Poor families grasp for calm amid the chaos

When her husband's paycheck didn't arrive with the afternoon mail, Edwina Lockwood went into a tailspin.

It was Friday, and she worried that there wasn't enough food in the house to feed the family through the weekend. She knew the car needed gas so her husband, Bobby, could get to work the next day.

Like many low-income families, the Lockwoods live paycheck to paycheck. It's a precarious existence that compounds the daily stresses that every family faces. Between 10 percent and 13 percent of poor parents reported having symptoms of depression between 1998 and 2003, according to the nonprofit, nonpartisan Child Trends DataBank. That compares with 3 percent to 4 percent for parents earning more than the federal poverty rate.

"If there is a disruption of the secure and stable bond with a parent that is due to parental stress, children's mental health could be affected," said Annie Georges, a senior scientist at Columbia University's Center for Children and Families.

To cope, some working-poor families turn to counselors, support groups or extended family members. Others rely on self-help and prayer.

Edwina, 34, knows that she's under stress. She's not always as patient with her three boys as she'd like to be, raising her voice and regretting it. Bobby, 37, is more low-key, though sometimes he needs a cigarette to calm his nerves.

They got through the recent weekend because relatives gave them a few dollars and invited them over for meals; Bobby didn't buy cigarettes.

Counseling and self-help

The Lena Pope Home provides counseling to about 10,000 low-income adults and children each year. The nonprofit agency tries to get clients in as quickly as possible, but waits for nonemergencies can stretch up to six weeks, Executive Director Ted Blevins said.

Catholic Charities Diocese of Fort Worth, which serves 1,600 families a year, has a four-week waiting list, particularly for people who need Spanish-speaking counselors.

"There is a huge need for counseling," said Heather Reynolds, Catholic Charities executive director.

Michael McKinsey, 12, Edwina Lockwood's oldest son, was having trouble focusing in school. He takes medication for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD.

His biological father, whom Michael hadn't seen since he was 4, had recently died, and he needed help dealing with his grief. Edwina needed to work out the guilt she felt that her son would never have a relationship with his biological father.

In February, Edwina and Michael began weekly visits with a counselor through a program run by the Arlington Life Shelter.

The counseling and medication helped. Michael was calmer and looked forward to sharing his feelings with the counselor. But in August, the family completed the Arlington Life Shelter's two-year transitional housing program and no longer qualified for the counseling program.

Edwina hopes to find some free services, but she's waiting until the family gets a second running car. With only one vehicle -- the family lives on about $30,000 a year -- Edwina sometimes has no transportation when Bobby takes their car to work. So Michael's therapy is on hold.

"It really did help him, so I want him to go," Edwina said.

It took Vedat Lika, 52, six weeks to get counseling for his daughter, Madison. The girl, now 5, had been acting out, hitting her brother and having outbursts -- a result, Lika believes, of the abuse she suffered before he gained custody.

Because he was unemployed at the time, Lika had to rely on Medicare to pay for counseling at the Parenting Center in Fort Worth. In July, he filed for bankruptcy. His annual salary of $40,000 from a job he got May 1 could not cover all the $27,000 in debts he had accumulated from eight months of little to no income.

The Lika family is no longer eligible for Medicare. But the state's Crime Victims Assistance Program is paying for Madison's counseling sessions because she was abused by a man while living with her mother.

Adding to that stress was finding out that his son, Arman, 5, has Asperger's syndrome, a mild form of autism. Arman was so withdrawn that Lika knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what until the boy's condition was diagnosed this summer by the Child Study Center in Fort Worth.

Arman now receives special-education services at the East Fort Worth Montessori School, where he attends kindergarten.

When Lika needs to talk, he said he turns to family, friends, neighbors and his girlfriend, Beverly Demoise.

"I talk to everyone," he said. "I don't have time to see a counselor, but I'm working things out."

He also relieves stress by practicing yoga with his children.

"Yoga strengthens you in ways you never thought about. I never feel tired when I'm finished," Lika said.

He snaps up self-help books and videos at secondhand stores and garage sales. Among his favorites are Don't Sweat the Small Stuff and Soul Food.

He often just collapses in a chair after putting the children to bed and listens to jazz or rock music while reading a book. He might drink a glass of wine or smoke a cigarette.

"A lot has happened to me in this last year," Lika said. "I didn't say, 'God is going to help me,' or, 'Allah is going to help me.' These practical things from other religions say you have to help yourself and believe in yourself. God can only do so much."

Support groups

Terri Rushing sometimes gets so overwhelmed that she suffers panic attacks. Other times she cries in the shower or after her three children go to sleep.

She's constantly worried about car repairs and whether she'll be able to afford groceries or make her rent on an annual income of $27,600. It's not that she isn't working hard to pay her bills -- sometimes she's too tired to stand up and give her kids hugs and kisses when she gets home from her job as a trainer at the Gaylord Texan Resort & Conference Center. It's just that Rushing never sees herself getting ahead.

"You never feel like you are doing anything well," Rushing said. "Everything is always hanging over my head."

That is a common feeling among low-income families, said Blevins of the Lena Pope Home.

"They're fragile. They're hurting," he said. "They're feeling very disappointed in themselves, so it doesn't take much to discourage them."

To cope, Rushing, 49, turns to Saturday single parents night at her church, Gateway Church in Southlake. There, people from across the Metroplex gather weekly to talk, share horror stories and encourage one another to press on.

Rushing also attends a Monday night singles group at the church for adults to meet others with similar faith.

At the events, Rushing has "grown-up" conversations while her children interact in groups with other youngsters and listen to stories about respect, acceptance and friendship. That eliminates the guilt Rushing said she usually has when taking time out for herself.

"I don't have to talk a certain way, do certain things, and I walk out feeling better," Rushing said. "My children have fairly positive self-esteems compared to what they could have had. I believe it is the positive influence I receive that helps me be a better mom and have more patience."

The power of prayer

Ofelia Luevano knows the power of prayer. She relies on it when she worries about a bill that needs to be paid, or feels she can't provide for the couple's seven children, four of whom they took in from a stranger more than two years ago. She says her husband, Antonio, 38, reads the Bible almost nightly before going to bed.

"With our faith, that's what gets us through," Ofelia Luevano said.

Evidence of their faith is everywhere in their home. A picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe -- an important religious symbol for Mexican Catholics -- hangs on the living room wall.

Throughout the room is an assortment of religious figurines, from angels to Jesus. An open Bible rests on a nearby sofa table.

Luevano, 40, said she used to have a wallpaper border of angels around her living room.

"Everyone has an angel," she said.

People often turn to religion to cope with stress, depression and illness, said Harold G. Koenig, a professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences and an associate professor of medicine at Duke University. He is also co-director of the Center for Spirituality, Theology, and Health at Duke University Medical Center.

"Studies that we have done at Duke show that people who rely heavily on their religious faith recover more quickly from depression and deal with stress better," Koenig said. "Praying gives people a sense of hope and control over their difficult life circumstances and makes them feel that life has meaning and purpose no matter what they are struggling with."

Life wasn't always based on prayer in the Luevano household.

"I used to get upset about everything," Ofelia Luevano said. "I would want to scream."

Nearly two years ago, Luevano said she suffered from back problems that caused her pain daily and prevented her from being a full-time mom and wife. She could barely stand at times, and her abdomen would swell as if she were eight months pregnant, she said. Doctors couldn't explain it.

"I would feel like my back was going to come apart and break into pieces," she said. "I was taking a lot of pain medication."

Around the time she was suffering with back problems, Ofelia said, a Child Protective Services worker asked the couple whether they would permanently take in Juan, Juliette, Fabian and Victor Martinez. The children, who now range in age from 5 to 8, had moved in with the Luevanos after their grandfather said he could not care for them.

"The day before Ash Wednesday I came home and sat there in that chair and turned on the TV," she said. "I looked at them and turned off the TV and started praying.

"I said, 'Lord, you know my situation. I want to adopt these children, but there's no way because of my health.' I said, 'Lord, if you think these children need me for their permanent future, then heal me.'"

She put her faith to the test and promised God that she would walk five miles from her Haltom City home to Our Lady of Guadalupe church on Blue Mound Road in Fort Worth. After she completed the walk, her back pains slowly went away.

If she had the money, Ofelia said, she would consider visiting a psychiatrist. But with an annual family income of about $31,000, she can't afford it. Sometimes a hot bath or weekend outing with her family helps, she said.

"I sit and think about things and how I can do it, but then I know how. It's from upstairs," she says, pointing to the sky.

Contact the reporters

Today's report was written by Adrienne Nettles, anettles@star-telegram.com, 817-685-3820; Elizabeth Campbell, liz@star-telegram.com, 817-390-7696; Traci Shurley, tshurley@star-telegram.com, 817-548-5494; and Melissa Vargas, msanchez@star-telegram.com, 817-685-3888. Readers' suggestions and comments are welcome.