She Didn't Even See Me

I got mail from the Child Support Division.

I cried.

I opened the mail while I was in the car and burst into tears.

I am just literally at my wits end with this entire thing. Three months now, three months Mr. Attorney Man and I have been chasing this issue around from office to office, the courthouse and back, only to get a new order approved, sent to the Child Support Division, and have it entered wrong again.

AGAIN.

This is me talking to Frisbee Boy's Mom

Allow me to give you a close up view (it was too hard to edit the pic in the screenshot). The pink form is the order from the courthouse, it's what I walked away with when I left court last month. The white copy is the way that the Child Support office entered it into their system.

Do you see what they did here?

The Child Support office took order from the courthouse, the pink one, and then they entered into their system with the "other" category combined with the "current child support," which is what you can see on the white copy. Why does that matter? Because the "other" category isn't my money. It's money that pays off the kids medical expenses and is currently being intercepted and taken by the state as reimbursement for my kids being on medicaid. Why does it matter if they combine them? Because child support is counted as income when I apply for benefits, the "other" category is not. When state benefit departments check with the Child Support office to see how much I am getting in child support, they are getting a number that is more than double what my court order is actually for. By doubling my income on paper (with money that I don't even get), it cuts me off of state benefits.

I cannot even believe this.

This is almost exactly what we went to court for last time and they did the same thing again.

I called the head of the Child Support office and was put on hold for ten minutes before the boss guy hung up on me. I called back 6 times, got no answer and eventually that same wonderful caseworker from last time called me back and basically told me that if I got a better job, then I wouldn't need to worry about petty stuff like this.

I have four jobs bitch.

Over the course of the last three months I have made more phone calls, office visits, and had more conversations with state employees than I would have ever expected to have in my entire lifetime, and each time I'm told the same thing "I can't help you, I don't have time to help you," and "if you got a better job or worked a little harder then you wouldn't need to worry about your benefits."

So what do I do? I call Mr. Attorney Man who tells me he will call them because "people will listen to me."

Now I know Mr. Attorney Man is just referencing the fact that his law degree can do a lot more damage than my lack of one, but it perfectly brings to light the underlying issue; they don't think I am anyone important.

(That's sarcasm about the beer & welfare check, in case you didn't catch that...)

And how does that make me feel?

Sad.

Sad because it feels like all the other times when my life was completely falling apart and no one cared enough to help me. Like when my own family didn't value me enough to help me escape my marriage or when the police ignored my pleas for help and I got raped.

It brings back every moment in my life when I was not worth the efforts of others, because in their eyes I was no one important.

And how does that make me feel?

Angry actually.

Because I'm not a nobody. 

But they don't see that.

To them I'm just another girl on welfare. I'm the girl who cleans the homes of people with "real" careers. I'm the girl whose husband left her, the single mom living under the poverty line. I'm just another person looking to suck the system dry. 

To them I'm nothing more than the information on my application.

And I could tell them. I could tell them that I spend most of my week working on my nonprofit, a career that will literally save lives. Would that be a little more respectable? If I tell someone that my career saves lives, would that make me someone important? Maybe, so maybe I could tell them that.

But I don't.

What if I tell them that I write for companies that have millions upon millions of readers? If they knew that I have fans, followers, and readers, would that make me someone important? Maybe if I told them that you are all here, that you like to hear the things I have to say, maybe then they would want to listen to me. Maybe I should tell them that.

But I won't.

I won't for the same reason that I still list "house cleaner" in the job application line of any forms that I fill out. 

I do it because I'm finally fine being nothing but what the person in front of me is able to see in me.

I do it because I no longer feel like I need a label that signifies importance, because the only labels that should matter are the one's I give myself.

And it hasn't always been like that.

I wasn't always fine with it and I still have moments when I'm not, but moments are fading and they too shall pass.

The other day I found myself trying to explain to that lovely caseworker that the order was entered wrong and what I heard next was "well Missy, maybe if you just got a better job then you wouldn't have to worry about petty details like this. Did you even go to college? I shouldn't even be wasting my time talking to you because this probably isn't even anything you will be able to understand." For a moment I thought about saying "Do you have any idea what I've been through? Do you have any idea what I'm doing because of it? Do you know that I'm trying as hard as I can to start a career out of a nonprofit that saves lives? Would you consider that a better job? Is that a little bit more respectable than being a housekeeper? Would that give me enough credibility to warrant a logical conversation with you? Because I'm working really hard to get this organization up and running and in fact, I'm pretty much in college right now, learning my trade and paving my future. Is that acceptable enough for you?"

But I didn't. 

Because she shouldn't need a reason to treat me like a human being.

She has no right to judge me.

My parents did a lot of things wrong, but in one aspect they did a lot of things right. I did not grow up in a poor family, my parents did quite well for themselves. We grew up in a good part of town and they never wanted us to think that our lives were the norm, so they pushed us into a lot of volunteer and missions work. We were not only exposed to, but also immersed in, a lot of things that caused me to really understand how situations do not make a person and that circumstances do not determine worth.

For those of you who haven't read my past posts, I've been on quite a few missions trips. As much as I would like to think that I was doing something good, the reality of the situation is that I gained so much more than I ever put in. 

I will never forget one family in particular. It was an elderly couple and they lived in the hills of the Appalachian mountains. I don't know if you are aware of the demographics and statistics of that area, but they aren't good. In fact 20/20 just ran a special called "Children of The Mountains" in which they documented exactly what I saw. A poverty rate of 3 times the national average, the shortest lifespan in the country, many people who aren't educated past elementary school, children birthing children, and a medical system that has completely failed the the members of Appalachian society. 

Do you know why it's like that? 

As one statistical analyst said "it's because they go largely unnoticed by the rest of the nation. No one even knows they are up there because they are considered disposable."

Bingo.

I've been all over the country on many different missions trips. I went down after hurricane Katrina and while it was devastating, it was pretty much what I was expecting. But when I was dropped in Appalachia, I was floored. FLOORED. People were living on the side of the mountains, in little shacks with no running water and no electricity. The house I was working on, it had no roof. 

That doesn't even make it a house. 

The family? Two senior citizens raising their two year old granddaughter. I'll never forget that little girl because she brought reality to the phrase "hair as white as snow." 

I'll never forget that family because despite their lack of education, toothless smiles, and 3rd world living conditions, they wanted nothing more than to make us happy while we were there. The grandfather was so old he could barely walk, but he stood outside a majority of our days asking if we needed anything and trying to help out where he could. He truly had nothing to give, but would offer whatever he could find.

Homeowner in the plaid shirt holding his granddaughter, his wife to the left with the white shirt and necklace

That was a hard trip, physically and mentally. The family was so poor that I would give them my lunch everyday. I knew that back at the work camp base I would get dinner, but them, I wasn't sure when they would eat again. In fact when I left, I left my entire suitcase and all it's contents behind, but what I took with me was so much more.

The last day we were there they ordered us a pizza.

Eating that pizza was one of the most humbling experiences of my life because I knew how much that cost them. It cost them the fact they probably wouldn't eat for a few days after we left. It cost them the fact that they didn't have toilet paper. It cost them so many sacrifices and yet the whole time my crew and I sat there eating this pizza, choking it down because we were trying so hard to choke back our tears, they sat there smiling.

Notice the homeowner on his front porch watching us eat 

They didn't eat, they refused to take a bite, but with each bite we took, their smiles grew larger.

They were happy to be able to give something to someone else. They were proud that they were able to show us what we meant to them. They gave up so much, because they wanted to show us what we meant to them. 

They wanted to show us our worth and in turn, they showed me theirs.

Worth these days has become so wrapped up in money, and titles, and fame, and things that we have mistakenly placed a ridiculous amount of value on.

Would the world really be a better place if it were filled only with rich celebrities and egotistical sports stars? If we eliminated everyone that didn't meet the criteria of societal worth, would we really be in a better place? 

Do compassion and humanity mean nothing anymore? Is self worth and your ability to contribute to the world really able to be quantified in dollar signs and letters after your name?

Every day people walk around and turn their noses up at people they don't feel are worth as much for no other reason than the face the they feel the other person isn't living a life as worthy as theirs.

They are no better than a modern day, less murderous version of Hitler. What would Auschwitz look like in 2015? Would we grab all the people who we don't think have much worth, lock them up, and then have them fill out an application to get out?

"What amount is currently in your savings account?"
"What college did you graduate from?"
"What is your job title?"
"Do you come from a wealthy family?"
"What zip code do you live in?"

Would you get a free pass if you were a doctor or a lawyer? Had more than one college degree? Were set to inherit a trust fund?

Who is judging these applications? Who is deciding how valuable a person is? How do we know what someone is worth on paper?

We don't.

If you ever got the chance to sit down with Mr. Attorney Man, he will tell you that besides the safety of the me and the kids, the main reason that I choose to write anonymously is that I don't ever again want to be in the spotlight. Over the course of the last year I've turned down multiple talk show offers in regards to this blog, because I don't want to be in the spotlight. I always tell Mr. Attorney Man "hey, I'll send you, but I don't want to go!" I don't want the fake friends and the pats on the back. I don't want to have to try and figure out if people like me for me, or if they like me because of my name. I don't want people thinking that I am "someone" just because I suddenly have a different title than "house cleaner." I've been used enough for one lifetime and the only people who I want surrounding me are people who love basic Eden; no labels, no titles, no frills, just me.

I am the same Eden whether I am cleaning houses, writing for 15 million readers, or writing "executive director" on nonprofit forms. The title doesn't make me, I make me.

So the Child Support Division doesn't think I'm anyone important and while I want to give this woman a reason to listen to me that is more than "please help me, I need help," I'm not going to give it to her because she doesn't deserve it, and I deserve better.

My apparent lack of worth, that is not a problem with me. That is a problem with her.

If you truly can find no value in someone, it's because you simply aren't looking hard enough.

I mean hello, I even complimented my parents in this post. 

When you judge the worth of another, you are really judging the worth of yourself, because what you see in people, is only a reflection of how hard you are willing to look.

Circumstances make a lifestyle, but characteristics make a person. 

So Child Support doesn't care to see me for who I am and yes, that makes me sad, but not for me, but for them. Because at the end of the day, at the end of my life, I really saw this world and all the amazing people that are in it. And them, over there, they only saw what they wanted to see and what they saw, it wasn't much.

Just like Hitler, you can't simply write off people that you don't think matter, just because you don't think they matter.

We all matter. 

Regardless of the skin we are in, the shape that we are, the number in our bank account, or the degrees hanging on our wall; we all matter, we all have worth.

The Child Support caseworker I've been dealing with, she had no right to talk to me the way she did. She has no right to judge me in the same way that she isn't allowed to throw racist comments at me or judge me by my gender, because I am more than what she thinks she sees.

Success and value are not one in the same, they are two separate and unique entities, each worthy in their own right.

So I'm not as successful as the caseworker would like me to be, but I would have to say that neither is she, because while she may be surrounded by her desk, she is blind beyond it's view.

At the end of the day, at the end of your life, nothing matters but what you did with that life. The value of your actions do not lie within a degree, a title, or a bank account, they lie only in what you did with what you had.

A man is not made worthy by what he has, but rather by what he is willing to do with it, because worth does not come from what you have, value comes from who you are.

**If you want to see how the mission trip house turned out, click here. **