SNOW, SNOW, GO AWAY...

We currently have about 4 or so inches of snow on the ground at my house.  It's breathtakingly beautiful to look out upon since I can see the city and port before me and the wooded ravine in the back and everything is covered in white. 

Now I want it to go away.

I'm having a friendly back and forth with snow-loving friends.  They tease me.  It's OK.  I understand that many people love the snow, especially here in the Northwest where the ski resorts beckon; many love the exhilaration of a downhill run or at least the cool factor of hanging around the lodge.  Some just like the look and feel of a wintry day.

Hub is a snowboarding fanatic and is making his slow way home today, through rotten driving conditions due to winter storms in the mountains, after 10 days on the slopes of Idaho.  Nope, I don't get it.  I don't like to be cold and I can't imagine putting slippery slices of wood under my feet, facing downhill.  I've never been athletic and have a visceral fear of the out of control feeling of falling which inevitably ends (gravity!) in a "thunk" that is painful at least in the moment and often for days and possibly weeks/months in a cast.  If I can choose not to do that, why would I choose otherwise?  Maybe the adrenalin rush just isn't that important to me.

I've tried cross-country skiing.  It's hard.  And cold.  I've tried snowshoeing, which is basically hiking on very big awkward spikes.  It's hard for while until you get the hang of it, but it's tiring.  And cold.  Both endeavors have left me in tears more than once, feeling like a wimp and a failure.  I've tried tobogganing and sledding but I'm not a fan of the go fast downhill, "omygod I'm gonna flip", feeling.  And it's cold.

Maybe it is the cold, more than the snow.  I dress appropriately,  but I feel so bound and restricted and just uncomfortable in all those layers of down and Gortex.  My feet never, ever stay warm enough.

Plus, I grew up in northern Illinois, where winters were frigid and the reason we left.

I have un-fond memories of years of scraping icy windshields, unfreezing door locks, shoveling out of parking places, sliding on icy streets (resulting in 10 scalp stitches after one car accident), falling in icy parking lots, enduring teeth-chattering windchills, jumping dead-battery cars, sitting on ice cold carseats, breathing such frigid cold air that my chest hurt as I walked to and from the el station. I recall crying while beet red skin thawed out from exposure, causing needles of pain to erupt on my face, feet, and hands, after walking to and from my junior high school, a little over a mile each way.  (No, not uphill, but still...)

Forty-one years ago today (I looked up the dates), I experienced the "Chicago Blizzard of '79" when 30 inches of snow fell with winds blowing up to 40 MPH.  We were all snowed in; cars not moving.  We trudged through drifts of snow everywhere.  The snow stayed on the ground until March.  That's when Hub and I decided enough was enough.  The following year we left Chicago and have only been back for visits -- mostly not in Winter.

Winter has been a sad time too.  I note that everyone in my extended family so far (expect my mom, who waited until July) died in the chill days of Fall and Winter.  My Sister-in-Law in October, older brother in November, brother-in-law in December, Dad and younger brother in January.  I stood at my dad's graveside, a howling wind swirling the snow at the old country cemetery on the edge of a cornfield, windchill 30-below zero.  Dreary days.

I was happy to settle in a part of the country that has a milder, maritime climate.  Not too hot; not too cold; snow but infrequently and it doesn't last long.  Living near the mountains, the athletic men in my family learned to love snowboarding and I got to stay home, warm and happy.  Win-win.

So as I look out today, I'm thankful I have nowhere I have to be; I have everything I need.  Living on a hill up a sloping 100 ft driveway makes me nervous about slipping and sliding my way anywhere.  I'm grateful for my cozy house and hopefully brief wintry view from my windows.  I understand others feel differently, but for me, snowy days are about museums, movies, friend and family gatherings, fireplaces, tea cups, books...you know indoor pursuits.

At least, that's the view from here...©

DEAR ME,

I'm experimenting with a process that I have heard about for years, which I have tried before, but abandoned.

I'm writing letters to myself as a nurturing and affirming practice when I feel lost, neglected, depressed, anxious -- all those human feelings, stories, and emotions that we often eat, drink, drug, TV binge, sleep (choose your feel-better activity) away.

Almost four years ago I had a significant bout of depression and anxiety that landed me on the therapist's couch.  One of the things we worked on was my general predilection to minimize, deny, and abhor those parts of myself that need nurturing.  I push my 'childish' feelings down, but they remain hidden, hunkered down in a shadowed corner of my heart, while also almost simultaneously crying out, after sneaking around to take up residence in my oh so very busy and judgmental brain, berating me for my "neediness".

My therapist pointed out that there is no one on this earth who doesn't need nurturing on a daily basis.  That doesn't have to mean a constant supply of hugs and ice cream, but it does mean that the feelings we feel need to be expressed, then to be seen, heard, felt, known, and acknowledged, ideally by another. These are human desires of affirmation and connection.  We long to know we matter.

She taught me that radical self-acceptance is my 'go to' place when I start wishing something was different in my life.  I am just fine just as I am.  It's all good.  No one else can define for me who I should be.  Love myself for who I am in this moment.  I don't like some part of that "me"?  Gain insight, get help; change what I can or what I want to.  Accept that not everything I am meshes well with others and that's OK too.  Work on making that work; or not.

Often there is no way to change or get what I want from my life or from other people in this moment, so I must accept that I want something different than what is available to me.  And then trust myself to take needed action.  (A new president, as a trivial example, was one of the things that came up, jokingly, in counseling in the Spring of 2016.  I lamented, "But what if he wins?!?" And she smiled and said, "Accept what is real." Ugh!)

So after accepting myself as I am and acknowledging the realness of my situation, I was encouraged to find self-compassion.  Instead of diving into self-loathing depression or looking to others to "fix" my predicament, I must take care of my own tender heart.  So often we easily find compassion for others while being super hard-ass with ourselves.  We are the only ones who can love ourselves fully, but it takes practice.

So, lately I've had to think about the "realness" of a few situations in my life; I've had to accept that I am a person who wishes some things were different (others might find no fault with these situations -- we are all different), and that there is nothing wrong with the unique me for needing this.  Then I need to find compassion for my hurt places and take action to care for them.

That's where the letters come in.  I've been writing to myself, offering understanding, acknowledgement, compassion, words of affirmation.  I am taking care of myself.  It feels a wee bit lonely, as I long for others to give me the acknowledgement and understanding I need, but also very empowering to stop waiting for the impossible and just take care of myself.

I observe the existential aloneness that comes over me at times, a gut punch of recognition that we are singular beings in this realm who connect with others for only a moment before our unknown journey commences to whatever awaits us.  Who better to step up to nurture, care for, tend, and love our own sweet souls than ourselves?  We are, truly, the only ones who truly can.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

HAPPY NEW YEAR?

Let's stipulate that the world is a scary mess, still....yet....again.

I note that one week into 2020 the current administration has blustered, blundered, and lied the U.S. into an international crisis that endangers our military and may lead to another war in the Middle East and beyond.

Black and brown people continue to be detained at our borders and thrown into cells and cages in squalid conditions just for seeking legal refuge in the "land of the free".

The current occupier of the White House has been impeached in the House of Representatives, but the GOP-controlled Senate is pledging to support and work closely with the White House on a sham "trial" where they refuse to call witnesses to the president's wrongdoing.

The current White House occupant's son, a civilian, showed up on social media today grinning while clutching to his breast an AR 15-style assault rifle (the mass murderers weapon of choice), a military weapon even though this guy will never be called, nor volunteer, to serve our country in the military.  No, he's not the errant youngest child, loony black sheep of the family.  He is the eldest, 42 years old  and favored child, head of the family business dynasty. (Well, in name only; his daddy is likely still running the business, Constitutional prohibition be damned.) The gun is etched with the Christian cross symbol used in the Christian Crusades of the middle ages when Christians decided to rid the world of Muslims.  Also etched is a depiction of Hillary Clinton behind bars, in a nod to imprisoning innocent-of-any-crime political rivals.  So there's that, which about sums it all up.

I could go on and on.  Suffice to say, the shit-show of this Administration continues and we are all getting very, very edgy.

Oh, and Australia is on fire with the climate crisis consequences of global warming, burning like  Armageddon and killing tens of thousands of animals, spewing smoky particulate matter into the air and lungs, burning homes and homesteads...on and on...while some continue to deny the reality of climate change and continue to prop up the fossil fuel industry as if there is no tomorrow (and soon there won't be.)

It's all rather depressing.  My passion for politics as a means to equality, compassion, inclusion, fairness, life, liberty, safety -- democracy done right -- is still strong.  But there are times when I notice myself turning away from the news, skipping articles and stories that I previously would have read, in favor of obsessively watching old episodes of Outlander to calm my fraying nerves.  We are all fatigued.  We all need a break from the daily gaslighting, lying, evil-doing, and selfishness of this authoritarian- loving and -leaning president and his apologists and supporters.  Sigh.

What to do?  2020 is the election year we've all be waiting for.  The Democratic field started huge and hugely diverse with the white guys sharing time and space with women and people of color.  Well, naturally, we are down to the front runners being three white guys and a white women.  I confess to jumping all over the place in who I most support, but at no time have I been truly excited about any of these left standing.  So the nominee will be vastly better than what we have, but not as good as we could have had, in my judgement.  I'm a bit bummed about that.  Still, this is the year we roll up our sleeves and get to work!  (That pep talk feels false right now; I just want to go back to Outlander.)

I think that is part of the plan of the current Administration -- to wear us out, wear us down, create a feeling of overwhelm,  hopelessness, distraction, and exhaustion.  It's easier to have their way with a meek and downtrodden populace.  History shows this to be true.

So I will rally my energy!  I will join groups that keep me motivated and I will admit my dismay and keep going anyway.  I will end this blog post and call my Senators and Representatives urging them to stop the march toward war and to insist on a fair and lawful Senate impeachment trial, because too many fought and died for this country's vision, too many voiceless need my voice, because I can't live with myself if I don't do something.

Are you depressed by this post?  Me too.  The antidote is action.  Let's go!

At least, that's the view from here...©