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positivegrunge · 3 years

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This Little Piggy and Her Little Trauma.

(TW:Sexual Abuse) I’ve noticed as I’ve aged into my 20′s, my memory is quite literal shit. I usually have my boyfriend help me remember things that only happened months ago. This isn’t unusual for a trauma survivor who blocks out most of her past in a way to cope with the literal dump truck-fire of a childhood and teenhood that I had. I can, however, remember back to the old trailer I lived in as a child. It was small, but for a little squirt like me it was just enough for me to bolt around in and grow. I was... Introduced to some things early on and it stuck with me. I remember being in my parents room and sleeping next to my father while his chainsaw of a snore rung throughout my body. It was always hard sleeping with him in the room and that continued throughout my life.

This wasn’t the only memory I had as a child living in a trailer park. I remember laying on the scratchy carpet and hearing some odd noises coming from my parents bedroom. Me, being the curious and invasive fucker I was, decided to peek under the crack of the door and investigate. This lead to me seeing a mesh of pink bodies moving to and fro and maybe that’s where this all began? I knew I saw something I probably shouldn’t have because as the 4/5 year old I was- I felt icky. Icky like the gum stuck in your hair that your mother would try to get out with all sorts of different food items but then turning to the good ol’ scissors and ultimately making you look like you crawled out of a car engine.

Now I know what you’re thinking- mostly because I shared those paragraphs with my boyfriend and he replied, “It’s sad.” To this, I say, It wasn’t sad when I grew up. It was actually pretty normal. Shit piled up and continued to pile up as I grew older and it was just the norm. So here I am, at work, sitting on the toilet as most writers tend to do when it isn’t only shit that comes out of their ass that needs to be said- but their mind. I was a child. All of us older humans have gone through those developmental phases with little to no trauma and have flourished. I, speaking for myself here, have only started to grasp this as a 20 year old.

I was born into a family with a history of PTSD and bad parenting engraved into their bones. Illinois was my home and in poverty we lived. I remember hearing stories about the sacrifices my parents frequently made to make sure I was taken care of to the best of their abilities. These stories would range from funny to kind of sad. I guess it runs in the family. My dad once had to sell his entire drum set for groceries. My mom would go months or years without proper clothing she needed. The fanciest clothing she would wear would be from Walmart or gifts given to her. I do not doubt their sacrifices in any way.

The first place I can remember us living is in the trailer park in Manteno, Illinois. I had two friends who lived next door to myself. They were Taylor and Tori and their mom Bridgette was not especially fond of me. I remember accidentally leaving my pink ladybug bike in the driveway only to find it crushed beneath the bottom of her dust covered slushee-blue van. This angered my mom and I was able to see her motherly rage seep through her eyes in a beaming way. Taylor and Tori played with me like little girls usually do, and had even gifted me some of their toys when my family decided to move out of the armpit that is Ilinois.

Pulling from the back of my memory box of age 5, in the corner where dust bunnies like to gather is solitude, there lies Michael. A firm bite from his dog had been placed on my ever-so-small rump, piercing my skin and causing what I think was a hospital visit.

This wasn’t the only searing pain I was left with. I remember being told to go to a park where I was met with a boy who was not much older than myself. I place him as Michael. I remember my pants being pulled down and the rest is just a scene of him giving me a penny for the acts he had just performed on myself in the red tunnel slide. This wasn’t the only time this had happened. I remember being under neighbors porches and privately having my body explored. The rest is a blur. It’s so weird how easily the pure form that is a 5 year old, can be changed so dramatically. I remember going to school and taking the glittery red shoes a girl had brought to school and putting them in my backpack because I thought they were pretty. I remember knocking on the neighbors doors and asking for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I remember putting notes in two boys (I’m ambitious) backpacks and telling them I liked them.

I was a kid and my start to this life was already pretty fucked up. In poverty, with a family hanging together by dental floss, already shown that the only thing they’ll want the most is your body, I struggled to learn what it means to be safe. I struggled to learn what it was to have a healthy family unit, to be protected, to be nurtured.

Thank you guys for reading this first blog post. I hope it inspires you to tell your stories and to really just let it all out an connect with those who have gone through similar situations. Not only that, but to inform those that trauma and PTSD is not just something soldiers come home with, but an actual thing that can be passed on through DNA and through anything your mind could deem as traumatic. I’m going to show you over the next posts how I’ve been brought up and how it lead me here with all the therapy and positivity that made me who I am.

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prorevenge · 5 years

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Lie about giving me a raise? Say goodbye to your income.

Sorry that its so long! Please have patience. There is a reason why I wrote it all out like this. I wanted my thought process to be understood through the story. I doubt anything like this will happen again in my life and I wanted to share it with all of you :)

(TL;DR at the bottom)

Background:

I work as a sub-contractor for an actually licensed contractor for a reality company. Basically, the realty company buys houses, and the contractor tells us to go to the new address, and my coworkers and I flip the house and get it ready to be rented out. When I first started a job, it was a difficult transition considering I was a plumber previously but, eventually I became a valuable asset to Contractor’s company thus the realty company as well. The contractor was infamous for being a bit of an ass when it came to actual business and money. He was constantly yelling and screaming at the plumber, the painters, etc. about prices and how it took them too long and he wasn’t paying that much. Which I would understand if the yelling was actually warranted. When it became tax season, he gave everyone else a 1099 and then said he “lost” mine and got pissed off every time I asked about it. (If someone knows what I can do about that please let me know.)

This guy makes easily 2 million a year (so he says) so I don’t really think $100 off the price matters that much. Not enough to get into a screaming match and ruin relationships with the other sub-contractors. I have been working for him for about a year now at 16/hr. Not too bad for my area but, I make him a lot more a day than the $160 I make every 10-hour work day.

One day I asked him for a raise, which he laughs and shuts me down immediately. After that, I decide to work harder, get houses done faster, and show him that I deserve a raise. A few months later, I decide to ask for a raise again but not as directly. “How could I be more useful to the company? So, I can increase my productivity, and both of us can make more money?” He said, “Get a van and a trailer and then we can talk about more money,” in his normal gruff tone that says, “shut up and get back to work”. After that day, I worked side jobs here and there. Worked a lot later that I usually would, and even all throughout the weekend. Saving up as much money as possible. I sometimes wouldn’t eat some days just to save that little bit of money.

He loved how much I was getting done and I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes when I told him all that I got done every day. Finally, the day came where I saved up just enough money to buy my Dad’s old ford van. Then not long after, I bought a little piece of crap 5x10 trailer that I had to fix up. The following Monday I pull up with the bright white gas guzzler and the fixed-up trailer following behind. I walked up to him smiling ear to ear about my accomplishment, hoping he would be proud or at least happy about all that I have done. I tell him to look at my new toys and all he says is “cool,” and got in his truck and left. “Okay, maybe he’s just busy,” I thought as I processed his extremely underwhelming response.

At the end of the day, I finally have a moment with him to discuss my raise. “So! I have the van, and the trailer. I have saved up and done everything you said that I needed to do to make more money and be more of an asset to this company.” He narrows his eyes at me, “What are you talking about?” “You said that if I got a van and a trailer that you would pay me more,” I said confused. “I never said any of that shit. You have to actually work if you want anything else from me.”

I was devastated. I have been working my ass off while he sat on his ass and watched. I followed every instruction, completed in the very least two houses a week (which he makes about $5000~ per house or so he says) and he acts like I do nothing for the company. I swallowed my pride and let out a quick, “Yes sir,” and left his office.

I was finally tired of dealing with Contractor. Tired and defeated, I decided it was time to start looking for other jobs that actually had the possibility to move up. Then the company electrician gave me an idea. (I am going to call him Adam for privacy reasons) Adam is a good guy all around. If you needed advice or, just someone to talk to, he was always there for you. I told him about everything that has happened with Contractor and told him I was looking for other jobs.

He simply said,” You’re not supposed to be here to try and make it to the top. You’re here to learn. Learn everything you can and then one day, you’ll be the contractor. A better one than Contractor for sure. Why not look into getting your general contracting license? Its not hard, you just have to work for it. That’s what I did to an extent. I worked for Contractor for years dealing with his bullshit. Until one day I decided to get my electrician’s license. Now, he doesn’t decide what I’m paid. I do. That is, if he wants me to work for him. And if not, then I have other customers to make my living.”

I took his words to heart and came up with a plan.

Revenge:

I did some research on becoming a general contractor in my state (Requirements differ in other states).

Basically, I would need books to learn the material, references, a bank reference, and to pass the test.

The books were pretty expensive. With bills, taking care of my family and a monthly van payment, it seemed impossible for now. Until I found a group following in my area that needed a handyman to do a variety of things. Perfect. Extra money. Soon, my name started blowing up in my small town. I did everything from repairing fences, to installing toilets. I took everything I learned from plumbing and from working for Contractor and used it to build a reputation. References: check.

This is when I decided it was time to open my own business. Again, I did my research and learned all I had to do to open said business. I’ll spare you the details but, it was basically business license, how the get an LLC, Liability insurance, think of a name NOT already taken blah blah blah.

It took a while, but I sent in all that I had and prayed to whatever god is there for me to be invited to take the test. I waited and wait until about three weeks and FINALLY I got a letter inviting me to the next test... it was a three-hour drive and on a Tuesday. Great another speed bump. Have to miss work AND pay $300.

The day of the test came, and I panicked. It was open book but, I eventually ran out of time and didn’t get to finish. I was so disappointed in myself that I basically gave up. I just decided to keep working my job and a little side business. A week later I was holding my son. He is a beautiful blonde-haired blue-eyed reflection of myself. After I managed to get him to sleep, I stared at him and wondered if I would be able to give him a better life than I had. I remember growing up in shitty trailers, being hungry and made fun of at school because I wore clothes from Walmart. Not the best way to grow up but, I had a roof over my head. I always wanted video games that my friends had but never got it. I wanted to go to trampoline parks and water parks. I’ve only been once in my entire life.

That’s about when my resolve renews itself within me. I had to do this. Not only for me but, for him. I saved up all over again and came up with the $300 and requested for a re-take of the test. I took practice tests online, so I was ready. The day came and I BARELY manage to pass. BUT I still pass the test and receive my license! Now time for the fun part.

With all of the time passing, I became pretty close friends with the owner of the reality company. Going to BBQs, stopping to tell him some corny joke I saw on Facebook (he LOVED puns), and doing extra tasks not under Contractor. One day, I came into his office and saw some invoices from Contractor one his desk. I just said,” Wow, that’s how much you’re paying him? Dude, he should at least take it a little bit easy on you being that you have known each other for so long.” He just nodded and said,” You think so?” and he just looked at the papers more. Since then I would say little comments about how much Contractor was being paid and how many houses we could buy with that money. Just planting seeds in his mind that I slowly water until they turn into a beautiful garden of resentment.

Finally, Owner calls me and wants me to come to his house for a beer and to “talk business”. (We’ve done this a few times before. It’s usually about his wife or hit last time he played golf). I pull into his driveway, and he told me to meet him out back. After the usual how-are-yous he tells me that him and Contractor had a bit of an argument and they are “limiting” him from now on. Then, he turned to me, and said,” There is a meeting Friday. I want you there at 9 o’clock.” I hesitate. I wasn’t sure what it could have been. (You know how your parents would ask “Do you have something to tell me?” and as a kid you would go into a panic and think about all the bad shit you did at school? No? Just me? Okay.)

“Sure, I’ll be there.” I manage to say calmly through a scrambled mind. A few beers and stories about fishing trips, I headed home.

That was today. (4/30/19) I was so excited to write this, I started as soon as I got home. The meeting is on Friday. If you want me to, I’ll update after the meeting.

Sorry it was so long. I guess I was excited/scared of what is about to happen. The way I see it, it can go one of two ways.

I could be asked to take Contractors place and have Contractor work for me.

They fought about what I had said about prices, and they came to an agreement that they need to confront me and/or fire me.

I’ll let you know when I do. Thanks for reading!

Update: IT HAPPENED. OH MY FREAKING GOD.

So I went to the meeting this morning, and as I came in everyone shook my hand. Some i've seen before and said my "Hi how are you"s to, others I have never met in my life. THIS WAS AN INVESTOR MEETING. Some of these people are worth figures in the nine digits. I was internally freaking out after finding out, but if you've read, you'd know I know ho to keep my cool. After our greetings, we sat down and waited. It wasn't clear who we were waiting on until an hour later Contractor walks in with his usual stained T-shirt and cargo shorts, while I am in a nice dress shirt and tie. (Figured I would look nice for this.)

Everyone made a face and greeted Contractor while we got settled again. Contractor didn't seem to notice me until we all sat back down. I saw him do a double take and, give me a look that said, "What the fuck are you doing here?" I had requested off today so I could only imagine what he was thinking. After introducing the new investors to the old investors, Owner got started saying about how we were going to have an amazing 2019 and an amazing future for the company. (I suppose he was just hyping up the new guys so they would invest more.)

About two hours of production values and budget stuff blah blah, He turned to me and said, "I would just like to take the time to congratulate OP for passing the general contractor's exam and his newly acquired business!" I smiled, and thanked him, then he continued. "As we are growing, we have a demand for new and inspiring people within our company. After hearing about OP's success in both our company and his, I would like to personally ask him a question in front of the whole team." (My heart pounding in my throat as each word sounded slower than the last. I took a side glance at Contractor that is visibly sweating at this point.) "OP, how would you like to our new property manager? You may still have your business, and do your own work. But, we will pay you exclusively to be our personal contractor and help take care of all new and old properties." Everyone turns to me and I take a second to respond.

Just then Contractor stand up and says, "What the fuck? I'm your god damn contractor! I've been your contractor for over a decade! You can't just replace me for some dip shit that doesn't know what he is doing!" Owner smugly looks at Contractor and says," We're not replacing you. You will just answer to him now. All tasks, orders and billing will go through him now. If you would like to still work for us, granted you mind your mouth and tone, you will run anything you do by OP. Contractor looks enraged and he turns to me, "YOU"RE FIRED! You have no business here anymore now LEAVE."

Owner chuckles, and says," You don't have that power anymore. As long as OP agrees to my question." I turn to him and say," Are you sure you can afford me?" I laugh and shake his hand. "Yes. This is all I have ever wanted. All that I have worked for. Now we can get some real work done. (I have to admit something, I've been practicing that response since I was asked to come to this meeting lol.) Contractor stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and I didn't see him for the rest of the day.

After he left we continued to discuss the goals for this year and its out they bought 60 new houses for me to work on with the investor's money and he just looked at me and said," Can you handle that?" I happily said, "Yes, sir." trying to keep my eyes from watering. All I thought about was my family and how proud they would be of me.

In a little under a year, I received a great license, my own business, and pretty much non-stop work. If there is anything you guys reading can take from this, I hope it will be this: Don't settle in life. Be hungry to better yourself, and be the best person you can be. The only person stopping you is yourself.

Again, I'm sorry that it is so long. When I wrote the first part I have had a few drinks, and when I got home I continued drinking lol. I could condense it but, I'm not going to due to the fact that it was a pure reaction of it all. The puzzle coming together if you will. Thanks for reading!

(TL;DR) Boss lied about giving me a raise, I stole his work right from under him by befriending the owner of the company that pays him 90% of his income.

(source) story by (/u/TheAwesomeAustin)

#prorevenge #by /u/TheAwesomeAustin #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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krogerfeedbackuniverse-blog · 5 years

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Ten Extraordinary Things about Kroger

Kroger is presently greater and more productive than such retail legends as Target (NYSE: TGT) and Sears (NYSE: SHLD), which possesses Kmart and Walgreen (NASDAQ: WBA). On Jan. 31, 2015, Kroger revealed incomes of $108.47 billion; around the same time Target detailed incomes of $72.62 billion, and Sears announced incomes of $32.2 billion while Walgreen revealed incomes of $77.52 billion on Nov. 30, 2014. Truth be told, just three American retailers accomplish more business than Kroger: Walmart, which revealed incomes of $485.65 billion on Jan. 31, 2015; Costco, which announced incomes of $115.64 billion on Feb. 28, 2015 and drugstore administrator CVS Health (NYSE: CVS), which detailed incomes of $139.37 billion on Dec. 31, 2014. CVS's incomes are so immense on the grounds that it has an enormous solution handling business notwithstanding its drugstores. Truly intriguing that Kroger continues getting greater; its income developed by almost 10% (8.55% to be careful) during 2014. Interestingly, Walmart's income developed by only 1.43% during a similar period and Costco's by 4.36%.

Kroger now works 3,727 stores that utilize around 375,000 individuals in 37 states. Those stores incorporate 2,619 general stores, 782 comfort stores and 326 adornments stores.[1] Kroger likewise works 37 sustenance preparing and assembling plants and 36 circulation focuses to supply those stores with items. Each one of those areas give Kroger 161.7 million square feet of retail space. That is what could be compared to around 280,000 NFL guideline football fields.[2] The workforce in those stores is presently so huge that Kroger needs 300 distinctive association understandings to keep up work harmony. Around 94% of Kroger's business originates from sustenance. The rest originates from medicines, gems and fuel deals.

Kroger is presently the country's third biggest administrator of filling stations in the United States. As of September 18, 2014, Kroger worked more than 2,000 filling stations in 37 states. Those stations included 1,330 grocery store fuel focuses and 725 comfort stores.[4] Convenience stores worked by Kroger incorporate Loaf N' Jug, Kwik Stop, TomThumb, Quick Stop and Turkey Hill. Truly fascinating that Kroger has just been selling gas since 1983 and just offering fuel at its general stores since 1998. However an ongoing Market Service overview found that Kroger is presently America's preferred gas retailer. Kroger sold $19 billion worth of fuel in 2013.[5] One purpose behind this is the organization's massively famous dependability card program, which gives clients a chance to spare 10¢ a gallon on gas for each 100 points they procure on the card. A client procures one point for each $1 in food supplies in buys at a Kroger general store.

Kroger works 25 diverse grocery store chains in various pieces of the nation, including: Ralph's (California), Harris Teeter (North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, South Carolina, Maryland, Delaware, Florida, Georgia and Washington, DC), Smith's (Nevada, Idaho, Montana, Utah and Wyoming), King Soopers (Colorado and Wyoming), Scott's Food and Pharmacy (Indiana),[6] Fred Meyer (Pacific Northwest and Alaska),[7] City Market (Colorado, Utah, New Mexico and Wyoming), Fry's Food and Drug (Arizona), Bakers' (Nebraska), Food 4 Less (California, Illinois, Indiana, Nevada, and Nebraska), Owens (Indiana), Dillons (Kansas and Missouri), Foods Co (California), Gerbes (Missouri), Price Rite (New Mexico), JayC Food Stores (Indiana), Pay Less Super Markets (Indiana), QFC Quality Food Centers (Oregon and Washington State), and Kroger (Ohio, Michigan, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, West Virginia, Texas, Virginia, Michigan and Florida).[8] That implies Kroger may work in your neighborhood or town, and you probably won't know it.

Staple goods are by all account not the only things you can purchase at Kroger stores. The Fred Meyer[10] and Kroger Marketplace[11], Dillons Marketplace, Fry's Marketplace, Smith's Marketplace and King Soopers Marketplace[12] stores sell gadgets, adornments, furniture, , office furniture, attire, equipment, paint, garden things, office supplies, little apparatuses and toys, among different things. That implies Kroger is one of only a handful couple of spots where you can purchase a TV set, a wedding band, a head of lettuce, a wedding cake and a gallon of milk around the same time. Brands sold at Fred Meyer incorporate Sony, Nike, Kitchen Aid, Adidas, Nikon, Dockers and Apple.[13] At the Kroger Marketplace, you can likewise buy gourmet cheddar and crisp sushi. On the off chance that that isn't sufficient, Kroger additionally works 326 adornments stores under the names Littman Jewelers[14] and Fred Meyer Jewelers.[15] Some of these stores are situated inside markets; others are independent areas in shopping centers. Fred Meyer is currently the country's third biggest chain of gems stores.[16] If you need, you can likewise request fine adornments from both Littman and Fred Meyer on the web. Kroger additionally works its very own remote phone organization, I Wireless.[17]

Kroger is the fifth biggest drugstore administrator in the United States with 1,947 drug stores working in its stores in 2013 and 2,111 drug stores in its stores in 2014. During 2013 Kroger filled 164 million medicines and sold $8.3 billion worth of doctor prescribed drugs.[18] Prescriptions are by all account not the only social insurance administrations you can get at Kroger; its Little Clinic backup worked 110 facilities giving fundamental therapeutic administrations given by attendant professionals and doctors' aides in 2013. Kroger wanted to open 55 all the more new Little Clinics in 2014.[19] That implies you can get a physical or an inoculation at a Kroger's grocery store just as a portion of bread.

To keep its stores provided, Kroger worked an armada of 2,770 semi-tractors and 10,500 semi-trailers in 2013. That armada made 3,300 conveyances every day and drove right around 329 million miles in 2013.[20] Some of those trucks move stock over the United States and even lift a few things up from providers in Canada and Mexico. What's more, Kroger works armadas of littler HomeShop conveyance trucks in certain urban communities that convey food supplies, alcohol and different items legitimately to clients' homes.[21] Customers request the products on the web, and Kroger ships them straightforwardly from the store to the home or business.

Regardless of its size and degree, a standout amongst the most fascinating things is the spots that it doesn't work. There are no Kroger stores in a whole area of the nation—New England—and in two of the country's most crowded states: New York and Pennsylvania. There is only one Kroger store in the country's third most crowded state: Florida. Kroger is additionally missing from a portion of the country's most crowded metropolitan zones, including: New York City, Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, Buffalo, Milwaukee, Minneapolis-St. Paul, Miami-Fort Lauderdale, Orlando, Tampa-St. Petersburg, Des Moines, Jacksonville, Madison, Tulsa City, El Paso, San Antonio and Oklahoma City. That implies there is a great deal of space for Kroger just in the United States.

The state with the most Kroger areas is California, where the merchant works 335 stores. The second biggest number of stores is in Ohio, Kroger's home turf, where it works 212 stores. The state with the third biggest number of Kroger's areas is Texas, where there are 203 stores. The state with the least Kroger markets is Florida, which has only one Harris Teeter area. Curiously enough, there is at any rate one state where Kroger has a permit to work together yet no areas—Hawaii. On Feb. 27, 2015, The Pacific Business Journal announced that Kroger had enlisted as another business with the province of Hawaii. The paper likewise detailed that Kroger was searching for a Hawaii area.

Some Kroger stores can be gigantic. The multi-retail establishments that Fred Meyer works in the Pacific Northwest and Alaska can have up to 165,000 square feet of floor space. All that space empowers some Fred Meyer stores to convey in excess of 225,000 items under one roof.[23] Such a store contains a full market, a home improvement shop, a drug store, a shoe store, a dress store, a hardware store, a machine store, a bank and a home and greenhouse focus under one rooftop. Interestingly, the normal Marketplace store has somewhere in the range of 100,000 and 130,000 square feet of room. The normal general store in the United States is around 76,000 square feet in size.

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berniesrevolution · 6 years

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WASHINGTON POST

He had been afraid to go outside since his mother was detained in an immigration raid 14 days earlier, but now someone was pounding on the front door of their trailer. Alex Galvez, 12, waited until the knocking stopped and then cracked the door open to find a small flier left behind on the top step. He carried it into the kitchen and read it to his older sister. “Emergency giveaway outside the Post Office! Free food in your time of need!”

“I’m not going,” Alex said, once he’d finished reading the flier. It had been the promise of free doughnuts that enticed his mother and dozens of her co-workers out of the planting fields and into the break room that day, where instead they had been met by 200 federal agents with plastic handcuffs and guns. Alex folded up the flier and tossed it onto the table.

“I’m sorry, but I think you need to go,” said his sister, Estefany, 18. “We could always use the food.”

“No. I don’t want to.”

“We can’t hide in here forever,” she said, handing him an empty plastic bag. “I have to go to work. You’re the only one who can do it.”

Since the day of the raid, they had been staying in the trailer with a rotation of older relatives — two more children adjusting to a life without their parents as a result of U.S. immigration policies. Even as President Trump and his administration promise to reunite families separated by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) at the U.S. border, a similar crisis continues unabated within the country’s interior, where children are separated from their undocumented parents with little scrutiny and increasing frequency.

In the past few months, ICE has carried out the three biggest workplace immigration raids of the past decade, including one on June 5 at a nursery here in rural Ohio, where 114 gardeners, florists and other workers were detained and put into court proceedings for deportation. Many of them had lived for several years in a Norwalk trailer park of 74 homes known as Little Mexico, where now aid workers estimate that more than 90 children are missing one parent and at least 20 are left with no parent at all.

One of them is Alex, an American citizen like most children in the trailer park, with a wardrobe of Cleveland Cavaliers T-shirts and frosted tips dyed orange at the barbershop inside Walmart. He’d spent all 12 of his years in Norwalk, population 17,000, and for much of that time he’d lived in the trailer parks of Little Mexico, in a beige double-wide with his sister and mother, Nora Galvez, who first came to the United States in 1999. The air outside their trailer smelled of smoke and rubber from the neighboring pallet factory. The favorite community soccer field was in fact a gravel lot. But Alex knew every one of the 74 families in the two trailer parks, and he and his friends could wander freely on their bikes from one trailer into the next. Many people in conservative Norwalk regarded Little Mexico as an ugly annex, a place to be left alone, but to Alex that meant it had always felt peaceful and undisturbed.

Now he walked out of the trailer with his empty shopping bag into a scene that looked to him like something out of “Fortnite,” his favorite apocalyptic video game. There were gardens of dying flowers and trash cans overloaded with uncollected garbage. More than a dozen trailers had been abandoned in the hours after the raid, and many of them had windows left open or toys scattered in the yard. Five residents of Little Mexico had been deported, and 34 others remained in detention, including Alex’s mother. Several more residents had packed up and fled Ohio that night, after a rumor spread that ICE was also planning to raid the trailer park. Those who remained were mostly out of a job or too afraid to go to work, and after two weeks of unpaid bills, some had also lost their electricity.

(Residents of the Jefferson Trailer Park gather to receive donated food, clothing and diapers in Norwalk, Ohio. The park, known locally as Little Mexico, is populated almost entirely by immigrants from the Mexican state of Chiapas.)

A ghost town,” Alex called it, as he made his way toward the one-room post office at the center of the park, but what bothered him more than the rows of darkened trailers was imagining what might be happening inside. He had heard about the 27-year-old who mysteriously stopped eating or speaking in the days after his sister was detained in the raid, eventually dying in the hospital a week later. He knew about the 23-year-old who had become suicidal after his girlfriend’s family decided to flee for Mexico, hanging a noose outside of his trailer until a relative took him to a hospital.

On the exterior walls of the post office, Alex saw a few new brochures for suicide hotlines and free mental-health counseling. A few dozen people were gathered outside, mostly children, young mothers and several volunteers from local nonprofit organizations. One of them handed out crayons and bubbles to children. A woman distributed crates of eggs from the back of her truck. A nurse checked residents’ blood pressure. Volunteers came up to Alex offering pizza, milk, vegetables and books, until he began to politely wave them away.

“We’re fine,” he said. “We don’t really need much.”

“Are you alone now?” one volunteer asked, and Alex shook his head.

“I’m with my sister,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for his shoulder, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening to you. It’s unthinkable.”

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s okay. I’ve been through it before.”

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #washington post #immigration #ICE #abolish ICE #mass deportation #Mass Incarceration

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crazyendeavors · 4 years

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Remote work and a million other things

We worked from the trailer today and attempted to make a little distance. We got to try out what we had been planning and some things worked well and others need improvement.

What works:

The dinette space holds both our office set ups

The baby has enough toys/stations/entertainment

The aeropress makes good coffee

Doggos have enough space and toys

Food prep has been good

10 minute group clean has kept our spaces usable

Nothing works without coffee so it's a good thing the coffee press works. We got the aeropress off our local Buy Nothing site from a friend. We had been looking for a small percolator and when this came up it was perfect: small, quick, and durable! I LOVE Buy Nothing groups.

Doggos have enough room to lie down, stretch, play, and go lie down in another spot. That’s all they really want to do anyways. Add a few walks (with wayyyy more new, interesting smells) and they are pretty happy doggos.

What needs improvement:

Our pack-up and get-out system needs to be quicker

Artie needs more desensitization training

Avoiding paying for two nights and using one at campsites

We did run into a bit of schedule issue. Our plan so far has been to work regular east coast hours until 5 PM, drive for at least a few hours, and then camp. This in itself works fine. The trouble comes in when you consider where we are going to spend the night. If it’s at a campground, they have check-out times like hotels and, even if you can request a late check-out, no one is too enthralled with letting us check-out 4 hours after the cut-off.

We are still working on planning this a little better/seeing what campgrounds wouldn’t mind us leaving particularly late. One solution has been using the truck stop and Walmart parking lots for our layovers. As long as we have an RV pump and dump station every 3 days, we can use these to avoid paying double for a space every night. If we have to pay double every three nights, so be it.

Poor Artie is a bit of a hot mess when it comes to riding in the truck. She’s happy to jump in there and does relax while in transit but is incredibly prone to barking... when we stop... when we fill gas... when someone walks by... when she sees a deer... when she thinks she sees a deer... She’s just a little bit too reactive. Time for more training... in all our spare time.

Chicken tacos for lunch :D

876/2934 miles

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fabulessdeal · 4 years

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Walmart has Kid Trax Toddler Ride-On Heavy Hauling Truck with Trailer (blue) for $49. Shipping is free. about this item: Authentic pick up truck design with detachable tow-along trailer Trailer is perfect for bringing your favorite toys along for the ride Realistic truck bed is a great compartment for snacks or more toys Easy push-button drive system is designed for little hands and arms Safe top speed of 2 MPH Power Trax rubber traction strip tires keep the ride smooth and steady Comes with a 6-volt rechargeable battery and wall charger so the fun never has to stop! Sits one rider 18 months

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woodedhoodedfairies-blog · 6 years

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My Little Pony

I just washed and shampooed this G1 (generation 1) beauty for my 7 month old, Aurora...which means I really did it for myself, and it was glorious! I was so into my ponies as a little girl. I loved my grandpa Pat more, of course, but they remind me of him. I don't remember my grandma buying those sorts of things. She ordered books and tapes and rarely took me out shopping. But my grandpa Pat would come by the house where my grammy ran a home daycare. He was so tall, tramping through the trailer like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk. I always thought that he didn't quite fit, but I was happy he had come. He was about to rescue me. With a proud grin, he would say that I was his buddy and whisk me off for adventures. We went everywhere, sometimes on his Goldwing (that's a motorcycle). Back then, I rode in front for a brief time and then was somehow entrusted to ride behind, and I was under age 5! We waved at all the cops too; he was retired from the force. Those were the days. He also used to buckle me up in the pickup truck, which smelled like..oil and tools (so good!), and take me to Walmart in Farmington, which was a rare treat. I had a mental map of where the toy section was like all kids do. Sometimes we were just there to give everyone a "hard time," because Grandpa knew everybody. He would joke, and I would wave and say thank you or proudly display my age on my fingers; and I vaguely remember curtsying (I was 2 or 3 maybe). I got the impression we were an entertaining gig. Sometimes, we just walked through to see the bikes or pick up some garden stuff. Sooooometimes--I got to pick something out from the whole glittering, pastel-colored, perfectly wonderful display of ponies!! And I would spend days playing make-believe in the garden, drawing horses, and brushing their hair with that tiny comb. It never got old. My cousin Delayne and I shared a love of these things. We'd play in the lava rocks around great grandma's garden--which was just across a field, nestled up against her real-life lincoln-log house--because the rocks had neat little holes in them. That spot under the shade of the Cottonwood was the perfect setting to let your imagination run wild! Anyway,

this pony, which is the only one I have, still smells like peppermint. Those scents were amazing. Great marketing, right? Anybody else have a mom or grandma that saved their ponies for them? Would you buy them again just for the smell???

#mylittleponyparty #nostalgia #babesintoyland #dreamingofyesteryear #childrenofthe80s

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letterstochristopher · 7 years

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Letters to Chris. April 19th. Day 11.

Hey Buddy,

Dad got home this evening with all your stuff. It’s hard to explain the emotions as I walked down the driveway to the trailer. Fear. Anxiety. Heartache. But also I was so ready to see your things. Things you held. Things you hung up on your walls and wore and slept with. Things that were YOURS. I quickly found your cowboy hat we bought you in South Dakota that you are wearing in one of my favorite childhood photos. The one of you in the cul de sac pretending to be a cowboy, getting ready to draw your fake gun. That’s coming with me.

I never thought I’d find myself looking for a dirty shirt of yours to wear. Ever. But that’s exactly what I did tonight. I just need a shirt that smells like you. What’s weird is everything smells like Febreze. I learned how you had quite the love affair with it (Katrina told me story of how you ran to Walmart for some groceries, and came out with a steak, two packages of Oreos, regular for you and double-stuffed for her, and Febreze. That’s probably the most Chris thing I’ve ever heard. PS…who doesn’t like Double-stuffed Oreos??). I found a few shirts to cuddle with out of your hamper: a camouflage henley, a flannel American Eagle shirt I gave you for Christmas one year (I was so damn happy to see you were still wearing it. Did you think of me whenever you put it on?), your Army PT shirt and a random green tshirt that was on top. I put on the green one for bed and didn’t pay attention to what was on the front until I looked into the bathroom mirror. Big letters across the front say “IRELAND 01.” I’ve been telling Clay since April 9th I thought you would like some ashes released in Ireland, where you always wanted to go since your father was Irish. But I wasn’t 100% sure, so yesterday I asked you to let me know. I believe this is your answer. So I’m taking you to Ireland with me, Little Bro. Mom saw the shirt and she smiled-she had given it to you on your birthday when you were home last month. And apparently you’re wearing it in a pic a friend of yours posted on Facebook. You have a ton of clothes. I think it’s pretty neat that I was able to find the one I gave you and this Ireland one. Even if they do all smell like Febreze and not you.

I’m also cuddling with your firefighter blanket right now. It’s absolutely massive and, from what I hear, one of your favorites. I’ll be sleeping with it, your shirts, your ACU cap that still has your name velcroed on it (so grateful the National Guard allowed us to keep your caps), your stuffed toy puppy you’ve had since childhood and your Coca Cola jacket you wore for work. There’s so much more down there. Dad was able to bring home most of your stuff (just some furniture that couldn’t fit was donated to a local church). I wanted to bring up entire boxes of things to surround myself with in bed. But I know Mom would have a really hard time with that. Before Dad got home, we had the following conversation:

Mom: “Hey, Jenn. I know when your dad gets home, you’re going to want to go through all of Chris’ stuff and take things. But I need you to know that I’m going to need organization. I just will. I can’t just go through his things and not have any order.”

Me: “But I’m going to want to keep some things.”

Mom: “I know. And you will. But I’m just telling you because I know it’s going to be hard for you not to tear through stuff. There are things I need to do. I want to wash his clothes for him. You kids always washed your own clothes, but I never minded doing it. It’s always been a way for me to take care of you all. I want to be able to wash your brother’s clothes. It’ll make me feel like I’m taking care of him.”

And then she started sobbing again, and Nikea and I wrapped our arms around her. She just seems so tiny now. I’m trying to make sure she’s eating. Mom’s always been good about taking care of herself. But she has lost weight, and I worry about her. I know the toll this is all taking on me, and I’m younger. She’s lost so many people, been through so much in her life. She’s a survivor. I know this, but i also know how awful grief and cortisol is on the body. I just need her and Dad to be okay. And obviously Nikea. But Nikea’s always been so tough, has always been more stoic than me. She’s so strong, and doesn’t cry in front of people often; she just has more control. She’s always mostly been a mad crier (the only times she’d cry when we were little is when we’d piss her off). But I’ve seen it a few times since I’ve been home, once because of something I wrote in here about you not being at her wedding. She walked into the dining room where I was sitting and said how she hadn’t even thought about her wedding next year. She’s been so focused on how to get through each day it hadn’t dawned on her that you wouldn’t be there. That realization hit her hard.

And Dad. He’s the most stoic of us all. But I could tell the last four days have especially worn him down. No father should have to pack up his son’s apartment for this reason. As I was poking through your things (don’t tell Mom), he came down to make his rum and diet. “I told your mother I don’t normally drink this late. But tonight felt like a good night to make an exception.” I was grateful to have the company. I missed his strong quiet presence. We talked about you, obviously. About his trip, and all the incredible people who offered to lend helping hands. Your landlord cleaned up your apartment, boxed most of your stuff up and had it all stacked neatly waiting for Dad. Dad said this saved him an entire day’s worth of work. Your landlord also cleaned so Dad wouldn’t have to see reminders of Saturday night. I’m not sure what all he did, but I do know he removed your couch like I said before. That thought still makes me sick (honestly, I’m so surprised I haven’t been physically ill; I’ve been nauseous and dizzy so many times). Then your old supervisor’s wife came to help Dad load up the truck. Did you know your old Coca Cola buddies had a get-together for you? Of course Dad came, and they all shared stories about you. Mom and I called in and Dad put us on speakerphone, and I tried to thank them for everything. I couldn’t get the words out. I hate how I can’t control it. I’ll have to ask Dad what they talked about.

In your stuff, we also found your Harry Potter poster. The Half-Blood Prince. I remember it hanging it your room when you lived at home. Hey remember when Dad would read you Harry Potter before bedtime? You actually discovered Harry Potter before me. I watched it at Mom’s house in Nebraska one night…taking a chance on a movie I’d never seen before in 2002. I instantly fell in love and told you about it. That’s when you informed me there were four books out, and you were reading them. I was so excited. I remember reading to you on the bottom bunk of your bed one night, and trying to do the English accents. I remember like it was yesterday. It was fifth book, The Order of the Phoenix, and it was the part with the boggart and Mrs. Weasley. Remember, when Harry walked in on her trying to get rid of it and it kept transforming into her family’s dead bodies because she was so terrified of losing her loved ones? That’s fucking ironic. But regardless, I love that memory. My attempts at the English accents were I’m sure awful. You didn’t say anything until I asked, but you admitted you preferred I read without them. I was so disappointed. And hey, do you remember when you told me Sirius Black died before I finished Order of the Phoenix? I was so so mad at you.

The one thing I can’t stand is your gun being here. THE gun. The police released everything to Dad…your phone, your wallet, the glock…everything sealed neatly in evidence bags. Dad said he didn’t want to make any hasty decisions so took everything they gave him. I wonder if the clothes you were wearing are here, too. I doubt they would have given Dad those, actually. For obvious reasons. (I got so scared while unloading your couch pillows. I was praying I wouldn’t see anything on them…but then I saw a big sticky stain. I looked closer-I just had to. But I think it was food. Thank Jesus). But the gun. I hate it. I fucking hate it. That gun killed my baby brother. It took you away from us forever. Dad said that it wasn’t the glock that did it. It was you. And while know he’s right, I still hate it. Maybe if you didn’t have guns you would have tried another way. But then maybe they would have gotten to you in time. Or maybe you would have suffered. I guess it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. You’re gone.

I talked to our real mom today (I always hate saying that-we have two real moms, but you know what I mean). She had left a message while I was sleeping, and she sounded so damn sad it scared me. I mean, I know she’s going to be sad. But now I’m so afraid for anyone who is battling depression, whether chronic or situational. She said she has been reading up on Reactive Attachment Disorder because of my first post, and I could just tell she was blaming herself. I called her back, and Mom and Nikea came into the room and we all talked on speakerphone. It was so good to speak with her. She was reminiscing about how you were such a sweet and sensitive little boy. I remember. And I know she, like me, wants nothing more than to go back, hold that little boy close and tell him everything will be okay. Back when you were CJ, wore your humongous glasses and loved to be read to every night. She has the biggest heart, and loves us all so much. I know you loved her, too. Guilt is a horrible thing, and you can beg someone to forgive themselves until you’re blue in the face, but ultimately it’s up to them. I just hope and pray she can realize that she, like you, is so worthy of love. That has always been our biggest struggle…yours, hers and mine. I also talked to Grandpa Ward and briefly to Jeanie. Grandpa was your biggest cheerleader. It was wonderful to hear his voice. I haven’t talked with him in so long. It’s crazy how time gets away from you, and before you realize it two years have passed since you spoke with someone. I promised him that would never happen again. If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s to value every second my loved ones spend on this earth. How easy is it for us to take each other’s presence for granted. I am determined to make sure I have no more regrets when it comes to the people I love. I can’t go through this again.

On Saturday, Mom and Dad are driving up to Mexico to tell Bethany what happened. Even though she’s mentally handicapped, she understands the concept of death. Mom is scared she may hurt herself if she knows the whole story, so said she may just say you had cancer. I mean, you basically did. Mental illness eats away at you just like cancer, slowly killing you. So yeah. It works. I’m trying to decide if I can go with them, or if I should go to Sedalia and visit Grandma, Grandpa, Sue, Sayre and Sayre’s new baby. I haven’t seen Bethany since Christmas, but it’s going to be awful telling her our brother died. I don’t know what to do. I dread how she’s going to obsess over what happened. It’s been years, and she still brings up our dog, Toby, dying. I just know she’s going to keep signing “CJ died. CJ died. CJ died.” And I’ll tell her to stop, but she won’t. She just won’t understand that we won’t want to constantly talk about how you’re gone. I’ll just have to be patient, and understand she doesn’t want to hurt anyone by bringing it up nonstop. I just have such a low frustration tolerance right now.

I’m still angry with you. I don’t know when that’s going to go away. I know it’s a stage of grief, and I’m assuming it’s more pronounced in this kind of situation. I’ve been reading how suicide survivors experience an extreme number of difficult emotions trying to make sense of their loved one’s actions. The book I’m reading now is helping shed light on it. But there’s not a lot out there on this. It’s a difficult subject to talk about. Who wants to discuss suicide? But it HAS to be talked about. People always talk about breast cancer. They have fundraisers for it. What about what killed you and thousands upon thousands of others every year? Why doesn’t society talk more about that? What happens to the families after. What they feel. The devastation. The confusion and anger. The guilt. It’s eating me up inside. The unrelenting brutal heartache of knowing you were sitting at home thinking about things that tore you apart. The constant questioning. I keep telling myself you weren’t miserable all the time. You had moments of happiness. But it wasn’t enough.

Do you know what’s really cool, though? We’ve had several of your friends reach out. I just want to hug all of them. They loved you and miss you, and I don’t know if they realize how much they help with their sweet words about you. Man, you were loved. Did you know? But now I’m asking myself if you really loved ME. You didn’t talk to me about so many things. You would say you were struggling, but wouldn’t give me specifics. In every text that I said “I love you,” you didn’t repeat it. I just can’t stop wondering now. Did you love me? Did you?? I know I had forgotten your birthday…I was so focused on trying to solve what was going on with my health, all the while trying to find jobs and move out of our friends’ basement, that I literally have been battling my own fears and major depression this past year. I don’t forget birthdays. And yours AND Dad’s slipped my mind. That’s never happened before. But now I can’t forgive myself. I just can’t. I know that’s not why you did it. But I still hate myself for it. I’m so sorry, Chris. I just need to know that you love me and forgive me. Please.

Love you, Buddy. Now and always. I’m so sorry.

#suicide #grief #grief and loss #griefsupport #suicidesurvivors

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227snewfacebookfries · 6 years

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