The State of Washington implemented temporary processing changes to get unemployment claims to the people that needed them. They were also victims of a massive fraud ring that caused them to stop payments while addressing the issues. Their response was swift and effective. They brought on 300 departmental employees from other services and called up the National Guard to help process. Benefits were being paid out again quickly and anyone that is waiting will be rectified by the 19th of June. Wisconsin should take note . . .
My absence has been long, but I am back. Today and for the next few months I’ll be sharing stories and using my platform to bring awareness to the absolute injustice of the unemployment system throughout our country and especially within Wisconsin. I will share documents, discuss policy, and most importantly impress the goal of our mission: #PEOPLEoverPolitics.
To help you understand what is happening. When our country shutdown, billions of people filed for unemployment across the nation. No system was ready for the sudden explosion of a million claims a day. The following is the story of one individual. She finally received her benefits on June 10, 2020. She is not alone, and there are hundreds of thousands that continue to wait for benefits they deserve.
“Claim Finally Approved!!! I want to talk about my experience navigating through unemployment. I apologize this post is very long, but I felt it was important to share and for the support group to read in its entirety. My journey through WI Unemployment due to the pandemic: Regular Unemployment.
I relocated to GA January 2020. ALL my wages are from WI as I had lived there and worked there all my life. So, I had to file my claim in WI. I filed on 3/27 after being laid off from my current employer due to COVID. A claim specialist contacted me on 3/30 to take some information regarding my claim. A few days later checked online and claim was pending review by adjudication 3/30. The issues were two “quits” the quit from my employer in WI to relocate here & the other a quit from a previous employer here to take a better job.
After about 3 weeks of waiting I contacted unemployment for update regarding my claim. I was informed, by a somewhat rude man, that a requalifying wage questionnaire was being mailed out to me. The form was mailed out on 4/23 but did not arrive until 4/27. I immediately filled it out, attached paystubs, faxed/mailed back as form stated. The form was to see if I earned enough to requalify for benefits. Since I quit in Wisconsin to relocate, I had to requalify for benefits. I earned enough in wages from current employer laid off from to requalify. That issue was entered in as “quit, requalified before benefits claimed”.
Now I still have the other “quit” pending review by adjudicator. Even though I requalified I was still informed I needed to wait for adjudicator to contact me regarding the quit from previous employer. I called mid-May for update and was informed no one had been assigned to my case yet. I also was sent a letter stating to call a claim specialist due to a different name of current employer reported verses the one I listed. I immediately called and was finally able to get through to correct the information. They had the payroll name instead of the employer’s name. I was SO frustrated with UI I thought to myself I am NOT going to call anymore. I will continue to try and wait patiently.
However, I read some post on the support group stating that they called and eventually got their case resolved. I decided to call on June 1st. I called using the phone number 414-438-7702 on Monday June 1st. I was number 194 and held on for 2 1/2 hours. I spoke with a claim’s specialist. She asked me the name of my employer from which the “quit” was from. (Now mind you this information was giving to the very first claim’s specialist I spoke with on 3/30). I gave her the information again. AGAIN, due to the name difference of the employer & the agency they used to process their payroll that was the issue with getting the employer’s correct name. Finally, she was able to locate my employer in GA.
She put the information in & stated I was NOT assigned to an adjudicator yet and could be up to end of June, early July to hear back. My mouth dropped! Side note – the claim specialist was chewing/popping gum & continuously yawning while speaking with me. I thought in my head…. how unprofessional. But of course, I was not going to say anything to harm the call. But I did say…you must be tired with a little laugh. It sounded like she was working from the comfort of her home, without a care in the world regarding what I was going through. I informed the specialist that I have been waiting since the end of March. She informed me how behind they were. I said okay and just tried to be as nice as possible. I said thank you and ended the call. Although she did type this information in the system I felt like I was NEVER going to get my benefits.
The next day (June 2nd) I got a call that went straight to voice mail. I listened to it. It was an adjudicator. My phone did not ring & there was NO missed call symbol. I do not have any spamware on my phone. So how it went straight to voice mail is beyond me. Anyway, she left her name & callback number. She said I had 48 hours to respond. I called back immediately, no answer. I left a message. I continued to callback, no answer. I did not leave another message that day. I called back the next day (June 3rd) several times.
Finally, she answered. She questioned me regarding the reason I quit my previous employer. She seemed to try to twist my words regarding what I had told her about the reason I quit. I had to tell her excuse me, let me be clear….She was acting as if I was NOT allowed to quit a job. I gave notice and knew I could take a better job offer. Plus, I had the new job before I quit. The adjudicator that took my case was not a pleasant adjudicator at all. She was really trying to be rough. But I knew I had done nothing wrong regarding the quit and the employer could NOT say otherwise. I knew I had done right before I quit. She asked me to fax paystubs from current employer to her personal fax. I informed her I faxed paystubs back in April when I did the requalifying wage questionnaire. She stated she did not see them. (OMG….me in my head).
I immediately faxed them (more money that I did not have to spend because I am unemployed & I faxed this information already). She informed me she would have a decision in 5-7 days. Expect a letter in the mail however it will be online first. Continue to file weekly clam. I just looked this morning (June 10th) and found out my claim had been approved and was paid out into my bank account. I got on my knees to thank GOD without him I could NOT have survived this horrible ordeal.
This was one of the most brutal things I have ever encountered! The system was so COLD. I felt so vulnerable without income. The 11 week wait, the constant worrying about things that needed to get paid, the not knowing if I would ever get benefits paid, the long hours on hold trying to speak with some, some of the uncaring attitudes/unprofessionalism of some of those whom answered the line, the constant run around and different things told by some of the people who answered the lines…etc..
I called/emailed the governor, reps, senator, congresswoman, assemblyman. I even emailed Nancy Pelosi & President Trump out of desperation. Everyone responded but with a generic email. I honestly felt that all that was useless (maybe/maybe not)? I feel they did NOT get to my case any sooner. The only thing I think helped me was calling. I called Monday spoke with claim specialist. All the sudden got a call from adjudicator Tuesday! Applied 3/27 and Approved 6/9. Claim paid out in its entirety on 6/10.
Unbelievable! I am SO grateful & thankful through GOD is the only way I got my benefits. I put this whole situation in his hands as I could not bare it all anymore. I was planning on getting a house before the virus hit. I was blessed to be able to stay at my apartment, however I will now need to move to a different apartment due to my lease is up & current apartment now rented. I blew through pretty much all my savings & credit card trying to stay afloat.
So yes, I am happy this ordeal is finally over, but my spirit has suffered so badly through this unemployment nightmare. How can you TRULY be happy after going through this? I am NUMB. I NEVER want to see this nightmare again. My employer will be calling me back at this point I am most happy NOT to have to constantly check my claim and see the same information for months! I am most happy NOT to be so worried & see more grey hair each morning. Mental health slowing declining even though I fight to stay strong. I am most happy to be able to pay my rent, bill’s & credit card now.
I will save the rest of the funds. There is NO way I would spend foolishly. Especially with all I had to go through. I have worked ever since I was 17 years old. I am close to 50 years old now. I am entitled to my unemployment benefits. My claim was legitimate. I felt degraded during this process. I have only used unemployment once in my life in 2013 (three payments). It was not my fault then & it surely is not my fault now! I know there are people that they must watch out for that look to fraud the system, however Wisconsin is being so tough on the people that have legitimate claims. Wisconsin unemployment system did NOT help me in a timely manner, AT ALL.
This system had ruined so many people’s livelihood/financial stability. Shame on you! Even though you had an unprecedented number of claims there is NO excuse for this & it is unacceptable. This is NOT a joke; this is people’s lives. I know for sure that Wisconsin’s Unemployment does NOT care…. business as usual. Yes there have been resources to help during this crisis (thank goodness), however if UI would have acted sooner we may not have not needed them. The unemployment process has caused many depression, anxiety, mental health, substance abuse…etc. No updates. Confusing wording. Keeping people in dark about their claims. No clear answers. Difficult to understand determinations. Denying of people who do not call within given timeframe as they are unable to get through the phone lines. Trouble getting through to speak to a person regarding claim. Some people that did answer the phones displayed poor customer service. Many people have never filed for unemployment in their lives. This is partially why some people claims were messed up. You must do as much research regarding unemployment in regard to your own situation to get answers.”
There is nothing I can say that could be as effective as my friend. Please, do what you can to support the people around you that are enduring this injustice. It is not reserved for any particular race, class, or location. This pathetic display of poor leadership has spread far and wide.
A dear and amazing young woman I adore posted about her struggle with depression. She has been actively sharing her struggle. She doesn’t want another message event to be overtaken by someone’s recent suicide are fall into addictions. Instead, she wants to share. To break down the box mental health has been hidden in for 40 decades.
Can we all do that? Give the power to ourselves and NOT the fears, anxiety, loss, grief, shame, loneliness, isolation and sadness.
I call it authentic living. Sure, I’ve got a lot of great things going, but some moments, days, weeks, and months are just hard.
We don’t and won’t always know the cause, reason, or coping skill to come back to happy, content, and joy … but we fight like hell to get there.
We WANT to be there.
What makes others keep moving, slows me down.
What reminds me to take one more step, may be the vice or memory that sinks you to barren lands.
We are human.
We are every third person you encounter.
We are just like you.
Riding down the road last week, my SO and kids were singing along with the radio. Then “C’mon Ride It (The Train)” by Quad City DJ’s came on. I started laughing and then turned around. The kids were bug eyed and wondering why the adults in the car were head bobbing and getting our groove on. Apparently, that song is old and weird. Flabbergasted. Yup, that’s the correct description when they laughed at us. I remember school dances with that song. I remember waiting for hours to record it when the radio played it during “Soul Jam” hour.
I have reflected on that moment in the car quite a few times over the weekend. What was it about that song? Its happy. Its fun. Its community. When I hear that song, I smile and become instantly transported to a time when positivity won, and intentions weren’t diluted into a talk show or twitter feed. I’ve been on a positivity train for the past ten months. With that train came a full dose of understanding worth.
To bring you on board the Positivity Train, I’d love to share some meme’s that I have placed around my office, some quotes from one of my favorite authors, and a writing from quite possibility the most profound book of self-worth I have ever picked up.
Do something that makes you smile today.
Call a friend and talk about nothing.
Stop and grab that favorite drink or snack that you are trying to quit enjoying.
Help a stranger.
C’mon, ride this train!
This post is in support of “Working on Us” and Beckie’s commitment to Mental Health awareness. Addiction is the topic for week 21 and I decided to share my own story of exposure to addiction. Check out Beckie’s Mental Mess blog.
Addiction is a disease.
Addiction cannot be compartmentalized.
Addiction is a coping mechanism.
Addiction is contagious.
Addiction is not just about substances; it is instant gratifying behaviors.
Rarely do I come across a person that, in some way or another, has been unaffected by addiction. As a young child, my biological father was an addict. His choices eventually led him to prison. The first photo of my life holds a story of its own: my mom, lying in a hospital bed, gazing down at me in her arms and the only visible side of her face is marred with a black eye and swollen cheek area.
My mother saved us from that life of addiction and violence. Yes, the two often correlate. After that rough start I wasn’t exposed to or really affected by substance addictions until I was around 35. While I consistently worked for organizations that sought to serve these populations, those were never my specific department within the building.
Life happened and my own poor choices led to me spending ten months in a county jail. This experience led to an eye-opening revelation and new passion regarding addictions, incarceration, and the general goodness of a human being. My prior thought process was not consciously avoiding or judging those affected by addiction, but I certainly was not actively thinking, researching, and assisting. One thing to note about my personality and character. I am a helper. I enjoy and naturally gravitate to those that need support, guidance, or to just be heard. Over the years several young adults have stayed with my family as they started over, stepped out on their own, or just needed a bed to call their own.
While incarcerated I met roughly 60 different women, each with a unique story and each with an accentuated chapter or section in their lives overrun by addiction. The charges that placed them in jail ranged from petty theft to attempted murder. Each case driven by addiction. Each woman broken down, defiant, and most ready to start over, but unable to maintain any sobriety for longer than 1-2 days after release. Of those 60 women, I would eventually see 25 of them cycle through the system a few more times before my own departure.
What happened to me while incarcerated was a monumental shift in my own belief system and willingness to see an entire population of individuals that I had ignored for 35 years. I began talking to the women. I listened to their stories, learned about their families, and felt their desperate cries for help. They knew they were addicts. They knew about sobriety programs. They had been through them all, rather court ordered or by self-admission. What they hadn’t connected to was the foundation of their addictions, the tools needed to override the stronghold of addiction, and where to really start.
Addiction is pain.
Addiction is regret.
Addiction is loss.
Addiction is abandonment.
Addiction is personal.
My education in psychology and career in mental health treatments and program had equipped me long before this journey began. The more I listened, the more passionate I became about leaving behind a message, or a mark on these women. I had no desire to be just another inmate in their lives. Late one evening, as I struggled to sleep, I hatched a plan for the rest of my stay. I would seek out those in turmoil, not the ones that seemed more stable. I would dedicate my time to individuals that were left out, not the ones that were more socially exciting and intriguing. This wasn’t an easy path, but it became necessary.
My method? I would teach. After raising 5 teens and fostering/mentoring dozens more, I was familiar with angst, depression, trauma, and most importantly, the need to find purpose and promise. While I am a spiritual person, I did not wish to allow that to be my guide in discussions with others. I had read, and seen, how religion becomes a crutch for many incarcerated individuals. I didn’t want to build rapport on a base that may be temporary. I wanted to get down to the level below that. So, I asked questions. I knew nothing. I allowed these women to educate me on a way of life that simply blew my mind.
As stories flowed, and trust began to grow, I was able to work with women that were serving long sentences, awaiting trial, and those that were just passing through. I continued a model of behavior that I had lived my life by that included the absence of physical violence, processing of feelings and emotions, using words instead of only actions, and absolute transparency. Was this wholly accepted? Absolutely NOT. But this way of living was attractive. I do not actively hold on to anger. I do not surrender energy to negative forces, people, or opinions that have no chance of being neutralized or reversed. And of an even greater significance, I accept my situation and find joy. Yes, that’s right, I found great joy in my situation. I often refer to my time in the county jail as an extended stay at summer camp.
The transformation and realization that addiction is not the person was slow and steady. I began to see past damaged teeth, negative attitudes, controlling actions and words. What was coming out from behind these surface identifiers was the real human. Gradually lives began to take shape, and with about ten women, I was able to go deeper. We spoke of their past, traumas, emotions, feelings, and addiction.
I didn’t save everyone. I didn’t save anyone, to be honest. But I did offer myself as a resource and a light in what seemed to be very dark worlds. At the time, and even still today, my way of life is foreign to many of these women. It is not something they feel is ever attainable. But they think about it. The seed has been planted.
For those that I did reach. I was given the awesome opportunity to educate them and show them what coping skills that build a person up look like. We began to break up a damaged foundation and lay the new, stronger, grounding in its place. The new foundations were full of reasons. Reasons why talking, helping, coloring, meditation, religion, children, family, jobs, etc. are options in place of addictions. We spoke about feelings and how to describe them. Emotions, often misunderstood, were given names and causes. Above all, I was able to teach a method that involved seeking the reason for a feeling or emotions, and then processing that reason in response to the stress of their own body’s reactions.
I was not, and am not, the reason for anyone’s sobriety. But I do know I made a difference. That was what I set out to do. Sadly, 12 out of 60 women I was incarcerated with have passed due to overdosing in the last 4 years. These deaths serve as a reminder that the work is never done.
Addiction is about mental health.
Sobriety isn’t about simple abstinence.
Sobriety is about understanding why addiction became a lifestyle to begin with.
Recovering from addiction is acknowledging and accepting our own reactions and allowing them to be expressed or processed in ways that lead us to move on, not stay stagnate in a haze of substance abuse that blinds from the truth.
I walked into the jail ready to do my time and get it over with. I walked out with a new understanding of the people behind addictions. I walked out with respect for individuals that often get no respect. I forged friendships with women that haven’t had a true transparent friend for years, if ever. Since my release, my home has been a refuge. My kids are raised with a sensitivity to the struggles of others. And I wake each day with a reminder that addiction does not define a person, nor does it make them unavailable to love or compassion. In contrast, it makes them in need of it more than ever.
A great blog and passion for building mental health awareness.
Hello, All! Welcome back to “Working on Us” – A series that represents people with mental health illnesses/disorders.
Before I begin Week #21, I’d like to share with you all the participants that had responded to Week #20, Topic: Dissociative Identity Disorders aka (D.I.D.) I had requested bloggers to write a narrative based on this topic because I, myself had really no true knowledge of this particular disorder. I am grateful to those who have shared their stories with us.
Here are our participants for Week #20:
Melanie C., of “Sparks From a Combustible Mind”
Carol Anne, of “Therapy Bits”
Carol Anne, of Therapy Bit” (Part 2)
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Do you ever look at a picture and ache for the “you” you were at that moment? I’ve been going through it lately. “It” being a restructuring of my beliefs, on all fronts, and aligning or comparing them with the world that we live in. At the same time, I’ve been redecorating my home office and hanging pictures that remind me of the amazing life I’ve lived and have yet to live.
Maybe that first question doesn’t apply to you. But what if the question were “do you ever think about your old self?” Maybe at 25, or just a decade ago? That is an element of my latest reflections. Now that I’ve spent roughly 90 seconds speaking in some dark and dismal code . . . I’ll get to my point. This world, right now – today, SUCKS!
I came across a picture of myself and a former significant other. The joy and laughter in that photo absolutely melts my heart. Like, seriously, it’s a moment in time when things weren’t great, but on that day our joy was evident. If I knew or had my eyes fully open at that moment, would I have had that level of joy?
Some of you may know, but if not, I have an extreme obsession with Rachel Maddow. I think she is amazing. Her journalistic vibe is catchy; she’s funny; super smart; and she’s a stone-cold dork. She is my kinda people. Recently I’ve been reading her new book, “Blowout”. My mind is blown. I find it absolutely ridiculous that I have lived in a world and time where corruption has been so evident, and I didn’t care. I’m 40 and didn’t care until I was 37! I take full responsibility for that. I’ve lived in ignorant bliss. But, in the words of my hilarious 4-year-old granddaughter, HOLY JUACAMOLE!
My recent submersion in all things political has left me with a significant number of quandaries. So many that, with great frustration, I just feel like there is no hope. That, as Americans, we are led by a man that is so disgusting, rude, belligerent, volatile, and dismissive of anything that is reality breaks my heart. I did not realize how patriotic I am until that very patriotism became under attack. I deem myself an activist. However, now, I see all the problems and am frozen by the enormity of the actions required to even remotely make a difference.
I don’t dare list the issues that plague my heart and mind. There isn’t enough time and I will likely rant forever. But we are working on some podcast episodes that will highlight current issues and discussion from multiple perspectives. Additionally, I’m hopeful in the possibility of launching a new radio show that will air in Milwaukee and be available to stream online! It’s always been a dream of mine to be on the radio so that’s a big deal!
To wrap it all up I’ll go back to my original thought. I have spent the last 72 hours aching for a happier “me”. What I have come to realize is that I am now, at this age, discovering and cementing a part of my belief system that many began forming in their twenties. The struggle with the process is that I’m much more pensive and realistic now than I would have been at, say, 25. Life and experience has create a hailstorm of doubt, confusion, and frustration that definitely would not have been present had I have taken the leap into political, social, economic, and global issues back then. My passion would have been pure, but not as based on research and applicability.
Stay tuned for more . . . clearly, I haven’t made any concrete decisions yet. LOL
I saw a picture and post about a tattoo a few months ago. Below, I’ve shared the picture. (Please note, I am not aware of the original poster, but do offer them the credit.) “I’m Fine” is a casual phrase we all use to move conversation along and often rely on those two words to reflect the attention elsewhere. A young woman, suffering from chronic depression, inked her body with these words. But there is a twist, to her it reads “I’m Fine”, to others it reads “Save me”. Think on that for a minute.
Continuing the journey of letting go reminded me of that post and tattoo I saved in my phone. It struck me simply because I believe we all suffer from a form of depression, but for some, it lingers and consumes us. When I embarked on the journey of placing worth in people, time, and self, I had no idea that I would also be addressing deep hidden truths that led me to respond with “I’m Fine” more often, than not.
You see, getting rid of all those things that distracted me pushed me to examine the intangibles in my life. I would love to report that, after ridding myself of electronics, negative media outlets, etc., I kept walking and never looked back. But that wouldn’t be the truth. The truth is that it continues to be a struggle even today. To clear up any misconception, I am not advising you enter your home and junk everything, that is what I needed to do to start appreciating life and opportunity.
After that initial unloading in my mid-twenties, I struggled with consumption and distraction well into my thirties. For a time, I would gain and accumulate, only to lose it due to stupidity, ignorance, life choices, or a mixture of all three plus seven more reasons. The idea of what my priorities were became a wavering mindset and often fell to the waste side when tempted by new technology and expensive toys that I had to have.
I taught my kids to use their money on experience, not things that don’t last. Or purchase something that will be with you for years and will serve a valuable purpose other than a distraction from living. If I only I led by example. Around the age of 35 I experienced a year of profound loss and destruction. While the details are private, what I will say is the life I knew changed in an instant. Twelve months of death, sadness, financial loss, family struggle, and court battles led to a period that will mark the beginning of living this life.
I lost everything. Everything that meant something and everything that simply just took up space. In the end, everything was just another word. Pictures, items that belonged to my late mother, electronics, files, records, furniture, collectibles, if you look around and see something, chances are it can be counted in my “everything”. Devastation really doesn’t begin to explain the emotions that processed through my heart and mind.
As I sat wondering what I would do, I was reminded of the struggle I began a decade earlier to put worth in people and time. So, I began to separate myself from the things I had no chance of recouping. Instead, I focused on the people in my life. Those that were around me, those that were far away, and those that I hadn’t even encountered yet. For me, letting go translated into gaining everything.
Sitting here in my kitchen I look around and see stuff. Most that know me are fully aware that I love Amazon and should probably be a key spokesperson for them. But things have a different place in my life now. People come first. Experience comes first. LIFE comes first. Letting go carries so much more than walking to the trash with things I haven’t touched in years. Letting go became a point in time. Things stopped replacing my feelings and words began to reflect my true self at any given moment.
This journey hasn’t been easy and along the way I’ve learned valuable truths about myself, my past, and how I can live a transparent life. What are my distractions? Am I giving the people in my life the time they deserve? Am I creating tasks to avoid a situation? Am I “fine”?
What is your distraction? Are you really “fine” or do you need some saving too?
Letting go is a hard principle to tackle. I grew up loving stuff and took great joy in collecting more things than I could ever need. By the time I was 24, I had a hefty amount of debt to carry along with all the treasures, electronics, furniture, clothing, and vehicles I called my own. Then something happened.
Working as a church assistant led me down a series of paths that required taking a serious look at my flaws, shortcomings, and misguided habits. One morning, while doing devotions and working on a Bible study series that had continued to break me down, I was compelled to empty my life. That can mean a lot of things to a lot of people, to me, it literally meant to EMPTY my life.
Throughout the study series I had been challenged each week to take a barebones approach to different areas of my life. That week the challenge was to rid myself of all the things that blocked me from being transparent, authentic, and completely open to change. I needed to take an inventory and explain why each thing was important to me and how, if it did, assist me in growth. What I found was a house and office full of things that did nothing but build walls, prevent attentive leadership and relationships, and constantly worked to hold me back instead of pushing me forward.
That morning, before anyone came to the office, I systematically acted on the conviction of hurdles in my life. It took 73 minutes to gather the most significant items that I knew were preventing me from living transparent. These were items I had acquired through dishonesty, items that were purely negative, items that served as distractions from my goals, and items that I worshiped and gave more attention than my faith and responsibilities. I put it all in the dumpster behind the office.
Later that day I was asked about a few of the items. One was my computer, clearly an item that would be noticed in its absence. My boss inquired about the meaning of these severe actions and why didn’t I donate the items. My response was clear, and I still have no idea how it came out of me. I simply stated that if they were a hindrance for me, then surely, they would be a hindrance for someone else. There was a higher power at work that day. When I doubted myself and this drastic change, I went to the dumpster and it had already been emptied. It was not our usual trash pickup day.
You may not be a religious person, and that is perfectly ok. This really isn’t about my faith. Its about realizing what, or who, controls you. There is more to this journey and over the next week I’ll continue to share. But today, just think about this: what or who is blocking or preventing you from living? This is a deep inquiry. Take time to really think about it. For me, it was electronics, books, and music that were taking my attention in ways and places that weren’t productive. They weren’t helping to shape the best version of me, instead, they were creating the bumps and bruises that were sustaining a stagnate me.
There are several smells that I find to be an assault to my nature. Olives, along with their slimy existence, stink. They also take up an entire section of my local grocer. Why? Because apparently some people like them. I’ve also learned that some of those people are my friends. That is a situation that may need some remedy.
Other smells? Oh . . . let’s see.
Hard working man. Now there is a smell that doesn’t bother me one bit. If he, or she (if that’s your life) walks in after a day of manual labor and being awesome and smells like sweat and accomplishment, hold the door for them and give them some love. That is a smell that rarely gets old.
Salmon. Yup, it gets its own sentence. Purely because it shouldn’t be anywhere near other words that I associate with my native language. I can’t stand it! Not only does it taste nasty, it is one of the worst smelling fish when it is being prepared.
There is only one other smell that truly gets on my nerves and has, on occasion, led me to desperate measures: teenage feet. There are not words yet formed to describe the absolute hell I lived in while my older loves were still living at home. I have never smelled anything so foul, assaulting, stagnate, or permeating in my life. To give it a reference, allow me to share an occurrence of the levels to which feet can cause delirium.
We lived in a town home. My ex-husband, our daughters (16 and 9), and our son (15). Many days came and went without us knowing exactly who was walking around with “Frito” feet, so I just blamed everyone. One morning it was everywhere. I sat in my chair, it smelled like feet. I laid on the couch, it smelled like feet. I stood in the kitchen, IT SMELLED LIKE FEET!!!! I went to the bathroom, and oh my word, it smelled like FEET!
Enough was enough. Insanity kicked in and I was on the verge of being homicidal if I didn’t cure this nastiness soon and very soon, or I would be going to see the king! I rounded up the natives and we had to find the culprit. I knew that ground zero was the garage. But this particular foot smell had an extra spin on it. As I contemplated how to extract it, I honed in on the fact that the special seasoning to this one was most certainly a dead animal. It probably suffocated due to attempted bedding in a shoe or something.
Off to the garage we went. We moved everything. And just so you know, I’m a junior level hoarder. We emptied the loft, the freezer, every kid toy, tub, drawer, and vehicle out of the garage. I should also mention this was at 8am on a Saturday (hehehe). As we neared the end of this little adventure, my older daughter said “Mom, its my shoes”. My reply was simply a rebuff because this had gone beyond the usual foot smell. No way this was a shoe that I encountered on every other day. Oh no, this smell was EXTRAordinary. It had been sauced, baked, mummified, twice baked, drenched in vinegar, and then sat out in the Vegas sun for about 48 hours. Then and only then would one of the kid’s shoes be even remotely as devastating to my senses as the current situation.
Well, after everything had been cleaned and moved out, the only thing that remained was the shoe pile. Low and behold . . . the smell led me straight to the jungle. The cooked booty and petrified funk that was this putrid stench was in, around, or near the forbidden shoe stack. My daughter was right. She had somehow managed to elevate her stink game and had prepared for us a nice dish of rot disguised as a shoe that wasn’t even a month old. Needless to say, those shoes received the stamp of disapproval and were banished to the dumpster 200 yards away and in my opinion, that wasn’t nearly far enough.
Have you ever been in jail? I have. There is moment in which you realize there is nothing you can do but wait it out. The uncomfortable feeling becomes your friend and you just make do. Well, that is the same feeling I have become accustomed to when I am faced with a smell that permeates every square inch of my life. A person’s breath, its like being in a cell. I can’t escape it! And of course, feet . . . I am a prisoner in my own home with this one. That is why I created the “process”. It has never failed to give at least two days of relief and it’s required of anyone that has, on occasion, assaulted me with their foot smell. Take note, this recipe, and required actions, will help!
- First . . . wash all bedding, pillows, blankets, etc. that have come in contact with the feet.
- Second . . . strap the person down.
- Third . . . get a basin, fill it with hot water.
- Fourth . . . mix in “man” body wash, I prefer Axe or Irish Spring, Dawn dish soap, and Listerine.
- Fifth . . . insert the animals, ahem, feet and soak them for 5 minutes.
- Sixth . . . grab a foot scrub that has exfoliating dirt in it. Scrub the living hell out of the feet! I use a Dead Sea Salt scrub. Make sure you get between the towels and up to the ankle.
- Seventh . . . Rinse in the soaking water and then scrub the feet again with the water mixture.
- Eighth . . . Towel dry and apply a moisturizing lotion.
This process should leave you with a pleasant, unassaulting, life experience for at least 2-3 days. If there is still a lingering problem, do this daily as there may be layers of funk you have yet to address.
Happy feeting and thanks for stopping in and listening to one of the many situations I deal with daily.