at my main job (mind you, I was off the clock, in terms of working for her) to ask multiple questions and request my help with things which I wasn't needed. But my choice was to be rude, or to help. Finally, she bought a couple of flowers and left. I sighed my relief.

I worked my shift, eating some pizza my manager had left on the counter, and drinking a water I'd grabbed out of the storage room. The first of both I'd had since breakfast. (I ate at 9am, and this was at 4pm.) I went home, after getting a LOT of work done on the lot, and rested in the kitchen while I heated some more food. I hadn't eaten much at work.

Before I was finished fixing my physical state, I got a text from the lady, saying that I didn't do the job I'd worked so hard on that day. There were pictures. The work looked properly done, except the one piece I couldn't complete because of lack of proper tools.  That was the last straw. After all she'd put me through that day I couldn't take this with grace. I was done selling pieces of my soul for a promise of wealth and transportation.

I was never that kind of girl anyway.
I won't sacrifice my self for money and a car.

P.S. When I think back on this experience, I sometimes think I still smell that smell.

Free Healthcare and the Homeless

   Free Healthcare and the Homeless
I want to talk to you about what free healthcare would mean for the homeless. And I want to use my experience to explain it, because having a bacterial infection really taught me the value of having access to free healthcare. Some of you would frown on me using my sickness to push my agenda, but then you have to consider that my agenda is to see all people happy and healthy. I want all decent people to do well. I don't like seeing people suffer. This is my agenda.

So here's my story:
   It's been a long few days, and the heat has been unbearable. It gets a little colder at night, though not by much, and I'd been leaving the door open to try to stay somewhat cool while I slept. I'd still often wake up way too hot the next day and having to drink a lot of liquid to cool myself down.

   One night, I was feeling grateful, because the air turned very cold, and I was glad for the sudden chill to cool me off. I slept soundly and woke up refreshed and cool. Unfortunately I had a sore throat. I cursed my luck and tried to keep healthy, trying to thwart off my "cold" symptoms. Little did I know, this was more than a cold.

   I spent sometime around 2 weeks, sleeping fitfully during the day and night at odd hours, my nose running nonstop, my throat growing more painful and swollen each day. At first I could only eat soft foods, but I could still drink all the water I needed.And then I couldn't eat. And the only thing I could drink was apple juice. I had a cough and my asthma blew up more times than I could say. I felt that I would go mad with sickness and pain.

  When the time came where I hadn't eaten anything for 2 days except half of a pudding cup, and I could no longer drink because my throat had gotten so sore and swollen, I decided it was time for a check-up. I called a friend and had him take me to the doctor. They tested me for strep and mono, which both came back negative. What they did discover was a bacterial infection... which I had thought was a REALLY bad cold. I got my prescriptions, waited impatiently as they got filled, and got home.

   I swallowed the pills down immediately, though they made me gag and the pain made tears come to my eyes. They didn't go down easy. It took half a dozen swallows to get those suckers down. Then I forced what I could of more pudding. It was the worst feeling, trying to force delicious food through pain. I managed to do what I needed and then went to the couch and promptly passed out.

   Today is only a day later. My throat is no longer swollen and my nose is trying, slowly to heal up. Ad I thought this was just a bad cold. I'm so grateful that the medicine worked so fast. It reminded me of parents who tell their kids, "Don't leave the window open all night. You'll catch your death of cold." For me, it nearly did.

"That's great," You say, "But what does any of this have to do with homeless people and free healthcare?" Well, after going through what I went through, this is how I began to think about it. I had the choice to shut my window. Homeless people don't get that choice.

   Homeless people have to deal with all day heat and all night cold. And the effects that has on the body are numerous, and sometimes deadly. I used to get confused if I saw a young homeless person found dead on the streets. But imagine this:

   Imagine a 17 year old boy, let's say he ran away from an abusive home, and decided to make his own way. He ends up on the streets, never having been homeless before. He begs for food all day and sleeps in alleys and hidden places at night. This isn't the life he'd hoped for but he figured if he tried hard enough, he could still get somewhere on his own.

   The year is approaching fall, and the boy's clothes have gotten old and dirty. He's still begging for food and sleeping outside. He's forgotten his purpose in his need to live. One night, after a few excruciatingly hot days where he was badly sunburned from begging in the daytime, he curls up in his box, which holds a few meager possessions he got over his time on the streets, and he tries  to sleep, past the pain and the heat in his body. He cries because of his fate, exchanging one abusive life for another. And yet, he knows he cannot go home, or he would be beaten all over again.

   The air grows cool, and the boy passes out from exhaustion. But it gets colder and colder outside. The boy begins to shiver. He doesn't have enough blankets to keep warm in that chill. He adds his spare sweater onto his clothes, but still he's just so cold. He can't go inside because nothing will be open at this hour. So he tries to wait out the night, the cold seeping to his bones.

   A few days later, the boy is begging for money, for medicine. He can't get healthcare because he doesn't have an address. But he's hoping cough medicine will make him better. He doesn't get much money that day. People have heard of addicts using cough medicine for a high. They don't believe him. He uses what he has that night to buy a meal.

   Next day, he tries again. He's looking pretty sick, and coughing. He makes almost nothing. People don't go near him, they don't want his illness. The avoid him like he has the plague. There's not enough for food. He goes to bed that night hungry.

   The following day, the boy can't get up. He's so sick, he's got no energy, and the lack of food and drink made his sickness worse. He could go to the emergency room but they insisted he had to pay his dues before he could be seen again. He didn't make that much money. He stays in his box, trying to stay warm as the fevers take him. In a few days, a couple homeless guys who knew him start looking for him. He died from his sickness because he couldn't get treated.

The Meat of the Story:
   The point behind the scenario I wrote, as dark, and sad as it may be, is that it's real. And it happens to homeless people everyday. Not all are young, or running away from something. But homeless die all the time from easily treatable causes like flu or diabetes or other things most of us don't consider to be difficult to treat. We take our health for granted. We don't consider that some can't.

   If any homeless person had gotten the same bug that I had these past 2 weeks, it would likely have killed the person, because without proper medicine, it only gets worse until it's too late. This is why having free healthcare available to all is so important. Without access to health, homeless lives are just ticking down to the first time they get sick. And in the life they have to live, that's pretty easy to do.

  If you've read down to this part, I want to let you know I appreciate your interest, and your concern is warming to me. I think about the homeless population quite frequently. I used to be among them. That life is harder than most people can stand, and homeless numbers are rising everyday, with the struggle for jobs that can cover means, and the government's lack of interest to fix any of the core issues involving struggling singles and families.