Category: Alcoholism

Abuse, Alcoholism, Animal Rights, Animals, Environment, Faith, Frugality, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, Minimalism, Organic, Spirituality, Writing, Zero Waste

Connecting Alcoholism with Homesteading

Lisa Burbank

Homesteading. The phrase conjures up images of “clean” living: home-grown organic fruits, vegetables and herbs; hand-spun yarns and woven fabrics; beekeeping; permaculture gardens; wildlife habitats; green energies; zero waste; compost–the list is endless but, again, it typically equals “clean” in most people’s minds. Alcoholism–or any kind of addiction, really–typically conjures up that stereotypical waif with the rheumy eyes living in a doorway. What our society doesn’t see is the priest/clergy, the school teacher, the lonely old woman, the star athlete, the average Joe working the deli counter in the supermarket. In short, it is an insidious disease that affects millions of people, either directly or indirectly–people who still manage to lead productive lives, who still manage to make meaningful contributions to their community. My paternal grandfather was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize while being an active alcoholic; not exactly the rheumy-eyed waif. There’s no cookie cutter definition or description.

That’s actually true for homesteading, too. I’ve read numerous newspaper and magazine articles that typically define it as simply growing your own food yet they miss the myriad goals of reducing one’s carbon footprint; the utilization of antiquated farming methods; raising animals for fiber, as well as eggs, dairy and, in many cases, meat. As a pescetarian, my homestead will never be used for raising meat and that actually raises some eyebrows because of the goats, chickens and ducks that grace the land. To me, the dairy, eggs, pest-control (chickens love bugs; slugs are duck delicacies), and rich, free fertilizer are enough.

As for alcoholism, I’m in the latter category with being indirectly affected by alcoholism. Though I enjoy a glass of mead on rare occasions, maybe a glass of wine at a toast, or, on even rarer occasions, a shot of Sambucca, overall, I’m pretty much a teetotaler. I can sit with friends who are enjoying a glass or two of Guinness or an Irish coffee after dinner and not be nervous or uncomfortable, while sipping a glass of pineapple juice or a cup of Salada tea. But as soon as the blurry-eyed stare, the loud voices, etc. rise to the occasion, I’d rather be anywhere else but. Too many frightening memories get triggered.

Growing up, the violent temper tantrums were only part of the picture. Dinner came out of a box labeled Rice-a-Roni, Noodle Roni, or Hamburger Helper; in leaner times, it was white gravy on toast (gravy made with flour, water and a little bacon grease). Dinner was often paid for with food stamps after a touching story was given that the step-father had left us high and dry. He hadn’t; he had simply lost another job due to too much time missed. Shut-off notices and bill collectors knocking on the door to which we pretended we weren’t home were part of the picture; name changes to the accounts often followed as if a new tenant had moved in–once, the electric bill was even in my name though I was only 13 or 14. Winters were always toughest. When we could get heating assistance, it was a little better. And one apartment actually had a working fireplace + a separate chimney that we were able to install a woodstove; a neighbor allowed the use of an old garage for storing wood. When my step-father was working, things were also better. But poor money management meant they didn’t stay that way. A steady paycheck meant we shopped every weekend for more “stuff” we really didn’t need. We treated every kid in the neighborhood to a trip to the zoo, an ice cream cone when the truck came down our street, or the amusement park. In many ways, as a kid, these aspects were fun and I encouraged these rare treats; I was suddenly a popular kid. I didn’t realize it for the poor management it was until many years later. And, of course, there was always money spent on beer. All of it would’ve been better spent in saving for leaner times or getting out of debt. We moved a lot. Beloved pets were disposable at the local pound, as were the endless litters of puppies and kittens because spaying and neutering was either too expensive or we could “always” find homes for them so why bother(??!?); cherished possessions were tossed or left behind for someone else to clean out–if they didn’t get destroyed during one of those temper tantrums. Beloved pets sometimes went hungry during the leaner times and were abused along with their humans when the temper tantrums started. The sound of a pop-top opening still sends me into shivers.

As a kid, I was always eligible for free lunches at school. In high school, we actually had a salad bar and I frequented it as my body craved the vitamins and minerals these fresh foods provided. I confess to often feeling guilty as I enjoyed these salads because I knew everyone at home was living on something much poorer. We often received baskets of food from local charities but it was almost always more of the same–packaged, processed foods because they retain a longer shelf life. This poor diet, as well as the stress that went with it, has led to some digestive health issues: Irritable Bowel Syndrome, gluten-sensitivity, lactose-intolerance and, in more recent years, some acid reflux. In learning about these health conditions, I’ve also learned how important a healthy, balanced diet really is. I’ve learned about food additives like High Fructose Corn Syrup and Monosodium Glutamate and how really bad they are for the body; the former being a leading culprit in the development of IBS. I learned about artificial sweeteners like Sweet N Low, which is saccharine and a leading carcinogen; Equal, which is aspartame and has its own health issues; Splenda, a by-product of the pesticide industry. In short, I learned the difference between organic foods that are grown without the use of chemical pesticides/herbicides, without any Genetically Modified Organisms (GMO’s) vs. the Franken foods that dominate most supermarket shelves. The desire to grow my own food, for homesteading, was born.

Of course, once you get started down that road to homesteading, if the itch takes hold, food production is only part of the picture. Yes, growing that food in a manner that conserves water, builds up the soil and maximizes space is a major part; canning and preserving, making everything from scratch, making one’s own bread and condiments. From there, as an herbalist, I’ve branched off into making my own medicines, health and beauty products, and even some natural cleaners. Because of all those lean years, there is also a deep desire to become more self-sufficient, to not be dependent upon the grid, to minimize the cost of living as much as possible while also taking better care of the planet. Because of the neglectful animal care, the desire to implement more humane practices–well, this is at the heart of it all because I owe it to the memories of so many pets to make sure current and future generations don’t suffer similar fates. Spaying and neutering, regular check-ups, adopting rather than breeding, and simply seeing these animals as the living, sentient beings they are complete the homesteading package. In many ways, homesteading has been the vehicle for curing the hurt and the ills created by that alcoholic upbringing. With each new skill, with each new and positive practice, with the care that goes into a homestead, my confidence and self-esteem rises. Therein lies the link.

When I started this blog, I was determined that it would only be about homesteading endeavors. Many false starts, and years of dormancy, led me to simply start writing whatever came to mind–even if it didn’t have much to do with homesteading at all. I’m finally finding my voice and the direction I’d like to take it. And, oftentimes, as I write, I find that blogging has become a sort of therapy. It is a hope that, by sharing my own experiences with alcoholism–and abuse–that I might help others to heal; knowing you’re not alone can be the most liberating experience. I have considered creating a separate blog, one that deals only with the alcoholism and abuse, and leaving this one to homesteading, animal stories, and faith-based postings but they are all part of the same world and I fear I might neglect one over the other. Besides, homesteading brings about its own liberation.

As I read back over this post, and realize where I’ve been, and how far I’ve come in life, suddenly the over-grown yard; the fact that this homestead has a long way to go before becoming a “working” homestead; the fixer-upper status; the less-than-perfect conditions that I often bemoan or shy away from fall away. Both homesteading and recovery from addiction/the affects and/or abuse from someone else’s addictions are journeys. You’re never quite done; there’s always room for improvement, always room for more growth. And as I plant those seeds for more growth, I also plant a few seeds of faith because, above all else, homesteading and recovery need a daily dose of that.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Alcoholism, Faith, Gratitude

Technical Difficulties

Lisa Burbank

This morning I finished my yoga practice and jumped in the chair behind the PC, intent on adding a new blog post. Lo and behold, Hewlett-Packard had different ideas. My PC was midway into a major update from Windows 8 to Windows 10 (not sure what happened to Windows 9…) so I sat here reading a booklet that I found while organizing the office last week that deals with being more assertive. There’s no cover page so I don’t know the actual title or author but it was an interesting read while I munched a couple of slices of whole grain toast slathered with peanut butter. (What 20 lbs. by Nov. 20th???)

One thing that stuck out for me was a passage that read: “Some [people] are unconcerned whether you agree with them and share their views. Others are rabid in demanding that you fall in line with them. They feel that they know best and this gives them the authority to tell everyone what they should be doing and saying. It is their way or the highway.” (Anonymous) I think we all know a few people with this mindset; having been afflicted by alcoholism and abuse as a child, I, too, can get on my high horse about certain subjects. It is learned behavior. And this is where that Al-Anon slogan of “Live and Let Live” comes into play. I don’t have all the answers and neither does anyone else; we can only do the best we can with what we have…and allow others the same courtesy. However, this is where the term “boundaries” comes into play…and the need to assert those boundaries.

The booklet goes on to talk about how women, especially (though not confined to women; just more common), tend to be people-pleasers. Old-fashioned values passed down from previous generations instill in us a belief that standing up for ourselves is unladylike, unfeminine. And then we wonder why we keep finding the same situations over and again: being over-whelmed by too many responsibilities/social engagements or commitments; being passed over for better job positions, or lower pay scales; or finding the same abusive and/or controlling partners ad nauseum.

Some of this is simply that innate desire to be loved and accepted. We want to fit in so we say “yes” to every request made of us; we give in to keep the peace; we give–because it is better than receiving, or so we are told–and we give and we give until, like that old children’s story about the giving tree, there is nothing left to give…except maybe the built-up resentment and anger that stifling our own needs–and even our core values–has developed. In seeking to please others and neglecting our own needs, we actually give others an unspoken permission to treat us as doormats; to ridicule us; to continue to assert their “control” over us. In short, we allow unacceptable behavior. And, as a result of this tolerance of unacceptable behavior, that anger and resentment eventually spills over until we resort to some unacceptable behavior of our own.

Boundaries. This one is a tough one for me. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Frequent, violent arguments often made sleep impossible and left a little girl quaking in her shoes. The one time I remember standing up for myself was when I was around 17. It was over a chair that my stepfather had picked up at a yard sale to replace the old rocking chair my mother had reupholstered for me years before. The rocking chair went hurtling across the floor and Mom barely managed to stop the incessant stomping that would have reduced it to smithereens in another moment. My assertion was simply to suggest couldn’t we put the new chair in the living room instead of my room (which was only, roughly, 10 x 8)? Today, I can understand that this was not an unreasonable request but, the reaction to that request, set a precedent that my feelings, thoughts, opinions had no value and, in fact, asserting myself might bring about some serious consequences. This is a little extreme but even those from unbroken homes often struggle with asserting themselves. What good is it to establish healthy boundaries if you don’t maintain them? Saying “no” is not a bad thing. It doesn’t necessarily mean “never”, just “not right now”. Or it means I find this behavior unacceptable and I’m not going to tolerate it anymore. Setting boundaries, and asserting yourself to maintain those boundaries, says that your time, your money, your health and well-being are all valuable and important–as is the time/money/health, etc. of others. Setting boundaries is not the same as building walls; setting boundaries doesn’t shut everyone out–and isolate you in; they simply provide guidelines for protecting yourself. Boundaries are a way of saying “No” with love rather than the hostility that characterizes aggression. Aggression builds walls. Aggression threatens and tries to manipulate others. Boundaries protect you from that aggression.

After over 20 years of therapy, I am learning–finally–to set some boundaries and also, to assert myself in maintaining those boundaries. I’m also learning that sometimes the people closest to you do not like this sudden change from the church mouse mentality to, well, not exactly the lion ready to roar, but at least the cat who stoically goes their own way regardless. I have a mind of my own. And, while I strive to respect the feelings and views of others, I am also striving to have my own feelings and views respected–even if those views are not shared. I recently had someone give me an ultimatum because I did not share their views about something. Ultimatums are unfair under almost any circumstance–unless you’re a soldier or police officer giving someone the ultimatum to come out with their hands up. For once, I stood up to this unacceptable behavior because to give in to it would go against some pretty solid principles. I did my best to maintain calm and simply stated my feelings, and that I was not going to conform to what they expected me to do. It didn’t go over well but I expected it. It hurts. Talk about reinforcing some negative, learned behavior but I also know that my standing up to this negativity is much healthier than any conformity to another’s expectations. Though it hurts, in some ways, taking that stand has also been liberating. The outcome of my being assertive may not have been the one I was hoping for, the intent misunderstood, but I realized my own worth. The little girl is no longer quaking in her shoes.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Alcoholism, Animals, Creativity, Faith, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, Nature, Organic, Religion, Spirituality, Writing

Is it Wasted Time or Time Well-Spent?

Lisa Burbank

I have spent the better part of this morning searching through a directory of towns in Maine for a list of towns with the least amount of population. I’m looking for unorganized townships with less than 500 people. Next, will be to research their locations. If I decide to relocate, I would prefer being near the ocean. Not necessarily a waterfront property; they tend to be grossly over-priced, but I would like to be within shouting distance of the ocean…or a lake. Somewhere that I can plunk a canoe down in the water and paddle away. Is that possible with goats in tow (not in the canoe but farming in a coastal region)? Or are coastal towns all zoned into tourist trap submission? These are things I am hoping to find out. The mingled scents of clean farm animals and salty sea air would be the sweetest perfumes. And the cry of a gull amidst a chorus of bleats and neighs and cock-a-doodle-doo, the sweetest of songs. This will be my paradise here on earth. If I can find it. And if I can afford it when I do.

As I type this I am also thinking of all the improvements I’d like to make here on this little one-acre homestead in northeastern Connecticut. Being influenced by the folks at Path to Freedom (please Google for more information) in knowing that it is possible to have a sustainable homestead on a smaller piece of land–i.e. quoting Jules Dervaes in their excellent film, “Homegrown Revolution”, I decided years ago to “start with what I have”. But I worry about things like carbon monoxide from Route 6 settling on my herbs and vegetables, and the increased development of this Quiet Corner town. It’s becoming too commercial and yet the job market is scarce, public transport is so poorly planned as to be almost non-existent, and, despite being on this main Interstate, I feel like an island unto myself anyway. There is little by way of a “community” feeling.

Of course, I do little to encourage that community feeling. My yard is always overgrown. When someone knocks at the door, I seldom answer–unless I’m expecting someone. And I walk around with the feeling that I’m sitting in a fish bowl. The Thujas bordering the front of the house offer a great privacy screen but it is not enough; I’m that eternal hermit-in-the-woods. Not exactly the most encouraging attitude for an ordained minister but I crave solitude like the flowers crave sun and rain. It’s one of the reasons I’ve had such a difficult time adjusting to having a roommate–even though that roommate is Mom.

Whine, whine, whine…

Or maybe that should be wine, wine, WINE!

No, I seldom partake of the latter. Having felt the effects of alcoholism many times as a child–from watching a beloved grandfather vomiting blood each morning, and losing him all too early, to a stepfather’s drunken rampages and pedophilia–I’ll take the fruit of the vine in the form of some organic grape juice instead. (Albeit, I wouldn’t say, “No!” to a wee drop of mead though…)

As for the whining? The best remedy is gratitude. No, I am not where I really want to be. And I am feeling the shifts everywhere in my life right now, shifts that say change is coming and it is time to move on, move forward, get out of this rut that I’ve been “stuck” in for the last several years. Despite my hermit-in-the-woods mentality–which is another side effect of having grown up with alcoholism–I do desire that sense of community, that sense of connection with others. But I also want that oasis in the middle of it all, that place of quiet retreat where I can recharge my batteries–literally and figuratively speaking. We all need that.

So, as I draw a ragged deep breath and prepare to send Wendy Whiner on her way again, I make a short list of all of things I am grateful for right here and now:

I am grateful for the air I breathe, the water I drink, a roof overhead, the food on my plate and the clothes on my back.
I am grateful for my roommate, my Mom; grateful that I am fortunate enough to still have my Mom with me.
I am grateful for family and friends, my community of loved ones–whether they live in this Quiet Corner or not.
I am grateful for all of the myriad animals that share this home with me–both domestic and wild.
I am grateful for the gifts from God of being able to write, sing, play music, paint, draw, create and homestead.
I am grateful for my job, for being employed, and for the wonderful co-workers who share that part of my week with me.
I am grateful for my garden, for the herbs, fruits and vegetables growing there.

And I am grateful, most of all, for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who died for my sins and gave me everlasting life.

Now what the heck was I whining about?

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

“Homegrown Revolution Quotes.” Quotes.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2016. Web. 22 Sep. 2016 .

Abuse, Alcoholism, Faith, Religion, Spirituality

Letting It Go…to God

Lisa Burbank

I am distracted. And struggling not to be. Yes, it is 6:14 in the morning. Yoga, meditation, affirmations, some fictional writing and journaling have already been attended to but I’m losing focus. It makes me realize just how much time is truly wasted with drama.

Mom hit me with some family drama the moment I came in the door from work last night. We had a lovely day Saturday celebrating my Uncle Ernie’s birthday at his home on the lake. We chatted with family and friends, did some catching up here and there. I spent some time on the water, boating, with my Aunt Sharon and Cousin Jenny. And then we came home. Though lies, petty jealousies and childish attitudes have caused some recent splintering in this already fragile dynamic, there was little evidence of this at the cookout. Albeit, fewer faces of loved ones shared the day with us–and they were missed–but everyone in attendance mingled amiably, ate a lot of good food (so much for my 20 lbs by Nov. 20th…), and the gossip and drama appeared to be non-existent. Until yesterday. Apparently, one of my cousins seems bent on keeping the feuds going, posting some rather hurtful remarks on Facebook. I’m not sure why. And I’m not sure I want to know why anyone would get their rocks off of hurting their own flesh and blood; that sort of meanness is just something I can’t wrap my mind around. And, again, I don’t want to. Abuse, no matter what form it takes, is unacceptable.

Of course, this is all hearsay; Mom may have edited a bit to try to keep peace, as I know how deeply hurt she was when the family splintered apart after my grandmother’s passing in 1990. I usually avoid the ongoing dramas…especially on Facebook, where everyone suddenly finds the courage to say things to others they would never have the courage to say face-to-face. While I love many things about the Internet and social media, the use of it as a tool for hurting others is one facet of it I don’t like.

I’m Switzerland. I don’t see “sides”. There is no one member better than I am (or each other) nor do I consider myself better than anyone else; we are all the same in His eyes–and in mine. And there are more important things to worry about than he said/she said. My maternal grandparents had 11 children, 8 of whom are still with us. And, while we may often resemble the Hatfields and McCoys, there isn’t a single member of this family that I don’t love deeply. I may not always like the way they act, but I love them anyway. And yet, becoming that proverbial hermit-in-the-woods is pretty appealing at this point. There are times when I get so frustrated with everyone, it’s all I can do to keep from wanting to sit each family member in a separate corner for timeout so they can get their foolishness under control. This is not at all the way my grandmother raised them to be and yet they continue to dishonor her memory by creating these “sides”. My grandmother’s grave has weeds growing on it. There is an old wives’ tale that this is a sign the person is not resting in peace. I can’t imagine why…

I also can’t imagine that this is God’s plan for this family, that we should fight and bicker and throw hurtful comments back and forth. Yes, I know the old kiddie refrain of “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” That’s not entirely true. Words cut into the soul; sticks and stones only hurt the flesh.

Sitting back and observing, as only a writer can, it seems as this family tries to get back together–or, if we must put this in past-tense–when the family was trying to get back together, various members came back expecting others to have changed, to be different people than the ones they shied away from before. Yes, people can change. But I am reminded of something in my Al-Anon daily reader, “Courage to Change”, about how we expect others to act the way we want them to and then get angry with them when they act on their own. I’m paraphrasing but it is by-product of alcoholism, wanting to control each other, and having unrealistic expectations. No, neither grandparent was an alcoholic (nor, to my knowledge, is any aunt, uncle or cousin) but both great-grandfathers had a reputation for alcoholism. A. It can skip a generation and B. the coping behaviors learned by one generation often get handed down to another because there’s been no one teaching them a better, more respectful way of treating one another–and ourselves. As one of my best friend’s mother phrased it, “You can only work with the tools you’ve been given.” Yes, there are deeper issues behind the family feuds, but alcoholism lies at the root–the root that prevents the type of communication needed for healing to begin. (Denial is another symptom of alcoholism…)

I grew up in an active alcoholic home. My step-father drank heavily and was a violent man when he drank; he fit most of the stereotypical images of the flaming alcoholic. But alcoholism is often more subtle than that. Growing up with active alcoholism, you learn to keep your thoughts and your feelings to yourself. You don’t want to trigger another temper tantrum in the alcoholic nor do you want to be ridiculed or told you’re stupid for your views. This lack of communication, if left alone, often gets perpetuated through the next generation in a family. How can it not if speaking your mind brought on a string of repercussions? The only difference is, that because there is no visible, active alcoholism in the home in this next generation, it is easy to deny the effects, to be unable to recognize them for what they are. Lying, poking one’s nose in everyone else’s affairs, refusing to take responsibility for one’s actions, placing blame, denial, being overly sensitive, sarcasm, lack of trust, low self-esteem and blowing everything out of proportion are all side effects of alcoholism. There’s a reason why both AA and Al-Anon ask us to admit that our lives have become “unmanageable”; they have. How can this sort of behavior be manageable? And, as I type this, I think of how there is a small part of me that is still feeling the effects of my own alcoholic upbringing: I so want to call that “timeout” I mentioned earlier and “force” everyone to get along, but that would only do more harm than good. And that is not my right. So I leave it in the hands of the only One who can heal it, heal each individual, and lead them either closer together, by making all feel welcome and appreciated as is…or allowing those who have been perpetually wounded too deeply to go their own way so that no further abuse or ostracism can be meted out upon them.

Acceptance is where the healing begins. Acceptance that sometimes families are just not capable of being like The Waltons or The Brady Bunch; that is fiction and, while we love it, we cannot write the script or direct the actions of all the players when it comes to real life. Sometimes, though we share blood, we speak totally different languages. And that’s okay…as long as those different languages aren’t used to hurt and abuse each other. When the abuse exists, there’s every right to step away.

Forgiveness is the other starting point. Forgiveness isn’t about condoning another’s conduct. And it doesn’t mean you have to go back into the hornet’s nest and endure more pain and abuse; “family” is who you choose to care for, and that may not necessarily mean “blood”. Forgiveness is about the person, not the act. And forgiveness is for yourself, for your own soul. Matthew 6:14: “Your heavenly Father will forgive you if you forgive those who sin against you; but if you refuse to forgive them, he will not forgive you.” (The Living Bible)

I don’t know where He is leading this family. Again, I am Switzerland. Nobody has the right to bully another, whether by making them feel uncomfortable, placing words in another’s mouth, or by threatening to withhold their love and friendship for associating with “the other side”; there are no sides. And I had enough of walking on eggshells as a child. I am a child of God as is everyone else on this planet, whatever you perceive Him/Her to be. God did not create us to be perfect. He asks only that we love Him with all of our hearts, minds, souls, and bodies; and that we love our neighbors as ourselves. If everyone in this family can remember that, maybe we’ve still got a fighting chance…no pun intended.

May God bless you & keep you!

Alcoholism, Environment, Faith, Frugality, Gratitude, Homesteading, Minimalism, Nature, Zero Waste

Tightwad Tuesday

Lisa Burbank

I think I created a post a couple of years back about frugality but it bears repeating. We live in a culture where everything bigger, or more of something, is better. It is natural to want more in life. But when so many people are in debt up to their ears because they have far too many credit cards; they allowed that real estate agent to up-sale them into a house they couldn’t afford or, I cringe as I type this as I work for a car dealership, but up-sales are a part of that world, too. As their photographer, I spend a good part of the afternoon driving around the parking lot in brand new cars–I don’t even own a car right now! So put me in the seat of that Silverado High Country–and, believe me, “my” dealership has some sweet trucks in their lot right now–and I’m practically salivating…and this summer’s 90+ temperatures have nothing to do with it. However, I’m already eating a lot of pasta and beans, and PB&J for lunch; I refuse to take the Crazy Cat Lady a step further and start dining with the felines as, sadly, many do. And no, that real estate agent or salesperson isn’t inherently evil in trying to up-sale you a higher-priced item. A bigger sale means a bigger commission and they have to eat, too. Without those commissions, they’re barely scraping minimum wage. But keeping your head instead of letting emotion drive your decisions is a discipline worth learning. The salesperson will still earn a commission on the item you can afford but you won’t be re-mortgaging or filing bankruptcy later on. Take it from one who knows: debt hurts.

Years ago, a gentleman that I was dating made a good point about something. He was incredibly frugal about his necessary living expenses: housing, food, utilities and yet he indulged in extravagances. But, as he pointed out, because he conserved so well on the essentials–and he didn’t starve or freeze during the winter months; quite the contrary, he had updated his home to be super energy efficient and so it stayed toasty warm all season–he could afford a few luxuries. He could indulge in many of his interests. And so, he actually lived a bit better than most because he was careful with his expenses and, when he made an investment, he did so with the future in mind. He also tithed regularly, had a healthy retirement fund and a savings. These last three are key. Without some sort of savings, you automatically have to go into debt when something breaks or needs replacing. Without a retirement or 401K, what will you do when you grow too old and infirm to work 40+ hours a week? And He only asks for a tithe = 10%; you get to keep 90%.

Of course, Super Tightwad here–and, no, that doesn’t equal “cheap”; your birthday gift may have been purchased on sale but it didn’t come out of the gumball machine–weighs everything. Whether it is a necessity or an indulgence, I carefully weigh it. I’ve been known to take field trips to the supermarket to price all of the fixings for a veggie burger at Burger King (i.e. condiments, lettuce, tomato, etc) vs. one made at home with all of the trim; the cost was nearly doubled. When you realize what you’re really spending, how convenient is it? I know I’ve posted before that Amy Dacyczyn’s “Tightwad Gazette” is one of my secular bibles. When I first started reading it, the first thing that happened was she changed my mind about how I viewed frugality. I grew up in a home with a very modest income. Of course, my stepfather’s penchant for the bottle had a lot to do with our financial status and there was as much shame attached to his behavior as there was to the hand-me-downs and goodwill visits. In the “Tightwad Gazette”, however, Ms. Dacyczyn points out how, for example, we buy brand new clothes and, within a few months to a year, we either relegate them to the back of the closet where they never see the light of day again or we discard them. In fact, discarded clothing makes up a large bulk of our landfills so overcoming even this one fetish for the latest fashions would solve another problem in our society. She relates a story about buying a pair of boots second-hand for her daughter. They were the right brand but the color was “wrong”. Well, her daughter wore them to school, despite the “wrong” color, and came home raving about how everyone loved the boots in this unique color. I am not at all ashamed to admit that when I decide I “need” a new skirt or blouse, I shop at the thrift store FIRST (intimate apparel and shoes are the exceptions). It’s all about perception. If you can look at frugality as a skill, an art, maybe even as something fun–a game to be played in the marketplace, it takes away the stigma our society has attached to thrift. And who doesn’t love a few extra dollars in their pocket?

Maybe it is natural to want more. I’m thinking that’s just another myth we’ve been brainwashed by our media to believe. I know I quote HGTV a lot but they are a good example of the societal mindset. In my not-so-humble opinion, nobody needs 5000 square feet of living space unless your last name is Duggar and you’ve got 19+ kids in tow. Even then, I would question it. You see a lot of waste on HGTV, a lot of spoiled, superficial people (or seemingly so) who have to rip out the “dated” kitchen and replace everything. Okay. Maybe the refrigerator is old and inefficient. That would make sense. But a coat of paint on the cabinets would give the room a fresh, new look without sending a lot of composites and laminates to the landfills…or without emptying your wallet. I also quote tiny houses a lot. No, not everyone could live in a space 400 square feet or less, but they do provide some great examples of how to maximize living space so that maybe 1000 square feet instead of the 3000 square-foot McMansion will suffice–without one feeling deprived. The tiny house movement forces us to look at life from the perspective of “what do we need” vs. “how fast can I keep up with the jones'”? And, as they quote a few tiny house builders and/or buyers in their advertisements, the mindset is to save more on the cost of living so you can afford to live life–to spend more quality time with family and friends rather than in the office working overtime to pay for the 3000 square feet; to get outdoors and spend more time in nature; to spend more time playing sports, attending concerts or going to the theatre–whatever your passion. When you look at how much you sacrifice in memories, in good health and happy, relaxing experiences, the cost goes even higher.

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Dacyczyn, A. The Tightwad Gazette. Villard Books, New York: 1993.

Abuse, Alcoholism, Faith, Frugality, Gratitude, Holistic Health, Nature, Religion, Spirituality, Yoga & Fitness

Recognizing the Little Miracles

Lisa Burbank

This morning 3:30 was a bit of a struggle. My body isn’t quite settling down to sleep at the earlier bedtime needed to support such an early rising. But I know it won’t be much longer. I feel myself waking up just minutes before the alarm and I am waking up on my own. This morning–barely! I was tempted to make a quick trip downstairs to the loo and then give in to the temptation to go back to bed for another hour…or two. But I drew a deep breath, pulled on the big girl pants and got on the yoga mat instead.

And my favorite yoga video–A.M. Yoga for Beginners with Rodney Yee (Gaiam)–broke. I popped the VHS tape (yes, it is that old, that beloved) into the VCR (yes, I still have one–two, actually) and there were all these squiggly lines across the TV screen (the TV is an analog, btw…) then the VCR actually shut off and ejected the tape–almost. It would only come out so far. So I turned the VCR back on and pushed it back in, hit rewind. It rewound. I hit play. More squiggly lines and, after another moment or two, the VCR shut off again, spitting out the tape; again, halfway. So I tried to extract it. And the tape snapped. Judging by the accordian-like folds in it, it has seen its better days.

Normally, I would throw a little temper tantrum; the peace of my day would’ve been totally spoiled. This would be “proof” that I should have gone with my first instinct and gone back to bed. But I think the combination of Al-Anon daily literature and Positive Affirmations for Life, “Affirmations for Living a Complaint-Free Life” (Farnoosh Brock) program is finally being absorbed somewhere in the DNA, or at least the psyche, because I had only a fleeting moment of calmly thinking “That sucks” and then I reached for a lesser-used yoga video, “Stress Relief Yoga for Beginners” with Suzanne Deason (Gaiam). It proved to be a nice change of pace and helped release some of the shoulder tension I had been holding onto. I remembered why it has also been a bit of a favorite of mine and I came away from that half hour feeling totally relaxed and energized…which is how one should feel after a yoga workout. So there’s the first little miracle of my day. I overcame a personal, well, not exactly a hang-up but I didn’t allow this little hiccough to overshadow everything else. I didn’t view it as “the end of the world”. (It’s funny because I usually maintain calm in major calamities (i.e. true crises) but its the little things like this that usually frustrate and irritate me to no end)

However, as I sat down to pray the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy, I started thinking that replacing it with the DVD version probably wouldn’t be all that expensive; I would really miss this video. It’s a very gentle series of stretches that really wake up the body-mind, helping me to focus. And, without it, those times when I’ve been lazy and given into that temptation to catch another hour or two of sleep, I find my joints really starting to ache. Yoga, in general, has been like food and water for me–I need it to feel healthy and strong each day. Again, I would really miss this one. So, despite trying to keep my spending to the barest minimum, it would be worth the investment. After my prayers, affirmations, Mind Movies (Natalie Ledwell), and meditation (another small miracle–I reined in my usual impulsive nature), I went online to http://www.gaiam.com and looked to see if this video was even still available. It was given to me in 2002 by a friend so it is at least 15 years old but, apparently, it is a popular seller because Gaiam still carries it.

And here’s the third little miracle of my day: Gaiam is hosting a big sale of their DVD’s. You could buy 4 DVD sets (i.e. more than one DVD in each) for just under $19. I had mentally budgeted myself that if A.M. Yoga for Beginners was over $30, I would just have to make due without it. Now I have 3 other DVD sets coming with it; should be here in a few days. Even with shipping and handling, I didn’t exceed the $30 cap. And this actually answered another longing in my heart. I’ve been thinking I would like to try some new yoga routines and here I have several coming to me. Proof that He really does give us what we need…and maybe even a few of the things we want. Earlier this week, my favorite juices, bananas, frozen strawberries, and Sunbutter (for making smoothies) all went on sale at Big Y–and that seems to be a regular thing. When I really need something, He provides a sale so that I can afford it.

I’m going to shoot for the stars now. With a little help from above, maybe someone will have a sale on a good pair of walking sneakers in the not-so-distant future. A little cardio would be a good thing and I have 20 lbs. extra to shed. You never know. Little miracles occur every day. And these are just the material. If we look closely enough, we may begin to see those little miracles everywhere. I’m going to keep looking for those little miracles. And be grateful for each and every one of them.

May God bless you & keep you!

Alcoholism, Environment, Frugality, Homesteading, Minimalism, Zero Waste

Tiny Houses

Lisa Burbank

I am going to have to nix the Monday night Tiny House fest. There is no way I can rise and shine at 3:30 in the morning after staying up past 10 o’clock. Sleep depravity does not a good blog post make.

I love tiny houses. I love their creativity. I love the significantly lower carbon footprint tiny living makes. I love how everything has a place and everything is in its place because such a tiny area would become quite cluttered in a very short time without such organization. I love how everything has multiple purposes and can transform almost like magic. And, I guess, if I really think about it, there’s still a little girl inside of me looking at them as a sort of high-end playhouse. I love the mobility of them, too. It speaks to the free spirit within me that wants to roam at will but not lose the creature comforts and sanctity of home. If I had a tiny house, my menagerie of pets could travel with me and, thus, I would lose the anxiety that inevitably pops up whenever I am away from them. This last part I questioned when I first learned about tiny houses but, over the last couple of years, I have seen some great designs–some that have included chicken coops, rabbit dens, and even a goat pen (for a very small amount of goats). I lean more towards the re-purposed school bus though. There have been some great conversions on HGTV and some of the buses are 40 feet long–much longer than the traditional tiny house. Either way, there is something infinitely appealing about them. I’m a minimalist at heart. And tiny houses definitely promote minimalism.

Watching all of the Tiny House programs on HGTV has been a weekly routine ever since Mom had cable TV installed. For the most part, I abhor television. I consider it a waste of time and there’s very little by way of real entertainment on it today. Insipid sitcoms and reality shows just don’t appeal. Too much violence, too much promiscuity, too much greed and materialism. I’m old school. I want a compelling story line with characters I’d be proud to welcome into the living room each week. Today, such a program might just create a new trend. It would certainly be a novelty.

But I am digressing as always…

As stated in other postings, Mom watches HGTV religiously so, when she saw the advertisement a while back that there were programs dedicated to Tiny Houses, she brought it my attention. She doesn’t quite understand my aversion to television and keeps trying to capture my interest. Because I do tend to favor the articles in Treehugger about tiny houses, I started watching them with her on HGTV. Again, I enjoy the creativity, the thought, the planning that goes into the building of each one. Like most of the other shows on HGTV, eventually, when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. But the tiny scale still amazes me. Besides the animal accommodations I mentioned earlier, I’ve seen some clever hydroponic systems for growing vegetables and herbs; love the rooftop decks; and one woman made an archway out of hanging planters filled with plants that have been proven to improve air quality–not that all plants don’t filter carbon monoxide and purify air, but these were plants that she had studied that do the job best. It was really an attractive feature.

While I do enjoy watching all of these clever designs on how to bring big living into a tiny footprint, when Mom is away from home, the boob tube typically stays off. And I don’t miss it at all. So I am confident that nixing Tiny Houses will be easy enough. Perhaps I’ll take some of the ideas I’ve learned there and build a story around someone who lives in one…

….or maybe I’ll build a tiny house of my own “someday”. Of course, Mom and I always joke that we would each need one because our relationship is strained enough trying to live together in a house that’s, roughly, 1500 square feet; under 400 square feet might be the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Maybe we’ll start our own tiny house community instead. How cool would that be?

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Alcoholism, Animal Rights, Environment, Faith, Frugality, Homesteading, Minimalism, Nature, Religion, Zero Waste

Sunday Laments

Lisa Burbank

28 people attended the 11 o’clock Mass this Sunday–and that was counting members of the choir, the Lector and Eucharistic Minister.
28?
And Father Elson (who would make 29 people in church on Sunday) made an announcement that every 5 years the Diocese of Norwich does an evaluation of churches to determine if there is enough attendance to warrant keeping them open. This year is the 5 year mark again for Our Lady of LaSalette. If we fail the evaluation, our doors may close forever.
What is wrong with this picture?
I remember as a little girl that St. Rita’s Catholic Church in Oakland Beach, Rhode Island would be full every Sunday morning. We’re only talking the mid-1970’s so what has happened in the last 40 years to take people away from church? Away from God? I am speaking, primarily, to Christians, because I do not know if attendance has fallen in the synagogues, mosques, or any other houses of worship. And, though I spoke of Catholicism, it does not matter the denomination. I have visited Baptist, Methodist and Episcopalian churches in recent years and their attendance is down, too. I think that it is truly sad that our modern-day society neglects Him so greatly–especially with all of the violence and degradation that seems so prevalent in this society.
Okay. Maybe it is not that folks are neglecting Him. Maybe the kids’ soccer/softball/badminton practice isn’t taking precedence over keeping the Sabbath Day holy. Maybe we’re not worshiping St. Mattress either. Maybe we’re not being influenced by all the anti-God media that laces our society. It could be that it is just the whole “organized religion” thing that has turned folks away. And I understand the myriad reasons that might happen.
Though this would fall under the category of “hearsay”, I have friends with parents who used God–or their religion–to punish their children when they did something wrong. I know of two such individuals who talk about having to kneel on popcorn kernels and pray the rosary for whatever offense they committed. Personally, I think this would be one of those individuals that Jesus said “woe unto them” for keeping the little children from coming to Him, not to mention a form of abuse. If a child associates the divine meditation of the rosary (or any other religious practice) with punishment, it is little wonder that their relationship with Him would be tainted from the very beginning. I know of one individual who was denied food for her children because she was not a regular member of the parish that she visited for help. Okay. I have visited the local food pantry in recent times and I know they have specific towns that they serve; their pantry is stocked only so full. So, on the one hand, I can understand this position, but children were starving. At the very least, a point in the direction of someone who could help might have been appreciated. Another refuses to attend because a beloved relative was denied a eulogy due to their civil union with a member of the same sex. Yes, I can pull Scripture that supports this stand. But I believe we are born with our orientation. I am hetero. If I were to date again, it would be as natural as breathing for me to date a man. It is not something I consciously think about and choose. And I have to believe it is the same for someone in a same sex relationship. If I am wrong, somehow I do not think continuing this modern-day witch hunt against the LGBT community is going to help the situation. The Bible also teaches us not to lie and to deny one’s orientation would be the same as lying. We do not know His plan for anyone else but we do know He also commands us to “love our neighbors as ourselves” and to “judge not lest ye be judged”. Sadly, in taking this stand, the loved ones who came to say their last goodbye were denied the healing closure of bereavement and worship. And, truly, a funeral or memorial service is for the loved ones left behind as much as for the soul of the departed.
Yes, someone (parents? grandparents?) rammed religion down your throat as a child. Perhaps they used a religious practice to punish you. But it was not God who used religion to punish you. Yes, you and your child were denied food but it was not God who denied you. It was a person. And it doesn’t matter if it was someone of the cloth. They may be a representative here on earth of our heavenly Father but they are still human, with all of the fallacies and short-comings of the human race. Yes, a loved one was denied a Sacrament. Again, it was a human being who denied it.
Something else I hear a lot of, too, is questioning. And the questions all boil down to the same thing: why does He let bad things happen? He gave us the Bible as a road map for living a good life here on earth. He also gave us the right to choose whether or not we will use that road map to continuously seek Him and to obey his commandments. He had to give us the right to choose or our faith would be meaningless if we did not seek Him for ourselves. I know it sounds like a platitude to say that others choose NOT to follow Him and so they commit these atrocities against the earth, it’s creatures and, most especially, our fellow Man. That doesn’t give much solace for the loved ones of victims from our fallen world, or even when illness takes those loved ones away. The truth is, I don’t have a better answer and I would to God I did. As a survivor of child molestation, there have been many times in my life that I have asked “Why?” myself, times when my anger has gripped me and left me railing at Him for forsaking me in my time of need, as I remember all the times as a little girl that I knelt beside my bed and prayed that the abuse–and the alcoholism that helped fuel it–would end. But it didn’t. However, I do believe that He has a plan even for that. And I do know that whenever I choose to follow Him, despite the loss, the horror, the pain of bad things happening–even to good and godly-people–that somewhere along the line, His grace does lead me through it and there is always that little nudge to take that pain and make something happy and positive from it. Maybe it’s a specific action to alleviate future sufferings. Maybe it’s simply a command to listen more to others, or to pray. Maybe it’s a command to listen more closely to Him…and to obey those instincts that alert us when something is wrong. Or perhaps it is simply a command to understand that in order to love my neighbor as myself, I have to learn to love myself enough to make that a valid command.
God commanded us to “remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy”. A bad experience in one church or with an individual from a particular church or denomination–a bad experience, period–should not prevent us from coming to Him each week in worship and prayer. It should not deny us the fellowship and support of a worshiping community either. God simply is. God is enough. And that should be reason enough to keep that Sabbath Day holy.
May God bless you & keep you!