I spent a great deal of time sitting in closets fantasying that this little spilt level in the suburbs had secret passages that I could access and be safe and free. I had forgotten about my fantasies until we moved back here a couple of years ago to supposedly take care of my aging father (except he is too stubborn to accept help, so all we do is fight). Shortly after we settled in, I began to remember, "Oh, I used to sit in this closet." "Oh, I squeezed into this closet." Little by little the memories came back. It was an uncomfortable feeling.
Then I began to remember some of what I was hiding from. I don't think it is anything dramatic. I don't think I was sexually abused, but I certainly was neglected and went through a good about of emotional abused. Mine was not a happy childhood.
However, I didn't come here to whine. My childhood is part of my story, it isn't the whole thing. I have come to terms with it and I am not my story. I really feel that I have moved past it and dropped those bags.
What is on my mind today is my job. I love my job. Being a hospice chaplain is such an honor. What concerns me is that it appears to be evaporating before my eyes. Budget cuts. Medicare oversight. I believe that hiring per diem chaplains was an experiment to begin with and now I think they are looking closely at the idea and deciding that it really isn't cost effective. Hence, I have been pared down to six patients, three visits a week. Not a lot of money. It's far less than I was making.
The powers that be say that full time chaplain must carry a patient load of sixty patients. If the census is only at 85, which it isn't even that at the moment, then that leaves twenty-five for me and the other per diems to split, assuming the patients all what spiritual care... which they don't. I think the higher ups feel that the full time chaplain should handle it all and if she can't then maybe they will start looking at whether they need her or not.
So, I worry about my job. There isn't anything I can do about it. I just have to ride this wave and see where it lands, but it leaves me stuck in this house with no privacy, no room and no where to go.
It's an opportunity for me to expand my ministry in some fashion. I would like to do a wedding or two. I love love to get some funerals to do too. I would dearly love to do spiritual counseling. So, this lack of work is an opportunity for me to branch out into those areas, only today I am feeling sorry for myself. I'm still in my pajamas. I thought of going out, but I can't think of anywhere to go. So, I am moping. Tomorrow, I will see a couple of patients and start to really think this through. But, today... I mope.
I spent several hours on Facebook looking through friend lists trying to locate people that I knew from the kibbutz. I found quite a few people and a I did some walking down memory lane. It's funny how people don't age in your memory. They always stay the same as when you them, but I saw how much they all aged, some worse than others. But, we are all getting old. I can't really say that I miss Israel all that much, I certainly don't miss the kibbutz. The kibbutz was a dead end for me. It was for Jon and Adrienne too. So, I'm not sorry that we left. Honestly, there weren't many people there that I would even want to see again. But, it was fun looking through all of the profiles and reading about what they are doing, etc. I know that life on my kibbutz is nothing like when we were there- I'm not really sure that it's officially a kibbutz any longer. I think many people work off of the kibbutz and perhaps keep their income, I don't know. But, it was good to catch up with these folks. I wonder how many of them remember us? Some I would suppose.
I don't like feeling useless and that's what I have felt this week. I will mope for a bit longer, but I need to find purpose and meaning soon. If my job doesn't pick up soon, I will need to come to a few decisions.
The time to meditate is now. Off to meditation I go. But, first I will get dressed.
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