When I met my "Handsome Prince" I was a smart high school artist working on his college campus, and we were a storybook match from that moment till his sudden death 17 years later, in 1981. I was 34. Our loving and bright children were 11 and 13. The 80s Recession disintegrated investments. Things got "interesting", for some time - lots of challenges, and complications, but that's another adventure story - essentially, though, "we got there" well enough, with happy heads and hearts again and recuperated money.
Then while doing my art and some response, I was injured in an accident and set back to "Square One" - this time I was angry and had a good talk with God.
Disc and spinal cord injuries were complicated by "hot flashes time", and my Father's passing, and burnout from almost ten years responding to wonderful Red Cross and local shelter and other response things - my family had always done a bit of such work and loved it, but not as long as I did it that time.
Disabled and set up in a little bungalow to recuperate, I thought my worklife was done, just as my new business license was making me so happy, and nice praise for my artwork incoming and first major prizes won.
My son flew in from his job in California and taught me HyperTextMarkupLanuage - and I was hooked - Ellefagan.com and new friends and new opportunities worldwide opened up!
Even better: I kept my promise and did no further on site response work, but began using my artwork to fundraise for those going to response sites in my wake. It was JUST the right thing to do and has grown in success since that time.
With my days making more sensible demands on my body, I healed! And healing was an option, in my case. Good fitness runs in my family and today, I test for it all very nicely - gold stars, in fact - and still enjoying some of it all!
The beginning of my sudden disability was pretty traumatic and I had heard that leaving a disbility to go on to a more normal work/earn lifestyle again could be traumatic, too!
So I was sure to research around through my things and do my best to be prepared for such. I am a good prayer , too, and meditated and prayed to prepare my mind , so that I could be gracious and effective at handling any "potholes" that appeared in the road to NOTdisabled life.
Then it happened ANYWAY - in spite of my preparations and knowledge to the contrary, I was phoned and threatened and told that I could no longer enjoy the residence in the sunny little bungalow I called "home" while disabled.
A few weeks later, I received a note saying I owed the landlord money that I did not owe, and had to appear in a sort of Para-court, called Housing Arbitration. At this hearing, I was forgiven the imaginary debt ,but told I would have to move anyway and left with eviction papers in hand.
I was stunned. This being America, and my honors lifelong , earning me at least basic human respect, this move was devastating.
I had only begun the lenghty process of reworking personal and business legalities to NOTdisabled status, and the new money was NOT at all in hand - I had not a dime to move out - not to anywhere.
I was NOT supposed to be asked to move until the new money was in hand and in bank, to permit a safe move...especially after all the work healing and recuperating and re-working my work life to sustain me for the next 20 years.
I had donated liberally my time and work to the local community and further and one of my things even got to the White House. My life in my church and artworld had been lovely, or I am sure healing could not have happened.
After a bit of major flapping about, friends loaned me money for a motel rent, if a rickety one, and then the beginning of the new cash supports began to arrive, and the first financial relief - six months after the eviction.
A few months after that, I began my search for the right attorney to win for me - in court or private negotiations - some compensation for my suffering in the Wrongful Eviction.
At this writing, more of the awards from my work are incoming, and new money to empower me better, but the Eviction cost me the- Right to a Normal Day
- The cost of the motel(s)
- Access to my art studio
- Access to my private life furnishings and more........ (must go....return for the continuation)
