In a World

You know when you see a movie trailer and it starts with, "In a World" being said in a dramatic voice?  It's not usually they kind of thing said before a rom-com. So, the 2020 was to be a movie trailer, it would most certainly start with "In a World".

In a world where a president fails his country by not addressing the heads up on a virus, over 180,000 people have died.   

In a world where a president contradicts all the safety precautions to help lower the spread of the virus, 6 million cases have been reported.

In a world where a president "doesn't see" a report that Russia was paying bounties to the Taliban to kill American troops, American troops were killed.

In a world where a president says there were good people on both sides of an alt-right rally, the floodgates of racism burst open.

In a world where cops and racist civilians are killing POC, Black Lives Matter.

In a world of all these things, stress, anxiety, and depression can really take over. It seems hopeless.

But, in a world where a stepdaughter is pregnant, a baby boy will be born, and hope and love will rise.

TSK...The Black kids have the worst lunches

I've been watching interviews of Cori Bush lately. She's a nurse, single mother, ordained pastor and community activist. She just won the Democratic party's primary for US Congress in Missouri's 1st District. It's a huge win. 

Her interviews point out aspects of poverty. She talks about her own experiences with poverty. This is the topic of her platform. She talks about the cycle of poverty and how it is so difficult break from it. At one point she talked about food insecurity. As I listened, I thought of an experience from my college days.

One summer when I was in college, I worked for a summer day camp. No big deal, nothing fancy. It was part of the city's recreation department's summer programming. I like to think the director was ignorant, but I think she may actually have been racist. 

Some days we went next door to the city's pool. As the kids would get ready, I would help them with sunscreen. This included the African-American kids. In a snippy way, she asked me why I was doing that? I told her the kids still need protection from the sun. They can get sunburn, it may just take longer, but it can still happen.

Then, there was the time she made a snide comment about the differences in the lunches the African-American kids brought and the lunches the white kids brought. She thought it was terrible how unhealthy the African-American kids' lunches were. Therefore, the parenting wasn't as good. She needed to hear about how finances make a difference in groceries. The best options for healthy food cost more. Sugary "juice" drinks are cheaper than real juice. Produce is more expensive than chips. It's unfortunate, but is the reality some people live with. This food issue can lead to poor health, which is just another part of the cycle of poverty Cori Bush has as her campaign platform. 

#BLM

 

Peanuts vs. Jelly Beans

In fall of 1980, I started kindergarten. I was a 5-year-old. It was an election year. The Republican Ronald Reagan was running against the incumbent Democrat Jimmy Carter. Scholastic News had ballots for us to use to vote. They were pictures of each candidate. We had a booth to cast our vote. It was a "brick" cardboard play house. Each of us took a turn to go in and put the picture for our candidate in a box. I don't remember who won and I don't remember who I voted for, perhaps Jimmy Carter. I was 5, what did I know?

Around the time I was casting my vote, Jimmy Carter was signing the Mental Health Systems Act of 1980. The MHSA was to set up grants for community mental health centers. Their was a movement for rehabilitation of people with sever mental illnesses in the 1970s. The focus of the movement and the law were on the same page. So, community health systems worked to coordinate general health care, mental health care, and social support systems. I didn't know this when I voted in kindergarten because...well...remember I was 5-years-old.

Thirteen years later, I was just out of high school. I went on a service trip to the intercity of Cincinnati. It was about 10 days of living above a storefront with a bunch of teenagers and some adult leaders. It was incredibly eyeopening. We did various jobs. I was at a soup kitchen. It was like nothing I ever experienced. We had speakers who worked in different ways with the poor and homeless. We went to hear one person and that's how I learned about the floodgates of mentally ill persons being released from hospitals. A year after Jimmy Carter signed the MHSA into law in 1980, Reagan repealed most of the law. So, mental health care saw major cuts. 

This changed my view for the rest of my time in Cincinnati. There was a park in front of where we stayed. Lots of homeless were there. I talked to one man who was a Vietnam vet. It was obvious he really could have used help. He showed me the scar from his sternum diagonally down his left side around to his back. Much of what he talked about didn't make sense to me. If I knew about PTSD back then, I would guess that was one of his issues.

Many at the soup kitchen were surely suffering from some mental illness or other. One day, a woman came through the line. She was wearing a purple fishnet shirt. That was it for the top. No regular shirt. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure where to look. I mean, we talk to those who come through the line. It would be weird if I ignored her. She did the talking and moved on through.

In both kindergarten and the summer after graduating high school I wasn't aware of my mental illnesses. Now, I've been living with it, in good times and bad. So, it is a very important issue for me.

Looking at the two presidents and at an area that is very important to me, I'd like to think I went in that "voting booth" and voted in the interest of my future self. I'd like to think I voted for peanuts vs. jelly beans, that I voted for Jimmy Carter. 

Can’t we all just wear a mask?

I was speaking with someone of the belief that masks don't really do anything and should not be forced upon anyone. The "you do what makes you comfortable and I'll do what makes me comfortable" point of view. There seemed to be the idea that mask wearers were mean toward those choosing not to wear them. They were being picked on by those in masks. I pointed out that it wasn't like the reverse wasn't the case. Right in front of her people were calling mask wearers "assholes" and "sheeple" and whatever else. 

I decided to point out what I see is the importance of wearing a mask. There was an attempt to explain that wearing a mask isn't for your own benefit but for the benefit of others. I said that I wear a mask because my 83-year-old dad who has diabetes and end stage liver failure would die if he was in contact with COVID-19. This wasn't a situation of he could, he would. The response was that she wouldn't be around my 83-year-old dad. I'm not around him, either. He's in Cleveland. This was meant to make a point and I guess I made too much of an assumption about that point being understood.

So, here's the deal. I wear a mask because I have many family and friends who fit into one or more of the risk areas for contracting COVID. They are people with COPD. Some with diabetes. I mentioned end stage liver failure already. There some who are obese (yes, myself included). Someone I know is pregnant and she is in a state that is way out of control with the number of cases and deaths. I know people with asthma. There are people in my life who have an autoimmune disease, such as Sjogren's Syndrome, for example. I know someone with Crohn's Disease who had a proctocolectomy and an ileostomy and now lives with on ostomy bag. I know someone who came through having COVID, but now her lung capacity is not what it was. She now has a difficult time doing the singing she had so enjoyed. 

I don't wear a mask literally for the people I've mentioned. They live all over the place. I'm not in close physical contact with all of them. I wear the mask because those people have health issues that are found in other people all around me. I'm sure the person I talked about in the beginning has people like these in her life. 

I wear a mask; Shawn wears a mask; other people we know wear masks. We all wear them to protect others from ourselves. Why is it so difficult to reciprocate?

Just wear the mask. Wear it without needing a government mandate. I wear mine for you. Can't you wear one for me?....or, if you don't like me, wear it for someone else who needs you to, someone you love.

There must be someway out of here

Anxiety has been an issue for me as far back as I can remember. There's the whole having a tummy ache every time we ate at a restaurant situation. Then taking a standardized test in 3rd grade and almost peeing my pants because I was afraid to ask to go to the bathroom. We were told there could be no disruptions. The list goes on all the way to this very moment.

I was thinking about all of this today while talking to my therapist. A lot of the situations when anxiety kicked in had to do with making an exit. I was looking for physical exits. But, also looking for how I would excuse myself; how to leave.

A couple weeks ago, when I was already in bad shape, there was an event at work. I wasn't going to go, but a friend was going to be in town and would be at the event. COVID issues were certainly on my mind, but that really wasn't the biggest cause of stress. I was anxious about being around a lot of people and most of them being strangers. I had my usual anxiety induced talking too much. I started to think it would be a good time for me to leave. Then, of course, a storm blows in. Major rain and win causing people to come inside. So, the crowd anxiety grew. I was parked in a field and trying to get to my car through the wind and rain didn't seem like a good idea.

There I am, my exit plan foiled. 

I ended up staying much longer than I intended. A little ceremony started and that sealed the deal that I was going to be staying. 

When that ended I tried to make my move. I knew it was about to get bad. And...I get stopped by a couple of coworkers. They wanted to get a group picture since my friend was in town. I was having a hard time getting out of this conversation. I kept feeling like they thought I was being a bitch because I wasn't wanting to stay. I could feel the anxiety welling up and exiting through tears. They know I'm pretty strict about masks and distancing, but that wasn't what this was about. One said that we could do one the next time my friend visited. I was on the edge of full on crying. I wanted her to understand that it wasn't a mask issue or a being too close issue. This really was, strictly about my general anxiety issues. 

I leave the building and there is someone I really needed to say goodbye. She was right there, otherwise I wouldn't have sought her out when I was such a wreck. But, she was there. Then I went to my car and was able to get relief. 

I made my exit, in one of the worst ways possible for me, but I got out.

Things need to get better as my last entry shows. Things need to improve. But, I can't force things to happen. My head doesn't work that way. Until everything is figured out, I'm stuck in this hell in which I'm pulling back, isolating, and avoiding.

I'm bad, but not in the good "Bad" way

I'd say it's been a month of dealing with the mess of mental illness, probably longer. I've pulled back, retreated, isolated and not for COVID. The world is, in fact, too much and I can't tell you how this ride is going to go. This is going to be a trip in my head as it has been recently.

I'm afraid, like seriously afraid of 45 winning in November. I'm not thrilled at the idea of Biden, but I would say, "President Biden" with ease. I don't think I've actually ever referred to 45 as "President". I'm concerned the Bernie people will do a protest "vote" by not showing up and, therefore, voting in the incumbent. 

I'm surprisingly not as scared about COVID as people think or expect. I'm just frustrated that there are people who aren't taking it seriously. I'm also annoyed that wearing a mask is such an issue. Just wear it. Protect people, loved ones or not.

So, Shawn kind of put a suggested ban on me watching MSNBC. 

That stuff is so minor compared to how really bad things are.

I don't want to leave the house. Not because of COVID. I don't want to go out except when I walk Jarvis. I have to really work on convincing myself to do it. I put everything off. I need Shawn to be with me. I suck it up for work...that's because Shawn and Jarvis coming to work with me didn’t work out well. We thought Jarvis would love to have a yard to play in, but he knew I was in the building and that didn't work for him. Shawn takes me to the bank. He goes grocery shopping with me. The anxiety is so much. We shopped at Costco the other day and I cried in the Fish Oil section because none of the brands had the right potency. And, if I bought enough to make up the difference, the cost would be too much.

I get my shit kind of together to do work, respond to work emails, update our account on a pet search site. Otherwise, I don't communicate much with anyone but Shawn, Jarvis, my mom, and my BFF - Shawn and Jarvis being the most. I just can't right now with so many things.

My bedtimes vary. Super early some days and really late on others. I sleep late and stay in bed a lot.

The anxiety is terrible and the meds aren't working. A change to the meds is being worked on. As many who deal with mental illness know, med changes are tough. They can take a long time to start working. It can be a couple months. I'm not sure I have that in me right now. 

Shawn is amazing. He is super talented and I'm not going to deny that I'm jealous - or envious - whichever sounds less like an asshole. He just has so much going on in his life and that's not including taking care of me.

I used to be proud of myself, I think. Maybe I just used to be less hateful toward myself. I had a real, significant income that helped us out. I mean, I was making double payments on our fertility treatments to get them paid down as quickly as possible. Now, I can't imagine what I could possibly do. 

I cry. I cry about all the things. I can't tell you what it will be about. I mean, I cried in public about Fish Oil. I cry at TV shows and movies. I cry taking a bite of dinner. I cry in bed while using my coloring app on my phone. I cry when I fail at something, like spilling something. I cry at moments of pride about Conner, so that's kind of an okay thing to choke up over. I cry.

Lately, I've been thinking that ECT fucked me up. That it made me worse. My anxiety leads to vomiting and diarrhea (TMI?). I don't remember that before. But, I don't remember a lot of things from that time. 

My avoiding messages and not being active on social media is not you, it's me. It is really me. I can't handle myself right now and so I can't handle things and people outside of myself. I'm sorry if that is hurtful, but truly, I mean it, it's no you, it's me.

I don't know when I'll be back. There is so much more to everything in my head than what I've written here. Too much, really. I need to figure things out.

My independent study is in session and my white ass is in attendance

I know a lot. I did well in school. What do I know the most? That I don’t know a lot. 

With all that has been happening for countless years to People of Color is, for me, something I only know the tip of the iceberg about. For me to know, for me to understand, the onus is on me to learn. I need to read. I need to watch. I need to listen. 

POC have been teaching me for years. Not holding a class and teaching me as their student in a classroom. They have given me every opportunity to read, watch, and listen and it’s up to me to take note. It’s up to me to join their journey, not as a leader, but as a follower as I continue to learn and then side-by-side, perhaps. Moving always while watching and listening. 

Listening is an important word. I use it instead of hearing. Hearing is passive. I can hear things without having to pay attention. When you listen, you are active; you are parsing the words being said. That is important. I can hear “Black Lives Matter” and it’s just three words, three sounds. When I listen to “Black Lives Matter”, I start to think about what that means. And, when I move from listening to learning, I come to understand what is meant by the phrase. Also, I learn just how many don’t understand. 

I’ve also learned that being “color blind” is not what many POC want to be told. When someone says they are “color blind” or “don’t see color,” it can be an attempt at trying to say we are equal; you are just like me. Well, the way of the world right now shows we are not equal, that’s the problem. And, even if we were living under circumstances showing us to be equal, we are not the same. I want my white, freckled skin to be seen just as I want my black freckled friend’s skin to be seen. The array of colors we have all evolved into should be celebrated, not supposedly unseen. 

Through my struggles, I can breathe. There's the difference.

It's been my experience that people who have a hard day or are struggling for some reason will tell me that they no it is nothing like what a live with regularly. Comparing struggles, I guess I would call it, is something I've touched on before. I try to tell them that my struggles don't minimize theirs, that struggles are relative. I try to really believe that. I have to admit, though, that there are times when I think, "IT'S A FUCKING HANGNAIL!" 

Lately, my struggles have been real. There's been major anxiety with physical manifestations. A lot of tears of both sadness and anger. Then some pretty high moments, for a little while, only to crash. So, I'm struggling and having a hard time listening to some people with theirs.

And then...I'm pretty sure events of the world are putting me in my place and saying, "You think you're struggling, well, hold my beer."

I turn on the TV, I go on social media and I'm overwhelmed. I see:

George Floyd.

Breonna Taylor.

Ahmaud Aubery. 

And so on.

And so on.

And so on.

Hate crimes toward all people of color.

Throughout the history of this country.

No boundaries are set where anxiety goes

Things have been all over the place, still, since my last post. Lots of crying, some anger. Down and down with little up.

The other day I was so upset with dealing with passwords I bounced between tears and anger. I actually threw my phone. This, no matter what I'm feeling, has never been a thing. I can't think of a time when I've thrown something in anger.

Today, serious emotional hot messiness. I cried about going to the bank. This is something I do every week (going to the bank, not the crying about it). There is a branch that is more practical for me to go to than the one I already use. It is so dumb to cry over, but it was really stressing me out. Shawn was telling me just to keep going where I go. That it isn't so far that going to the other matters so much. It isn't worth the anxiety. He's right, but I want to be a grown-up. I want to not have these feelings of panic and stress over something that any normal person does everyday.

I've also been dealing with anxiety over things much larger than my small bubble of life. In my white, middle-aged woman life, I can go out with very little worries about my safety. It gets to be too much when I see vile treatment toward minorities. I feel like I should watch the videos. That I should see what happened because what happened was too much to be ignored. But, I also know the limits of my emotional and mental tolerance...

I woke up to the Christian Cooper/Amy Cooper video. The WHITE woman was in the wrong. The BLACK man felt the need to record the incident. This woman is a terrible person. She knew the power she has over a black man. The way she made the call and the escalation and exaggeration in that call should make all people angry. As a white woman, I need to look at this woman's behavior so as not to be complacent, to never let it happen in front of me. In this story, Christian Cooper is the very lucky survivor of what was   

There are the other racist actions...much worse results, but the racism is still racism. The names people should know are Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd. Racism buried them and many more. So many names should be listed here. These are the most recent in the news cycle that I get my news from. I can't imagine a life in which I have to fear the things that killed each of these people. My heart goes out to all of those who have lost people to the overwhelming evil that is racism.

Shawn wrote a great reflection on racism that I wanted to share:

"The word "racist" has done a lot of harm to white people.

No, not because it's hurtful or inaccurate or undeserved. It's harmed us because it lets us off the hook.

Most white people think of "racist" as a binary. Either you are one or you're not. That makes it really easy for us to form a very clear picture of what a racist is -- a Klan member, a Nazi, someone who uses racial slurs, etc. -- and proudly proclaim that we are not that. Who, me? I can't be a racist; I never use the "n" word!

Having absolved ourselves, we dust our hands and feel good about being so woke. There's no need for self reflection, no need for personal growth. We aren't that bad thing, so let's think about something more pleasant.

The problem is, no one is 100% free of racial biases (or gender, sexuality, class, or any other kind of bias). Biases are hammered into us from the day we're born by our friends and family, pop culture, religion, politicians, society itself. We spend our whole lives marinating in a soup of biases, some fairly benign, some decidedly not. So how could we avoid picking some of them up?

It's not enough to simply be "not racist". We have to do more; we have to dig deeper. We have to examine our biases honestly and work to educate ourselves. Because what is bias but applied ignorance? The only way to unlearn a bad lesson is to learn a good one. And there are plenty of good lessons out there, for those who are willing to learn.

Am I a racist? I try not to be, but it's a work in progress."

So, my anxiety knows no boundaries. Personal to worldwide issues, I will always find stressors. I'll have to figure some things out, but as Shawn says, "...it's a work in progress."

Anxiously anxious

The other day I had a phone appointment with my psychiatrist. I was telling her about my anxiety and the physical manifestations I've been having when it's at its worst. She asked when I'm feeling the anxiety. Shawn is in my appointments a lot of the time to give a realistic perspective. So, when she asked this, he said that I feel anxiety daily. Some level of anxiety is my baseline of existence. I told her that when it is higher than normal I have diarrhea. There are nights, maybe once a month, where I have both diarrhea and vomiting.

Here's the stream lately. Not knowing how to do certain technological things. Freaking out and needing Shawn to come help. Work - stress having me go from one extreme to another as far as roles and feeling deemed lesser. Money. We are okay, but not okay enough to be able to do remodeling and landscaping. People not wearing masks to protect others, especially when I'm wearing one to protect them. The president, always. A friendship I don't understand the status of and so I've withdrawn and am sick to my stomach regularly. Not feeling like I can do anything. Stressing over trying to practice mindfulness because my mind is full. So, my attempts to relax my way out of anxiousness have led me to greater anxiousness. I feel like I don't follow the rules of the experience, which misses the point, in a way.

So, what's next? Blood work. Results that will be used to determine what to do about my meds. Will my thyroid be the problem? Will my Lamictal level show that a change in that med is necessary? Will Paxil, in a very low dose, be added to help with the anxiety in addition to the Ativan I already take? Will that small dose of Paxil have the effect that it tends to have for Bi-Polar patients? So many questions. What will the answers be?

Excuse me while I go deal with my anxious stomach.

Just wear it

There are so many things going on right now. Things that are divisive. A different view on the handling of matters related to COVID. I have changed the way I do my job. My therapist and I have appointments over the phone. It seems like forever ago that we had an in office visit and who knows when we'll go back to them. I don't mind these things if they are going to keep Shawn, me and others safe.

Our life has changed in other ways. We were kind of homebodies before all of this, me more so than Shawn. It is kind of funny to me that being someone who stays home a lot was different when it was my choice, but when it had become a government order, I was a little annoyed. With all of this, we go out in public the least amount necessary and when we're out, it is for the shortest time needed to get things done. We wear our masks. Do I find them comfortable? No. But, I wear a mask to protect others from the chance I am infected. I wish those who don't wear them had the same consideration for us. 

This train

Sometimes the train of thought I travel is so odd. 

Yesterday, Shawn was talking about Trump. For some reason, I started to think about the way he sways back and forth when someone is talking. I have the sense that he is completely distracted as he does it. Someone else is speaking and he just doesn't give a shit.

After playing out that visual, my train moved on to the next stop. I started to think about the movement of someone holding a baby or small child. It's not the same as Trump's movement, but it has a certain rhythm. It's also contagious. I've caught myself doing it when being around the person who is actually holding the child.

Leaving the station now to make the next stop.

As I thought about the baby holding movement, it reminded me of a time years ago. When I was going through all the convent stuff and thinking about that life, I was at mass. There was a woman holding her baby and doing the baby sway. I caught myself moving, too. Then it was time to sit and I kept watching her. My thoughts moved to how to continue with my life's path, I was consciously choosing to never have children. Convent life meant never being called, "Mama".

Making way to the railroad switch. 

A thought about a swaying baby which turned to a thought about swaying with a baby, moves childlessness.

As we know, if you've been around to read some posts, the convent thing didn't not play out. So, I no longer had to choose not to have a child. I could happily make that choice. Well, I could choose to try to get pregnant. But, infertility meant never being called, "Mama".

Mourning the dead in the age of COVID

The other day I had a terrible night of very little sleep, dry heaving, and overall anxiety. I asked Shawn to drive me to the office so I could get mail and other work to bring home. We drove by a cemetery. It had COVID testing signs. I couldn't help but think it seemed so morbid, but at the same time I understood how convenient it really is as far as the long stretches of road.

When we made our way back, there were groups of people on the sidewalk along the fence outside the cemetery. I thought that perhaps they were there for testing. I thought that would be odd as far as distancing and the tendency to have people drive through to get tested.

As we got closer, I could see a tent with a casket ready to be lowered into the grave. There were six people seated in chairs well spaced apart. There was a minister of some sort standing at the casket. Then, we made the connection that all of the people were there for the graveside service. All of these people with no way to celebrate the life and mourn the loss with a gathering of family and friends other than at a distance, along a fence.

On this topic, my dad's cousin lost his sister-in-law the other day. His wife had to deal with not being able to hold a tradition funeral. She worked with her minister to do a tele-service. A conference call, basically. That has to be so difficult.

Even as a person who practices no religion, who is an atheist, I can acknowledge mourning the dead in some form or another. Celebrating a life and mourning a death is simply a part of our lives as human beings. Hopefully, soon, life will get back to a place in which people can honor the dead in they way they find best.

Connect the dots

This is going to start off a little weird, like not 100% fitting to the post as a whole.

When I was little, like early elementary school, I was pretty familiar with funerals. My dad's aunts and uncles had started to die. I remember his grandmother dying. She lived in a nursing home a good drive away. She had broken her hip and then developed pneumonia. So, I came to associate breaking a hip with dying. I didn't really understand the pneumonia part, but in my mind, the two were connected.

As I grew up, I discovered that a broken hip doesn't cause pneumonia. I started to understand the connection of the broken hip to pneumonia was only that being bed ridden caused fluid to build up. Being as old as my great-grandmother was, all of these things created the perfect storm for her to be unable to combat the pneumonia.

Pneumonia.

Come the late 80s. The AIDs epidemic was making its way through the world. Our little corner of the world was not safe. My dad's cousin was infected, full blown AIDs, not HIV. Then, that word, pneumonia, crept into our vocabulary again. When he passed away, AIDs, itself, was not the cause, was not listed as the cause of death. I learned that his death was from pneumonia. There was no broken hip involved in this case. There was AIDs and the suppression of his immune system. So, it was death by pneumonia due to the immunosuppression from AIDs.

COVID-19

Here we are, 2020 and a pandemic. I know pneumonia has played a part in this. I have a friend who was infected and ended up with pneumonia. She has recovered, thankfully. But, is it really surprising to have pneumonia rear it's ugly face?

I'm going to stop with the pneumonia talk, but not with the cause and effect piece of how health conditions can connect.

Governor Cuomo of New York recently adjusted the number of COVID related deaths causing an increase to the statistics. And.......then comes 45 and his COVID briefing. He gets in his expert over all the things mode and criticizes Cuomo. He implied it was an attempt to make things look worse than they are. Well Dr. 45, MD, shut the fuck up. A patient with COVID can have other health problems arise. So, yes, it is possible to have a fatal heart attack due to COVID. Let real doctors, not lackeys, but real doctors who are fighting along with all other types of medical personnel to educate the masses.

We live in the WTF-iest of times.

PANDEMIC. A board game. A very difficult board game involving viruses; infections; outbreaks; and epidemics. It can make you hate the colors red, yellow, blue, and black. We most definitely lost more games than we won. We failed the world...on a game board. At least for now, it was only on a game board.

COVID-19 has hit the world and hit it hard. It is horrifying. Watching the impact on Italy has been absolutely devastating. Then to see the U.S. in the line of fire from this virus has become heartbreaking. Part of the heartbreak comes from the person in the White House doing the absolute opposite of instilling confidence.

It is crazy the varying degrees of this. I have a friend who was infected. She was on oxygen, but didn't need to be hospitalized. She's on her road to recovery. Then, I have another friend who posted on Facebook a request for her mother-in-law who was diagnosed. The next day, she posted that her mother-in-law had died. Two extremes. That is how fucked up all of this is.

Things this has me thinking about are overwhelming at times. Like, my dad. He's 83 and not a healthy guy, see my posts back in August-October of last year. For him, there would not be a mild case. So I have the thoughts of him dying. I have those thoughts in general, but because of this, I think about it more. Things like, if he were to be infected and pass away, would I be able to travel. Probably not. It's likely that a funeral wouldn't be able to be held. I wouldn't be missing that. But, the idea of this happening and not being able to get to my mom is more than I can handle at times.

It's a strange time of heartbreaking and heartwarming moments existing along side of each other. Videos from medical personnel sharing the horror of their experiences just pains me to watch. The idea that you can drop your loved one at the hospital, not be able to go in with them, and then have them admitted, and possibly even die without you seeing them since the drop-off. Addicts relapsing and, if they do go for help, they, too, are alone. It's a terrible time for loneliness.

But, then there are the heartwarming things. People cheering and making signs outside of medical facilities. In NYC, every evening at 7 pm, the time for shift change at hospitals, New Yorkers cheer and clap and honk and make noise whatever other way they can to show appreciation. Watching the creative ways families and friends find to "be" with each other are great. Zoom probably never expected to have such a boon in business. Videos of families doing things like song and dance performances are blowing up on the internet. Various musicians are doing live mini-concerts on Facebook and/or Instagram Live. Necessity has been said to be the mother of invention many times before and I believe she is proving to be the mother of creativity.

So, stay home. Stay safe. Stay healthy. Save lives.

The 7 year bitch

Every year, around this time, is a bitch. It’s not because of my birthday. I don’t meet that age denying female stereotype. I’m more of a “meh” person about my age. This is a deeply painful time of year.

If you’ve kept up with this blog you should already know about my fertility issues. Seven years ago we went through around of IVF. We only got to do one round. My eggs were few and quality was low. The embryos were implanted just around my 38th birthday (just got off the phone with my dad and he mentioned he was 38 when I was born. Just thought it was interesting) and the implantation failed. I saw the blood and knew it was over. Those few days were terrible and are forever connected to my birthday.

This year, I’m ringing in 45 with a stressful time at work and the COVID-19 pandemic. No birthday date night with dinner at a restaurant of my choosing. I should, however, mention the positive side of things with Facebook birthday well wishes.

Should you go back again?

I've been having some real moments lately. Crying spells and exhaustion. Sometimes I think about ECT. Thoughts sometimes that maybe I should revisit, even with the amnesia experience, I sometimes wonder if I should. Shawn tells me that it didn't do what we had hoped the first time, so why would we go through it again? Why? Well, it's a legit reason to sleep the day away. At least treatment days. The amnesia sucks, but sometimes, not so much.

Sometimes.

Shaky McShakesmore

It's been going on for quite a while. I have shaky hands, particularly the right, of course. It has to be my dominant one. I've looked up the side effects of my various drugs and from my ECT treatments. I couldn't find anything about it being from ECT. Lithium seems to be the likely culprit. Lithium also can contribute to my memory issues, more short term, minor things than ECT has caused. This can hopefully get worked out with new medical insurance and a new psychiatrist.

Last weekend and this week have hit me particularly hard when it comes to the fine motor skill trouble. I've been pretty down for a while now, but more so this last week. I found some art supplies that I haven't used in years. I thought maybe I should try to do some stuff, do more than sit around with my laptop and the TV. So I picked up the pens and the pad of drawing paper to get going. I was trying to go back to my days of abstract design.

I couldn't do it. The right hand wouldn't allow a straight line. I couldn't make a shake-less arch or loop. It brought me to tears of frustration. I can't imagine that I would be able to do a portrait such as this again:

I also tried to paint the way I used to. I did a water effect with a wide sponge-brush, but I haven't had it in me to really try to paint the fish I want to do. Smaller details are so difficult.

There are many other things. Things that you probably take for granted. Things that start to make me cry or to make me extremely frustrated. Sometimes, using a fork is a challenge. Not for big things that you stab, like a piece of meat. But, trying to eat something like rice or something like coleslaw can be a really annoyance. Scooping with a spoon isn't too bad, but getting the spoon to my mouth can be tough sometimes. Pouring things can sometimes be a problem, but not always. 

Trying to turn pages or separate pieces of paper can make me seize up and want to throw the things across the room. Writing isn't always a problem, but there are moments. This week I used a drill and screwdrivers. While holding the tool with my right hand, I need my left hand to hold the end to place it into the head of the screw. Once I do that, my right hand can handle the turning, for the most part. But, if the screwdriver slips, I need my left hand to swoop in and grab the end and place it in the screw head again. 

I know it could be worse, a lot worse. But, that doesn't change how bad I feel when facing these things. It sucks. Among many other things, it makes me cry and can cause me to fall into one of my lows. 

Maybe it's the Lithium. Maybe the new insurance will lead to a better doctor who can come up with a better treatment.

Until then, I'll be Shaky McShakesmore.

Oh, my boys

Me: Dammit, Jarvis, don't eat all that goose poop!

Jarvis: Oh, I'm sorry... did you want some?

UPDATE - Another walk

Before the walk:

Jarvis: Okay, let's go! Let's get out the door! Let's head out! Like now, like right now...

Me: Hang on, Buddy, I have to put on my socks.

Jarvis: Okay, your socks are on, now let's go!

Me: I just have to get my shoes on...

Jarvis: Great, got the shoes, now it's Walk Time!

Me: Just a second, I need my jacket...

Jarvis: Oh, for fuck's sake!

During the walk:

Jarvis: How are humans the dominant species on the planet?

Me: What do you mean?

Jarvis: "Oh, I'm a human, I can't go outside without shoes, or I'll hurt my dainty pink feet! It's too cold to go out without a jacket! My human skin is so sensitive!" What's all that blubber for if not insulation?

Me: It's not "blubber"... It's just, you know... cookies are delicious...

After the walk:

Jarvis: Hey, where's my treat?

Me: Since you're so advanced, I figured you could get it yourself.

Jarvis: What?

Me: Yeah, just stand erect and use your opposable thumbs to open the freezer. Oh, wait...

Jarvis: That's cold, man. That's real cold.

Simply ordinary

Last night, Shawn and I had our typical Tuesday movie night. As I sat in my reclining seat with my Coke Icee with Shawn at my side watching a movie (about Fox News nonetheless) I couldn’t help to think how lucky we were to be sitting in the theater. We were able to be a captive audience to the world of major motion pictures. Despite the disaster of diplomacy created by the pathetic and unstable 45 who is bringing us to war, we were safe from missile strikes. Our ordinary lives remained ordinary. We weren’t at risk of destruction of our home, loss of friends and family, our lives forever changed by the effects of climate change causing wild fires previously unimaginable.

Here we are today. Shawn, across the hall working in the home office; me, sitting on our bed prepping a deposit surrounded by paperwork from cat and dog adoptions; and, Jarvis at my feet. No smokey air from missiles outside. No smokey air from climate change created wild fires outside. Just birds chirping and cars passing with Jarvis’ occasional growl for our protection from the UPS guy.

We are so fortunate in our ordinariness.