Kind of Like Writing Revisited

 I have not written in months, almost a year now.  There really hasn't been a reason for the absence, I guess I didn't think I had anything to say.  But, when I look at my husband's face after I have not shut up for twenty straight minutes, I realized that I still have something to say.  I Started this blog so that if dementia ever caught me, there would still be a record for me to revisit, for my kinder or grandkinder to visit, to know me better.  This blog has been a safe place for me to say something.

I am fifty one now and I would like to address the new saying that 50 is the new 30.  It isn't. 50 is 50 and it is what ever it is for you.  It certainly isn't going to be bikini photos on the beach showing off my rock hard abs because I don't have rock hard abs. I have soft, pillow like abs.  All the better for Hattie to snuggle against!  It isn't going to be updating my Linkedin with new career opportunities, well, because I don't have a Linkedin.  It also isn't going to be me going through my closet getting rid of whatever clothes have been deemed too young, too trendy, too whatever, because I am going o wear whatever I want.  I never understood why women felt like they needed to cover up their legs as they got older.  I guess I am not flexible enough to see the spider veins running rampant on the backs of my knees.  I also know that I am not giving a damn.  Who has time or energy to care about the veins on someone's legs.  Or the size of their muffin top or the number of greys on their head?  If all of that comes with being older, I will take it over being dead.  That's not to say I won't try to avoid the muffin top or won't continue to color or style my hair.  It means that I am not interested in the views that someone else may hold that are meant to diminish me in some way.  

Also, I was a pretty frequent participant in the diminish someone else game and I would like to apologize for my petty behavior.  I will tell you that I made fun of, belittled and put down people because I was jealous of them, I had low self esteem and I was an asshole.  Mostly an asshole.  I still have low self esteem but am much less of an asshole so I can honestly say I was mostly as asshole.  There's no going back and fixing all of those hurtful, shitty words and deeds.  I actually spent some serious thought on that yesterday on my first walk of the year!  If I were still a church goer, I could go to confession.   I do miss confession.  Woolworth is long out of business so there's no paying them back for the striped mini skirt I stole.  The guy who lived in the first house on Park, he's long dead, I can't apologize to him for fucking with his decorative fence nearly every day.  These offences (and plenty more) just hang in my soul, using up energy.  How do I purge myself of the shittiness that I was?  

Speaking of shittiness, a few years ago, I had a huge falling out with someone that had always been in my life.  That's a weird thing to have happen.  It sucked at the time and took me a long time to reckon with it.  Ashlyn said to me that there are consequences for my actions.  Consequences aren't always negative. Those consequences included other people leaving my life as well but also me really acknowledging who I was and who I was pretending to be.  I think I am much more me now, and this is obviously where I am supposed to be in my fifty first year so it's all good.  The last thing I said to this person was kind.  For that I am glad.  One less amend I have to make, right!  

There is no reason to keep up a part of your life that is painful or hurtful or does not being you joy or fulfillment or whatever.  You can change your mind, your heart, your address, your career, your last name, your first name, your identity and you don't have to explain it.  Ashlyn reminded me of this as well.  When she said that, it hit me that I expect an explanation when people don't follow through.  And well, that's stupid.  I am not owed nor do I owe an explanation for almost anything.  I think about the times at my job that I was going to become an assistant manager or switch to the pharmacy and then something else happened or didn't happen and I didn't become an assistant manager and I didn't transition to the pharmacy.  And now, I work four hours a week at a place that once was my career.  And it's cool and no one needs to know more than that.  Almost all the decisions I make really don't affect anyone else except my husband and maybe my kinder.  

So, that all felt good.  It felt good to have a place to speak.  It feels good to put these thoughts down, like this blog is my diary.  Doogie Howser did it.  We all tuned in for that.  I don't expect anyone to tune in for this, but thanks if you do.  I know I am not alone in trying to figure out how to be 51, to be kind in an often hostile place, to be better than I was, to be at peace with my choices.  I know I am not alone in feeling like everyone else has it together, and is judging me because I don't.  But also, I know that is not the case.  Most of us are decent, we want people to be successful in life, to find joy, to be happy.  Maybe that is where this blog is headed, to focus on success, joy and happiness.  

Anyway, thanks for reading along, I appreciate you.  

On December 2nd of last year I started watching my granddaughter for three days a week.  In February, I reduced my work week by another day so that I could start creating inventory for a summer farmer's market.  I have been social distancing for a few months now.  The new increased levels of distancing aren't really effecting me much.  I am still seeing the same few faces on a regular basis as these people have essential jobs which means I am essential (for baby care) as well.  

I have also been a military spouse and that gives you a preparedness for most anything.  I have also lived with a grounded Jacob, that too, gives you a preparedness for most anything else.

I have already checked off items on my to do list that I would be doing now.  But I still have so many projects I would like to finish or give up on entirely.  There are books to read and shows to binge on.  I have recipes to make and sewing projects to finish after 50 years.  And in a month or so, I will have flowers to plant and gardens to grow.  It will be okay for me.  And I believe that it will be okay for the rest of us as well.  

Let people grieve for what they are losing because these are moments we will not get back.   Let the seniors mourn the loss of those last precious days of ruling the school.  Of getting out early and for a few moments, not having a care.  If you are the class of 2019 or older, you know what I am talking about.  Those were the finest days of freedom and after 13 years of learning, they are well deserved.  Don't diminish the graduates sadness and pain.  It is real and valid.

Let people grieve the missed concerts and performances.  The ones they bought tickets to see and more so, the ones that they will not get to perform.  Those opportunities may not come again.  In  the world of the arts, I imagine it is a lot of talent and a lot more luck to reach a stage.  And even if it is the stage at the local bar, let them grieve this lost opportunity.

The games not played, the Olympics not competed in, the races not run are all real hurts that we should not make light of.  For so many people, not even going to the gym is a real hardship.  Be kind when they express worry about getting lethargic or find it hard to be motivated alone at home.  

I am disappointed that The Broadway Series has been postponed and probably cancelled.  I want to see the new movies in the theater with kettle korn and a giant coca cola.  I wanted to watch my son stick a nail in his nose on a stage.  Yeah, I can see all these things in my living room, and I will, I just wanted the stage, the screen, to hear the moans as he licked the nail off.  

So, be kind and let people express their sorrow.  It is real.  It should be acknowledged.  

I started listening to NPR in mid February when Italy was just getting it.  I listened too much.  By the beginning of March, I had made myself so anxious.  I was having crazy dreams.  I was wondering if it would anyone would call bullshit on me if I started praying again.  I did, so didn't.  I wanted to stock up on toilet paper and bottled water and convince my kids to hunker down in the spare places in our home.  I thought about the emergency kit I had in SoCal in case of earthquakes and wondered why I never made one here for tornadoes and coronaviruses.  I needed a good old fashioned "snap out of it" slap.  

I got back on the loom.  I put in Disney movies and the baby kept coming (her parents are both still working essentially).  And I calmed my shit down.  I bought a reasonable amount of groceries, except for malt balls and chocolate stars, there is no reasonable amount of those.  I bought Costco amounts of diapers because they had a box in stock and I called it good.  

And here we are, truly in the first week of it as everyone has returned from spring break, the non essentials are closed and the case and fatality numbers are rising.  I am taking it seriously, and I think that I always have.  I am sheltering in place except for the two days I work.  I am wiping down door knobs, light switches and phone screens.  I have been washing hands since December 2nd.  I am of relative good health and believe that I would survive an infection.  I don't care to find out though.  

So what to do for the next month to six months, because we don't really know how long we need to be sheltered in place, be grateful.  I have not been grateful enough in this life.  Be productive.  I plan to take care of all those little projects that have been laying around taking up space and joy.  An if the project remains when we are free to roam the street again, I am throwing it out!   I have been sending out postcards.  I have been cleaning out closets.  I have been, as of today, going on walks.  And as soon as the yard waste trucks come by, I will be in the yard.  I will celebrate every little bud that pushes through and every bird that has survived the winter and is creating a home in my yard.  I will make more rugs the world has floors for and hope that people will buy them, someday.

I hope that the tourism board in Venice, Italy decides that they are going to continue to take care of their city and curb tourism.  They are going to see the value of clean waters and let their city find a healthier way to share its beauty and warmth.  I hope China finds a way to keep the air pollution levels lower as it has been during their quarantine.  Maybe they need to start saying no to making the junk of the world.  That may close a factory or two.  And in that vein, the world needs to stop buying the junk of the world.  In America, hospitals and medical facilities need to look at purchasing from American businesses so that in the event of another crisis like this one, there can be a quicker response (based off the interview I listened to on NPR).  Americans need to learn the difference between being prepared and panic.  When kids move out of the house, parents should gift them with a thermometer.  We cannot stop a virus from spreading, but we absolutely can have a god damned thermometer in our house.  

When we are set free again, let us celebrate with our newfound kindness and gratitude.  Let us find those small businesses that worked so hard to survive.  Let us return to Farmer's Markets and playgrounds and ball fields.  Let us remember our neighbors names and continue to yell hello from the back of the decks. Let us not forget how wonderful our teachers and schools are.  Let us contiune to treat our store clerks with appreciation.  Let us continue to cover our mouths and wash our hands and remember to take care of ourselves. 

We are better together, six feet apart!

Covid19, Panic and Keeping it Together

So, this is the first time I think most of us have experienced something like this.  We were nervous with SARS and H1N1 and we absolutely lost our shit with Ebola, but this, this is different.  We are expected to be alone, no gatherings, no out to eats, no St. Patrick's Day parades.  And if we aren't panicking, then we are frustrated or irritated or some other unpleasantry.
I way over read.  I listened to NPR like I was an intellect.  I knew too much.  I now know as little as possible.  And I feel better.  I have sworn myself off of Yahoo news.  I might watch the evening news, but probably not because M*A*S*H is on at the same time on another channel and, well, I can deal with that war.
I understand why people want to hoard.  It is something they can do in a time where they feel like they can do nothing.  I don't know why toilet paper was the hoard of choice.  I don't know why people weren't buying up chocolate and beer, but suit yourself, it's your two months. And in regards to the hoarding of toilet paper and hand sanitizer, I hope no retailer accepts returns of these products and other pandemic related items.
I am concerned for the economy.  For the small businesses that won't rebound.  For the retail and restaurant employees that are out of jobs for weeks and maybe months.  Honestly, for my own little business that doesn't really make any money, but that people won't come back out to craft shows and farmer's markets, that people will be afraid to buy their wants just in case.  I hope that companies with a little breathing room in their budget will help out the people and businesses that don't.
But at the same time, maybe the world needs a month off to get their houses cleaned and check books balanced.  Maybe this is a good opportunity for some businesses to figure out some of their issues.  Airlines could review the limited social distancing in airplanes and spread those seats out a bit.  They could also look at their customer service record and fix that up a little.  TSA will have less screenings to do so they could reorganize the area a little better so people weren't on top of each other while putting lap tops in bins and taking off their shoes.  Companies could repair their parking lots and facades.
I am not social distancing any more than usual.  I am usually home, only working two days a week now, so my schedule is really unchanged.  I don't have to struggle with child care for the next month or longer.  I don't have anyone with compromised immunity in my home.  I have no planned vacation to cancel.  The weather is warming up so I will be able to go outside, if only in my yard.
Facebook, though great at sharing dog photos and recipes, has become decisive over this virus.  Like we aren't in the middle of an election year, and we needed something else to argue about.  Anyway, there is a lot of good information out there that is great to share, but also remember that anyone can make a post or a meme with any information that they want.  The spread of false information is such a shitty thing to do.  It takes an extra 20 seconds to verify if your facts or opinions are factual.  And if you overhear someone say "I heard..." don't repeat it.  Remember that there are some people, even on your friend list, that are scared, or feel anxious or irrational.  There are some that are far from home or from their loved ones or their paycheck and they are afraid.  Be aware of that when you tell people to stop overreacting or that this will blow over.  Tornadoes blow over but can also fuck shit up.
And while on the subject of Facebook, the doomsday biblical posts aren't helping.
This seems like the perfect time to figure out what is important, focus on that.  Try a few new recipes.  Read a book.  Check off a few to dos on the list.  Appreciate who you are social distancing with.  Binge a comedy.  Oh, and be kind to everyone.

Nora Lynn

On October 8th another beautiful soul came into this world.  Practically perfect, she took my heart, including pieces of it that I didn't know I had.  Tiny, tiny fingers and toes, a sweet round nose, I was completely unprepared for this love.  This grandbaby girl love that truly doesn't compare to any other love I have known (and I've known a few). 
There are no grandparent rights, legal, or otherwise.  Every moment I have with this grandchild is a gift.  The mistakes, real or imagined, that I made with my own children need not be made again.  I am not new to this game, overtired or overworked will not apply to me.  Every moment shared is an act of faith by her parents that I will only build her up, put her first, fill her heart and the hearts of subsequent grand babies, with joy.  And this is a roll I do not take lightly. 
When I think of my own grandma and mom, (lofty goals, indeed)  I won't try to imitate them, but certainly emulate a few of their traits.  Already, I have big, big plans with this little gal.  And in the beginning, I imagine those plans will include a little Gordon McRae playing in the background while I tell her amazing stories of where she came from and how many people love her.  I will tell her how wide her families are, not bound by blood but by a tremendous love of her parents that now includes her.  Blessed with many great grandparents living, I will tell her about those already gone.  I will tell her about the big dogs that would have loved her fiercely all the while trying to convince the little one here that this baby is what a best friend looks like.  I cannot carry a tune or keep in step but that will not diminish the songs we will sing or the moves we will make. 
And the list goes on and on.  If I am lucky, if I am blessed to get a whole lot of living with this girl and those that may come along after her, I won't take it for granted.  I won't waste my days with idle work when there will be a Nora to learn from and love.  I won't take for granted that her mom and dad will bring her to my house instead of a daycare.  I won't take it for granted that my husband knows this worth is far greater than the paycheck I would bring home.  I won't take it for granted that my grandchild is near me, not across the country or the world, that the stars aligned to keep them close to us. 
I was pregnant no where near my parents, there had to be drives across country and flights across the Atlantic for them to meet my children.  Watching the little person I made make a little person was really quite amazing.  I tried desperately to be like my mom and not offer unsolicited advice (and I failed miserably).  And my mom, being a neonatal nurse, was wholly qualified to offer advice!  And now, watching these two kids with their kid, I know they need no real advice.  They know how to love her with their whole selves and everything else they can google.

A continuing evolution

I stopped praying a few months ago.  I stopped having faith in a greater power.  I stopped the insestint struggle I had with my relationship with God.  And I am no worse for wear.  In fact, I am far more at peace knowing that as the world appears to collapse around us, I don't have to be angry at a god who does not appear to listen to the pleas of his most desperate people.  I can blame humans for this shit and I can look to humans to help their fellow humans and the world we share.
I mean no disrespect to people who have a relationship with God, that find comfort in prayer, in worship.  I did.  The Catholic mass used to be a place of huge respite for me.  And then I found more conflict inside of me as I listened to the homilies of priests that represented a church that did not own its mistakes, its huge, life altering, life ruining mistakes.  I couldn't hear the message of love because I became fixated on the lack of responsibility the church showed in the abuses of children, in the coercion of its young priests, in its rapes of nuns at the hands of priests.  I felt like the church was looking to blame society, media and the "sin" of homosexuality.  None of that sounded like love to me.  So, I stopped going to mass, removed my name from the parishioner list, changed my funeral plans and no longer identified myself as catholic.
But my struggle was still there.  I covered up my LET GO LET GOD tattoo.  Now it just says "LET GO" and that's what I did.  I let go of having faith in a greater power.  I now think of god as a bigger power, but not greater.  I don't wonder about his plan for me, I don't fight so hard against his will.  I don't really think there is a plan and if there is, it appears to be a poor one.
I recently read an article in National Geographic about sacred text.  The article mentioned that at one point, men gathered to decide what books would be in the bible.  I read another article online about how the word homosexual and its variations were not in early bibles but only appeared later.  Early texts used a word to describe someone that was a child abuser, which is not a synonym of homosexual.  How do I trust the words written in the bible as the word of God when I see so much evidence of the hand of man mucking it all up?  So, I decided to pick and choose what I wanted to use in my life, much like Thomas Jefferson did and self-righteous people do.
And this I know, it does not matter if I believe, if I pray, if I do what Jesus did (because I wouldn't, let's be honest, I am not aiding lepers or volunteering to die on crosses).  What matters is how I live my life here because I am here not because I am trying to secure a spot there.  Love thy neighbor regardless of their sexual orientation, immigration status or religion but judge them on their shopping cart habits.
I was tired of hearing the phrases 'god's will' and 'free will'.   I was tired of those being the answer to every question that haunted me.  I was tired of the idea that an infant born with cancer was somehow "god's will" because if it was, god was a jerk.  The Amazon is on fire, God should be able to make it rain but instead sends a killer hurricane to already destitute areas.  How is any of that behavior the behavior of someone I want to look up to, worship, confide in and trust?  So, I trust the people raising money to help fight the fires, that help fight the cancers, that help rebuild the islands.  I send them my dollars instead of giving it to an organization that has had to pay hush money to altar boys.
I won't pray for you.  I won't ask you to keep me in your prayers.  I will bless you when you sneeze because I don't know what else to say, but I don't really mean it in that way.
But in all of my thinking, I still have some contradictory truths.  I know that my mom is in heaven.  I still love to visit churches and would not turn down a trip to the vatican.  I have a big collection of crosses and nativity scenes that I do not intend to get rid of.  I am still defensive toward Martin Luther and his influence on the iconoclasts.  I am not an atheist or even an agnostic.  I am simply a non participant.  And probably a ticket holder to hell.

Looking For a Bloke Like Joseph

I've had three horrible dreams in the past four weeks, two on the same night.  The dreams were all different though two were related.  In each dream, I had an overwhelming sense of dread.  I could feel that dread spread up my legs, pinning me in my place.  In each dream, I knew that I needed help and tried to yell for it but could not get the sound out.  During each of these dreams, my sweet husband, still recovering from back surgery had to try and wake me.  The first dream was just days after his surgery.  The other two dreams came during the week of my own bout of diverticulitis.  It would make sense that all these dreams were in response to the stress I was under.   I did my due diligence and sleep paralysis was my internet diagnosis.  Turns out that I may have been in an in between of sleep and awake and that is why I so clearly remember the physical and visual experience.  I now try to not sleep on my back, which is one cause.  There didn't seem to be much in the way of other solutions other than reduce stress.
Aside from these dreams, I am constantly having dreams about people that I used to know.  I wake up from these sad or frustrated or, usually, pissed.  So my question to a dream decipherer is this, how do I shut off my mind when I shut off the lights?
I don't buy the stressful life theory aside from the two aforementioned episodes.  My life is pretty easy, pretty stress free.  Roof over my head, food on my table, gas in my car.  Anything else is stress I am making up.  So with that in mind, I would expect the sleep paralysis to be done. 
These other dreams though, where I am an this place of really ugly energy, they reek of unfinished business.  And what does one do when the business cannot be finished.  What does one do when (I am metaphoring this som bitch up) the bridge is torn down, the wood has floated down river and all that is left are some rusted old pipes that once served as make shift hand rails?  What does one do when a mountain has, in fact, been made of a mole hill?  Too big to get over and too big to smooth out.
I understand why doctors say "he's lucky, it was a clean break."  It is so easy to heal from something that gave way smoothly.  My own literal break was not clean and there is a tiny chip of bone loose in my ankle.  It used to bother me and then I think it burrowed itself into the fat of my calf and is now completely forgotten.  And my figurative break is not clean either.  Ten years ago, it would have been before social media wormed its way into my life and I probably read more into comments (or the lack of them) then I do of actually reading comments. 
So I ask you, self help gurus, life coaches, people that have removed the toxic or stopped being the toxic, how is it done.  How do get my clean break?  How do I stop caring and hurting and trying? 

Martyrdom is Dumb

Let me clarify martyrdom, I am not referring to those that have given their lives for their religious beliefs.  That is not something I can remotely understand, but it is not dumb.  I have very wavering religious beliefs so it would be hard for me to die for them as they change every other day.  The martyrdom I am referring to is the stupid notion that one must take it all on themselves.  (Insert image of tired woman with back of hand on forehead).  How the notion of someone suffering because they are doing it all became martyrdom is beyond me, because the two actions are certainly not interchangeable.
A week and a half ago, Danny had back surgery.   Two surgeries actually, on Thursday and Friday.  Also on Friday, the biggest work project I annually have also started.  Add to that, bad weather, daughters driving hundreds of miles and an out of whack shoulder.  I was determined to handle all of it.  I was going to be at the hospital in the mornings for surgery, go to work, keep up on texts as the drivers stopped for gas, go back to the hospital, come home, push some snow (can't get the snowblower started with my bad shoulder) sleep and do it again.  I thought this was what I was supposed to do.  The first snowstorm I came home to a snow blown front walk and started to cry in the driveway.  The following day I came home from the hospital to find the entire drive shoveled by Jacob and the waterworks began again.  Obviously, I needed help but oddly, wasn't asking.  I worked the weekend, visited Danny and came home bone tired.  The work project is pretty physical, a lot of bending, lifting and reading very small print.  I have done this project on my own a dozen times over the last 10 years, I am efficient and usually have no problem getting it done in a week, but I had never had a week like this one.
Danny came home Monday and I knew immediately that I needed to stay home with him on Tuesday.  We were not prepared for the recovery of this surgery.  The doctors certainly gave us best case scenario and though Danny was not completely incapacitated, he was not without the need of a lot of assistance.  The hospital had his medications spread out over a two to four hour span.  We were up a lot in the night. 
Tuesday night I had my first ever experience with sleep paralysis.  My brothers in law and son had all experienced it, so I knew what it was, but had no idea what it would feel like.  The details of my dream didn't relate to what was going on in my life, but I can only guess that the stress I had put myself under was what had set this experience in motion.  My muffled calls for help in my sleep were alarming enough to force Danny to roll over in bed to wake me.  It was like nothing I had ever felt before.  I was unable to move but felt like I needed to, I yelled for help but the words would not be heard.  I knew there was danger coming through the door in my dream though I never saw what it was.  Exhausted, I made the decision to stay home on Wednesday.  It snowed again on Wednesday.  Two of Danny's friends came over after work and cleared the driveway for us.  At work, other employees took care of that day's duties and I finally made peace with not doing it all.  And, you know what, I am no less of a human for it. 
There is no gold star next to my name if I get the project done all by myself.  In fact, the project is designed to be done by teams so it is expected that several people complete the project.  At 49, I don't physically come back from a day like I used to.  I seem to require my full eight hours of sleep and for these few days, wasn't getting close to that.  I'm no martyr.  Nor did I set out to be one.  I just didn't think that week would be that hard.  We asked the questions at the appointment before surgery so we could be prepared, they just didn't give us much for answers.  And I thought the work project would be manageable, but in years past, I was always able to get a head start on it, this year, I wasn't.  Lesson learned.  Help is not a four letter word.  Well, it is, but it isn't a bad word.  This was a lesson taught to me years ago by Father Hurley.  I should have remembered.  People want to help, they just need to know how.  Most people aren't mind readers, they don't know how one is struggling.  And even when a person is aware of what is going on, they cannot possibly know what kind of support is already in place.  Additionally, everyone of the people that helped me out this week and every other time, have their own snow to shovel so to speak. 
I've know there are a lot of people that have to do it all themselves.  They have no support system for whatever reason and I am not making light of your situation.  If it's you, send me a message, I can help. 
I shared my epiphany with a friend of mine and she said that she was glad for it.  She didn't know how I was going to cope as the week was giving me pressure on the physical, mental and emotional front.  She was proud of me, she said.  And mine was only a week so I thought I could do it.  Not out of pride, just didn't expect all the feels to beat me down. 
Caregivers so often forget to care for themselves.  I see it so often at Walgreens when the harried person comes in for a prescription and walker and chocolates.  They are often overwhelmed with it all in the beginning and slowly become immune to their own needs.  Or they become so bitter because they aren't given the help they expect but don't ask for.  In my own week, the girls were on vacation and Jacob had recently moved out.  I didn't want to burden Jacob with coming over to shovel.  He did it gladly (well, you know).