Moving. For GOOD! ❤️

Hi, Loved Ones,

Many of you have inquired what the latest is on your favorite little, lost lamb.

I’m not a lamb, I’m a damn lion!! And I’m not really lost; but, my GPS got the wrong address, and I am proceeding to the route, as Siri will admonish till you get it right. And even though I switched Siri’s voice to a smooth talking brother, I still got the directions wrong and ended up in some janky-assed dead-end!

So here is what is up. If you love me, keep reading.

I lived in a sober living environment (SLE), after leaving Olympia House rehab, where I began the work of recovery from my alcohol addiction (genetically predisposed and circumstantially activated–you know this!). I was there for four and a half months.This work continues, and is now a central part of my life. I imagine it always will be, and I am growing incrementally, more solid on these two feet, in this new skin. I love it!

I lived at the SLE for about seven months after that, then I was DONE living with 15 women of varying ages, backgrounds, agendas, and general life skill capacities (I did learn a lot about jail, though). I had a solid foundation, and it was time to move on. I felt great! And made wonderful friends.

I took a room with a man and his son, in a rental house, in Sebastopol. I chose to have roommates because I wanted space, I wanted to grow food, and I really don’t mind other people, so long as they are kind and responsible. The market offered nothing but places that cost half of what I now make per month (in my new job as a teacher at a residential rehab for teen girls). And no pets. Anywhere! Unless you’re looking for crickets.

I moved, but too soon, into a situation that has turned out to be awful. I don’t drop the word lightly. I DID plant a garden that will be throwing out food as the summer rolls on, and that was an investment of time, labor, and hope.But you know, it’s ok to believe in people; it just doesn’t always work. You cannot do it for someone else.

Two weeks in, the environment became toxic. The relationship between father and son, and the situation overall, is not what was presented, and for a person in new recovery (close to six months…again!) it is all emotionally, physically, spiritually, and mentally dangerous for me. The son relapsed, and has committed felony crimes by stealing from his own dad, and his own job.They have a painful dynamic that predates me, and to quote a wise ringmaster:

“Not my circus, not my monkey.”

The behavior makes it hard for me to sleep here. Neither person is working on themselves, while I am working harder on myself than I have ever worked at anything. For those of you who've done twelve step work, you know it requires daily practice and time, and on top of a new, full time job, and still waiting for health insurance to kick in, I am not getting what the absent doctor ordered.

I had not worked for pay in a year. I never got disability, because of the system teachers pay into. I worked as a teacher in CA for 18 years, and you have to show that you are nearly about to die for a solid year before you can touch any of the money you have earned. They won’t let you take a piece of your retirement, and if you cash the whole thing in, you lose your pension. So, I used up whatever I had, got a small loan initially to pay for my SLE and life, and then finally moved and got a new job, when I thought it was right. And now, because of this dangerous and unexpected living situation, I have to move again. I would not reach out if the need was not real. I’d practically feed on my fingernails before asking for help. But I am.

Joe sought a barn and workshop space for his own needs, and found this gem of a place that solves his desires! Amazingly, right across the path, is a one bedroom house with my name written all over it. It’s in a safe community, where I can have all the things I initially wanted, and the landlord heard my story. He also has connections in the recovery community, and he gets it. I told him I am really starting over. I am. And I would not be in this position, if I had not JUST moved, or if I had more groundwater to draw upon. And because we found it before it hit the market, we won’t have to compete against those with money to spare. Time is crucial.

If you’re even reading this, you know I’m a love warrior. So I’m just asking for your pocket change . I believe in you believing in me. Almost every day, I throw a buck into the basket of AA, and my spare change into the hospital and institutions container. I’ve thrown charity events you can read about if you scroll past the painful and embarrassing stuff that happens with google. Half true, and no longer relevant!

Today, I’m the basket!

The place is mine/ours, though Joe works down on the Peninsula, and this is not about us moving in together. It’s two spaces. I would not be alive were it not for that precious man, and it’s amazing that this opportunity has manifested, even if the circumstances that brought it to light have been extraordinary and difficult.

I have to come up with a bunch of money at once, to hold my spot here, and these spots are one in a billion. Believe me, I have looked.

I need a home, to make sure this new iteration of a healthy life can unfold. I don't have any savings, no inheritances, and nothing of noteworthy value to sell. I need new tires for my car; I have British teeth, and sixteen feet to care for, too, for crying out loud. But I do have friends and family, and we always said, “If you ever need anything…”

I have to make this happen, and like sobriety, I cannot do it alone. So I am setting up a gofundme, and I am asking my loved ones to help me, just a little.. The end product is a happy, healthy Teags, who lives a life of love and service to others.

There are obviously a LOT more details I can share. And I don’t want to put this on facebook because my fragile (yet robust!) little spirit doesn't need commentary from the masses. I am just asking that, if you can contribute some money to my life in this present moment, to help me continue launching myself as a force for good in the face of adversity, this complicated world will be a kinder place.

And, when I replant my garden, there will always be a place for you at my table, in my sweet little house.

With love, gratitude, and hope in all the powers that be.

Your little lion heart,

Teagen