Coming Clean

The kids selling rocks they decorated.

The kids selling rocks they decorated.

So, I’m not really much of a blogger. You may have caught onto that, since I kind of… don’t post. I really thought I’d post a lot more. Back when I was at Bub and Lala I posted quite a lot. Regularly. But, it has gotten harder and harder for me to will myself to post. So, I’m admitting it. I’m not one of those post-a-day types who actually somehow manage to get followers and make some money. Not gonna happen.

Posting has been hard for me. And I feel I should come clean as to why. Our life since moving to Peru has been tough. Really tough. I’ve loved living here, still do. I love seeing my kids here. I love that we took a chance and committed ourselves to something we love in spite of the risk.

But living without an income is tough. I’ve posted some on my old blog about the stress of living in poverty. But that was different somehow. Partially because we lived in the States, so we were on food stamps and we didn’t actually have to worry about feeding our children (though the end of each month, right before it renewed, was always somewhat scary).

But now, well, we chose this. We knew that getting the necessary financing for our film was iffy. But we took this step anyway. We knew that Matthew couldn’t legally work in Peru, and that if we didn’t get the grants we applied for, I’d have to find some kind of work. So, this situation was a choice. And that makes is suck even more.

See, you can’t point fingers when this happens. It’s not the system that did this to us. It’s not the big corporations. The government. Society. They didn’t tell us to move to Peru and film a documentary.

We have applied for a handful of production grants. One in particular would have solved all our personal and filmmaking financial issues for the rest of the time here. We thought we had a really good chance. Our project was compelling and spot on with what they were looking for. We did all our homework, prepared a killer application and sample video. They sent us word we made it to the final round last month. We’ve been holding our breath ever since.

Then, two nights ago, we got the word. No.

And now, we are struggling. Struggling to keep our heads above water as we plan our next move. Until we have a rough cut, there are not many grants we can apply for now. We are on our own.

So, that is why it is hard for me to post. So often I feel like all my energy is pouring into my family’s survival. My constant awareness is caught up in lifting Matthew above that deep darkness that is pulling at him, every moment of the day. My peripheral vision is full of these bright and beautiful children who should have a full and protected life, savoring this place and exploring this world and not being hungry. And my own focus has to be on finding jobs, a translation here, a class there. Maybe even an occasional video. Anything that will keep us going.

I just don’t have the breath to sit and type my heart out onto this blog. I will try, but I’m just so tired.

And I should add that I know exactly how fortunate I am to have this healthy, lovely family, who usually has enough and appropriate clothes to wear and almost always has something to eat, even if it’s not what they want. There are many, many, all around us, who don’t.

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