Sometimes I wish people understood how I felt. How some days I’m scared shitless because I do not know what I will be doing or how we will be living in the next year. Whether we will still be here at the co-op, getting subsidy for our rent, which is a true blessing to me, being that I’m raising one child with special needs, on a disability and caregiver to my husband (also on a disability) because of his brain injury. It’s the difference between living and not living (being homeless).
Right now I’m the chair of the board here at our co-op. Now I’m also the Treasurer, something to tell you the truth, I know absolutely nothing about really, but I’m learning quickly.
Our former treasurer is moving, even though I wish she wouldn’t. I don’t want to be treasurer, and chair, and run things here with the other volunteers that give their time and effort (all eight of us.)
Yes you heard correct. There are 8 of us on the board. 4 that spend our Tuesdays and Thursdays in the office, checking letters, going over work orders, maintenance repairs, trying our best to keep up on every unit in here, despite our inability to always do so.
The other four work full time, and come to the meetings. All of us doing our part as the board elected by the members. But out of 93 units in this place, our participation is almost nil. It’s pathetic and heart-breaking, wrong and bloody disgusting if you ask me. It’s like pulling teeth to get anyone to come out and help.
It’s like everyone living here has forgotten what living in a co-op is all about. Community, good neighbors, support of one another, helping each other, pitching in and doing things to make this place (our homes) our (children’s homes) a better place.
Sure our units are not perfect. We don’t live in mansions. Sure this is a business, and sometimes tough decisions have to be made, because this is a business, decisions we don’t want to make. But life is like that, isn’t it?
And when all is said and done. When come home from a Board of Directors meeting. I cry. Yes, I said I cry. Because it’s not just about me. It’s not just about business. It’s about the fact that this is my home, and I’m fighting for my home ~ living in a co-op, and it’s not always easy. You are not always liked. Sometimes nobody gets it. Everyone has something to complain about, but nobody wants to step up and do anything to help (mainly the ones) complaining.
And it pisses me off ~ you know?
But I also know that tomorrow is a new day. I know that I made the best choice, moving in here, for my kids, my husband and myself. It wasn’t just about the subsidy (break in rent) or that I have a four bedroom townhouse that I absolutely love. It was about giving my kids a sense of family that goes beyond the immeditate one they know and love.
You see ~ I know almost every individual living in these 93 units surrounding me. The seniors, the young, the single moms, the families, their children. I know who they are, even the ones I don’t always get along with. Their kids have played inside my home, splashed in the pool at our park with my boys, played hockey at the basketball court just as it’s getting dark. And they know us.
That’s why I chose to live in a co-op. Because my neighbors are my friends, none really my enemies, even though they probably have some not so nice things to say about me behind my back. That’s part of living in a co-op, too. Gossip, back-stabbing, talking about each other, and one very important thing that everyone seems to forget living here.
Love
It’s shown on Thursdays when we gather food one another, or celebrate Valentines Day with a tea. It’s shown when there is a good (for once) turn out during leaf clean-up, or painting fences. And it can be seen during our Halloween and Christmas parties, or when someone needs help carrying their groceries from their car to the apartments, or breaking down boxes for the recycle bin.
And that is what I wanted my kids to learn and live. That even though they might not always get along with everyone, they can still care about each other, look out for each other, learn from the bad and take good wherever they go.
Still, some days I wish I didn’t live here. Some days I wish things weren’t so hard. I wish everyone got along. I wish everyone understood one another. I wish things could be easier ~ for all of us.
Maybe one day they will be.
About Jodi Shaw
