Rolling Toward Home

By Suzan Schnitzius

Determined to keep her home, Suzan battles with the raging force of the recession trying to pull her under and defeat her. She decides to rent out two spare bedrooms in her house. Hilarity ensues as her zany new roommates increase Suzan’s income but challenge her sanity. Suzan clings to a childhood dream of exploring the world. Can she find a new home in the process? Travel to nine different countries on three continents and learn about different cultures as Suzan shares her personal experiences with you. Laugh along with Suzan on her many adventures as she discovers what “home” really means in this humorous and poignant memoir.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781365898662

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Rolling Toward Home

Rolling Toward Home

Suzan Schnitzius

Copyright © Suzan Schnitzius

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2017

ISBN  978-1-365-89866-2

Suzan Schnitzius

www.suzanschnitzius.org

[e-mail]

Dedication

I would like to thank Sue Melling, Patrick Jay Schnitzius, Peter and Betty Nichols for their encouragement and critique.

To all the people I’ve met on the road, Thank you! You have added spice to my life and filled my heart with joy. My life is enriched because you are a part of it.

The characters in this book are real people.

Their names have been changed to protect their privacy.

CHAPTER 1

America has had many recessions, I just happened to get caught up in the last one. Whatever age we are, taxes must be paid and mine were coming due. There was no money to pay them.  There were thousands of Americans who were in the same dilemma. I was fortunate enough to have the comfort of Cosmo, a Ninja Silky Terrier King, and Maizey, a ginger-colored Pomeranian mix. Both dogs had become members of the family years before. That was in 2003 before even a hint of the recession had seeped into the psyche of our great Nation. Living 84 miles away, my children were enjoying their own lives and doing well.  For the first time in my life, I was completely alone. I lived in a small home on Lake Tawakoni. The back lawn of the lake house sloped down to a small pier. If you stood at the kitchen window you could see the sunlight dancing across the water. You would hear Bluebirds sing from perches in a massive oak tree next to the window. But my vision and hearing were shrouded in self-pity. Why am I here? What am I good for? I have no one to share my ideas and joys with. I have no children or husband to take care of. Blah, blah, whine, whine.  Suffering from empty nest syndrome is not uncommon under the circumstances, and I did what many others had done before me. I bought a furry companion. Cosmo came into my life as a tiny puppy. He was about eight inches long. He looked like a tiny Ewok. Silky Terriers have the same coloring as the Yorkie breed, but they grow up to be larger and sturdier. Cosmo frolicked into my world bringing laughter and joy. Maizey soon followed, and we three became Pack. Dogs are always ready listeners. They don’t judge. Having them eased the loneliness. I came to depend on them more and more each day.

Cosmo and Maizey had moved with me to Dallas. I had taken the profits from selling my lake house and bought a fixer-upper in the Old Lake Highlands area of Dallas. Listening to the first rainstorm as it lifted the rolled roofing from an almost flat roof had Cosmo shivering in fear. Howling wind pushed water up underneath the inadequate structure onto the kitchen floor. Maizey hid under the bed. Cosmo followed her as soon as the first streak of lightning burned across the sky sending a loud crack vibrating down the very walls of our little cottage.

Gathering pots and pans to catch the rain, I heard a nagging evil voice inside my head, What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time? Oh, shut up, I thought while scooching a pot over two inches to catch a steady stream of water dripping from the ruined sheetrock on the ceiling. I named that voice inside my head, Evil Twin and she had a point, but the papers were signed and there was no backing out. Two weeks later the neighbors were complimenting my new higher pitched roof with lovely new shingles.

Many years of repairing and remodeling sat between the then and the now. Walls had been torn down and new ones built. Floors had been refinished. Much, much work and money had been invested. Neglected house are like abused animals, when you love them and take care of them, they forge links directly to your heart.  Knots of tension curled up inside me whenever I thought about losing my house. To ease that feeling I walked to the back of the house and went out the back sliding glass door to get some fresh air.

Cosmo and Maizey welcomed me as I sat on the top step of the small porch. The house was built at the far back end of a curved lot. The front door actually faced the side of the lot. From the back porch, you could step down onto a very large graveled outdoor area. I called it my patio even though it wasn’t paved. Situated as it was, the back yard was actually the front of the lot. If you were sitting on the porch or on the patio, you could see almost the whole garden area. Lots were a quarter acre in my neighborhood, but my property sat on two lots. There had been nothing but dirt when the closing real estate papers were signed. My children had helped me plant trees and shrubs. (Would I be betraying them all if I couldn’t keep up with all my payments and lost the house?) Ten trees were wearing their fall colors; oranges, yellows, and brilliant reds looked back at me as if to say, We’ll still be here even if you have to go. Large evergreen Wax Myrtles stood sentry among the deciduous trees giving those bare branches a little cover when the winter came. (Of course, Texas doesn’t have much of a winter. If we get any snow at all we all stay home from work since nobody knows how to drive on the stuff.) The wooded area of my garden was about fifteen feet deep sporting a dog running path alongside the fence.

Maizey sat next to me surveying her domain while I held Cosmo in my arms. Silky Terriers don’t have fur they have very soft silky hair. Cosmo liked to nestle into the crook of my neck when I held him.  He pressed his little head up against my skin in the best dog hug ever known to man. Holding him was a balm for my aching soul. He loved me whether or not all the bills were paid. Unfortunately, my aching heart was not quite as important as truck chasing. Cosmo leaped out of my arms and took off across the lawn as soon as he heard the neighbor’s truck.

The daily routine played out while I sipped my coffee.

My neighbor drove alongside the curved edge of my lot every day on his way to work. Slowing down when his front fender was level with the start of my fence (located at the farthest corner of the back porch) he would roll his window down as he crept past the fence line. Come and get me Cosmo, he yelled from his open window. Cosmo pumped his little legs as fast as he could. That dog put his heart and soul into everything he did. Cosmo ran across the open expanse of lush green lawn at the exact angle to zip through one of the gateways in the decorative stone wall separating the wooded area from the lawn. Mulch flew as his feet churned up the small pieces of bark to deal with the task at hand.  As soon as Cosmo made it to the fence, my neighbor would speed up. The race was on! Cosmo had to make it to the big blue monster before he got to the dark fuchsia Crepe Myrtle else the world would come to an end. Cosmo took his job as guard and protector very seriously.

My neighbor laughed as Cosmo ran under the giant fig trees, two bee loving shrubs, and parked himself at the corner of the fence covered in Orange Crossvine. There, he stood his ground. No large wheelie blue beast would be coming into his paradise, not today. Ahhh, Cosmo’s paradise. The orange Crossvine was meticulously hand woven through the black chain link fence. It took diligence every single day. Since my back fence was level with everyone else’s front garden, I felt bad that it caused an eyesore in the neighborhood. It had taken several years to train the Crossvine to cover the fence. It was beautiful. The vine was evergreen. In the spring bell-shaped drooping orange blossoms covered the fence.

Gone. All would be gone from my sight if I lost my house. My throat constricted while moisture gathered in my eyes. Maizey looked up at me with those big brown eyes of hers and stilled the tears threatening to fall.

We are safe here on the back porch, Maizey’s eyes said. Maizey did not chase cars. Princesses do not stoop to such drudgery. She was the truck-is-coming siren and would bark igniting Cosmo into action. Once her job was done she would go sit underneath the large round metal mesh table surrounded by matching chairs. The outdoor dining area took up a tenth of the gravel patio.

The patio was large enough for a fire pit and chairs, two loungers, the grilling area, and a spot for a children’s play area that never got developed. The recession ate up the money for the swing set.  No matter how hard I tried to forget it, the recession loomed ever large and hungry. Every night news reporters tried to sort out the causes of the recession, and every day those of us affected by it tried to live through the consequences. It felt like the sadness was deeper, deeper than my understanding could take me. How does a 60-year-old woman get into this predicament? Shouldn’t a woman my age be living comfortably with her husband of 40 years? Shouldn’t I be happily ensconced in my home surrounded by a white picket fence? Shouldn’t I be looking forward to retirement, and taking a long cruise down the Danube? We don’t dwell on the shoulda, woulda, coulda’s of the world, my sponsor would say. What’s a sponsor? You might ask. You might not, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

My sponsor is a wonderful woman who has given me the nurturing and support that I didn’t get from any of the members of my dysfunctional family of origin. My father was an active alcoholic during my childhood. He got sober after I was grown by going through the Alcoholics Anonymous program. I joined the Al-Anon program a few years later. My program was created for the friends and families of AA members, which includes everyone in America. Both of the programs, in order for them to work, require getting a sponsor and working the 12 Steps. The sponsor is the person who helps you work those steps to gain the peace and serenity promised by the program.

Growing up with an alcoholic does not give a child basic tools to navigate adulthood. When you add the disease of Alcoholism into any family equation, you are going to get insanity. What was learned in my family, and what was not learned in my family was a part of my current predicament. Perhaps my ADHD also played a significant role. There were so many emotions swirling inside of me that I couldn’t focus on any one thing. Too many questions were popping into my head like speech bubbles in a cartoon. I would grab one trying to hold on long enough to ponder an answer and then POP!. Who am I? What do I want? Do I even want the great white-picked-fence American dream? Time is proving that my life choices were NOT fitting into the comfortable mold of standard cultural expectations. I needed help. Thankfully my sponsor was available when I called.

She recommended that I go to the next available 12 Step meeting.

Crap, I said to Cosmo when I got off the phone. He looked at me intently and tilted his head to one side. Being the most brilliant dog in the world, he understood human vocabulary. He recognized my favorite curse words and knew whether to stay near me offering comfort or give me space to pace the floor. Sometimes he would just sit beside me and lay his head on my thigh. It’s amazing how much calmer you feel after you pet a dog. I didn’t really want to go to a meeting. What I really wanted was to sit on the back porch and tie all my financial problems to the setting sun. In the morning the sun would rise illuminating the money tree growing in my back garden.

This is my favorite side effect of growing up with alcoholism. You imagine the world in which everything is perfect and you snuggle yourself down into that created reality. When a person, place or thing doesn’t conform to our dreamland expectation we tackle it, wrestle it with the ferocity of a wild beast until it’s completely exhausted, then we stuff the poor battered thing into our preconceived image. This is insane behavior. Anxiety reigns. It causes a few tiny little problems in our lives. The goal of going to meetings is to learn how to face the world with tools to maintain sanity instead of trying to force the real world to fit into our created illusion.

I fed the dogs. I went to my bedroom and cringed at my image in the mirror.  Being sad and depressed makes you look sad and depressed. I plastered a smile on my face and looked better. I felt better too. A smile does nothing for the baby fine hair on my head though. My mother used to refer to her hair as cat fur and I inherited the same texture along with my father’s unruly waves. My hair sticks out like a red dandelion, waving in the slightest breeze and causes me all kinds of grief. A good hair product and a curling iron are my best friends.

Liquid eyeliner and a little lipstick worked their magic. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a loose top camouflaged the twenty extra pounds I’d gained.

I drove to the meeting avoiding Dallas traffic. Dear God, I prayed, Please don’t let the Zodiac woman be there tonight. Anxiety is not something you are supposed to feel while driving to a place of serenity. Alanis Morrisette’s lyric, Isn’t it ironic thrummed through my memory.

When I entered the parking lot, I noticed the lot was full. There was an AA meeting that met in the room right next to ours. By double good fortune, not only was Zodiac Woman there but Man-With-Many-Programs was there too. I’m not sure which was worse, hearing about Zodiac Woman’s daily horoscope or listening to all the benefits of the other program that we are NOT supposed to mention in our meeting.

Sturdy Women led the meeting, thank God, or I would have turned around and walked back out. She at least made an effort to keep everyone on topic and within guidelines.

We all sat in bright yellow plastic chairs. Sturdy Woman read the introductions. We took turns reading the 12 Steps and the 12 Traditions, one of which clearly states we are not supposed to bring in outside issues (like the daily astrological reading.)

Let’s see if Zodiac Woman actually follows the rule tonight, Evil Twin whispered in my head.

Sturdy Woman announces the page number, 129 in the Courage to Change book. Most of us use this little book like a good Christian uses the Bible. I’ve read it so many times the pages are falling out, but I still don’t know every reading by heart.

If this is about gratitude, I’m going to throw up, Evil Twin said. I don’t want to write out a damn list of all the things I’m grateful for.

Shhh, I scolded my inner voice and realized I missed hearing the first part of the reading.

…I don’t have to like reality, only to accept it for what it is. This day is too precious to resent things I can’t change. When I accept everything as it is, I tend to be reasonably serene. When I spend my time wishing things were different, I know that serenity has lost its priority.

How do they always know exactly what I need to hear?  I don’t like my current situation, but I have to accept the reality. The more time I spend grieving past decisions, the more my mind is cluttered with unnecessary thoughts. Those wasted thoughts crowd out any space in my mind for solutions to present themselves. No matter how many times we read about the topic Acceptance I still need to hear it. It’s one of the easiest concepts to understand, and one of the hardest to practice.

By the time we got around to Zodiac Woman’s turn, I had listened to several people with years of recovery who had shared their experience, strength, and hope. The knot in my tummy was beginning to relax.

Zodiac Woman shared her daily horoscope and jabbered on and on about astrological events that clearly guide her every waking moment and then she said, I have a hard time accepting some of the signs that I feel like are the most abrasive, she said. (All of our facial expressions were asking, What the fuck is coming now?) I really get along better with earth signs or water signs. I particularly dislike the fire signs, especially a person born under the sign of Aries. They are always so angry.

Here we go again. Zodiac Woman was earning her title. As much as I respect the study of the planets in our solar system and their influence in our lives I did NOT sign up for a class in Astrology.

May I remind you to not bring outside issues into our meetings here in Al-Anon, Sturdy Woman said. Our traditions suggest that we only talk about conference approved literature.

Zodiac Woman looked offended. I, being an Aries, thought she was a total idiot and wished she would find another meeting place. But I wasn’t angry, no, not me.

Maybe being corrected by the moderator of the meeting wasn’t quite enough of a wake-up call. Although the cross-talk rule forbade me to say anything to this woman during the meeting, I could speak to her in private after the meeting.

Hey, Marsha, I said. Do you realize that you just possibly insulted some of the attendees at this meeting?

Marsha looked aghast. No. I would never do such a thing.

But, you did, I said. You have no idea what astrological signs these people were born under, and when you start listing such negative traits about people you don’t know, it’s offensive. The Al-Anon meetings are not the place to vent a negative opinion about something that has nothing to do with the program.

But studying the signs of the Zodiac has helped me regain my balance. They actually help me work the program.

That’s wonderful, I said. I also have respect for such studies, but it’s still an outside" issue. Alcoholism affects every Zodiac sign, and by doing so it also affects the members of Al-Anon. You can’t just blatantly ostracize half the Zodiac because you don’t like them. We’re all trying to regain our balance and our sanity here. The meeting rooms are supposed to be a safe place to come and share our experience, strength, and hope. If you keep insulting people they won’t show up for meetings, and won’t get the benefits of the program.

Well, Marsha said, the study of Astrology is in my experience, and it strengthens me.

Everybody in this meeting might have several different spiritual studies that help them make it through the day, but they are all outside issues. This is an Al-Anon meeting!

You’re raising your voice, Angel Twin cautioned me. This was the voice of reason in my head, although I sometimes preferred Evil Twin’s advice. Just let it go, she said, "The meeting was about acceptance. You aren’t going to change this woman’s mind, and you can’t ban her from the meetings. Just accept her for who she is. Remember, Suzan that Al-Anon is a ‘family group’ and, as such, is a place to practice loving every member, even though you may not like what they are doing." When Angel Twin says my name that way I pay close attention.

At the close of every meeting, we say, What you hear here when you leave here, let it stay here. Take what you like, and leave the rest. I did not like Zodiac Woman or what she had to say, but words are powerful and we had a rather stern admonishment also included in the Al-Anon closing. You may not like all of us, but you will come to love us in a very special way. I did not like Marsha slamming Aries during an Al-Anon meeting, but my instant anger only proved that she was right.

Damn it.

Loving Marsha meant loving the lesson she brought, whether it was Al-Anon approved literature or not. To grow spiritually I needed to work on my anger issues, and learn to accept things I had no control over.

While driving home from the meeting healing words came back to me. Step One is all about acceptance; We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable. In Al-Anon, we replace the word alcohol with the alcoholic since we can’t control what others do. But we can also use the same technique for other things in our lives. I am powerless over the recession, and my life has become unmanageable.

I am powerless over the recession.

I am powerless over the recession.

I am powerless over the recession.

I relax into the words. Acceptance comes.

Life has knocked me down and I’m eating dirt. I do not have the power to go backward in time and undo any bad financial decision I ever made. I do have power over my own body in the present. I can stay on the ground, or get up, dust myself off, and move forward.

CHAPTER 2

But how do I move forward?

I’ll just have to get another job, I thought.

Evil Twin shouted inside my head, Are you completely CRAZY? You can barely make it through the eight-hour shifts you have now. You go home every night, take a pain pill and go to bed. At this rate, you are going to be addicted before you can say ‘dead weight’.

Every now and then Evil Twin really makes sense. (She usually talks me into being very naughty.) The reality was the slim, fit body of my youth was gone. My 60-year-old body was wrapped with extra fat around the