THIS MOMENT

I've been waiting for a day of high spirits, quirky humor, elation, and excitement to sit down and write this end-of-year post.  This is literally the last day of 2020 and I've not yet found that combination of good cheer to end my blog this year.  So, here goes... 

2020 was hard.  HARD!  But I'm not one to wish for the rapid passage of time.  I see lots of people writing about relief that 2020 is soon behind us.  In my mind, in my life, not one thing will change from today to tomorrow.  "Years" are a human construct; the events of one year or another are just among other long chains of events over time.  It's the present moment that is real...nothing past (only a memory), nothing future (only a guess).  Right now.  Right now.  This is what we have.

I have had to remind myself of this over and over and over again to stay sane in this time of Covid-19.  Fear, anxiety, sadness, loneliness, disappointment, despair, anger, RAGE (I'm looking at you GOP), had to be tempered repeatedly with the mantra "this moment", "this moment", "this moment".  I'm not always successful.  Ask Hub how many times he's had to listen as I processed fear, bitterness, sadness, and despair amongst tears that would not abate.  

But with the passage of time and the determination not to succumb to Depression and Anxiety Demons, over this year (and the previous) I have worked through many of my old behavior patterns, have grown in who I am, strengthening my resilience muscles, trusting my inner wisdom, finding courageous independence, and acting on my own behalf.  I feel I'm no longer swayed in the winds, no longer afraid of invisible monsters (we are all living with one, and know how to keep it at bay!), no longer longing for relationships that cannot be the way I want them to be.  My biggest pandemic lesson -- LET GO!  Or better yet, LET BE!  Embrace me, honor myself, live as I want to live, set boundaries, ask for what I want (I may or may not get it);  but know others will not act upon love as I act upon love: everyone is different, everyone will live as they do, almost no one will do it as I'd prefer, at least as consistently. Let go of longing.  Let go of trying so damned hard.  And just let be what is.

I had hoped (see above) that even with the physical distance, I could somehow (I tried lots of things!) bring my family closer together; we'd check in on each other more often, no longer able to count on seeing each other for those weekly dinners, etc etc.  Nope.  I tried reaching out frequently -- sending messages of encouragement and dropping gifts at doorsteps or in the mail, setting up Zoom calls, creating backyard distanced picnics.  I rarely felt my efforts reciprocated.  Does this mean my family doesn't love me?  That's how it felt to me. I just didn't understand how others would not think to call or text me several times a week.  I have friends who hear from their adult children daily.  DAILY!  Not in this family.  I've done too good a job emptying the nest apparently. 

I know how deeply I'm loved by my sons and their wives, but I can't by force of will create conditions for them to reassure me of that or to want to share the daily details of their lives with me.  So, finally, I stopped.  I wish it was different.  It is not.  A wish is not reality; it is a grasping for what my mind tells me I want.   We share a FB family messenger page and occasional informational texts, very occasional outdoor get-togethers, and holiday Zoom meet-ups.  I received perfect heartfelt gifts for Christmas.  Those avenues have been fun, funny, interesting, satisfying...and I'm grateful for that.  

This is all hard to explain, but the bottom line is this:  Others will live as they do.  I can wish or I can accept.  I choose to accept.  I feel stronger, more independent, and far less sad and disappointed.  Every situation is a choice point.  In the past two years I've had hard choice points to face.  In my marriage I've had to choose to set boundaries, to trust, to let go of expectations, to allow.  In my extended family I've had to choose to hold fast to distancing from those I love in spite of the pain of doing so.  In my own life, I've chosen to explore my inner landscape and to challenge myself to take risks; to move toward willingness which gets me to "yes" more quickly than the "maybe" that kept me dithering with pro and con lists.  I've chosen, over and over, to embrace my life in a way I have not in the past.  It has been a sometimes painful time of transition for me to a stronger more independent and more confident Self.  Some may believe I was always there...they are wrong.  I feel the difference.

So, yes, a new calendar year is on the horizon.  I have no idea what it will hold for me/us.  I am hopeful that a new Administration can begin to rebuild our democracy, right some of the wrongs, bring compassion back to our public policy.  I am hopeful the vaccines for Covid-19 will begin to wrestle this monster to the ground and our lives can again include hugs with loved ones; I am most hopeful my granddaughters will be able to visit us/spend the night and that our previously close relationship will  grow ever closer with shared experiences again. I am hopeful I'll continue to be blessed with physical health, emotional stability, and psychological growth.  Every moment is a choice point: I choose hope. 

Yet still I know all I have is "this moment...this moment....this moment..."

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

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

SIGH

I've been fighting all day NOT to write this blog post.  But my promise to tell the truth about my life is prompting me forward.  I have to believe we are all struggling -- maybe not in exactly the same way, but close enough.  See if you can relate...

December in American culture is the Christmas season -- whether sacred or secular you can't escape it.  There are traditions that are sacrosanct: lights, trees, Santas, carols, gifts, foods, parties, family gatherings.  This year there is also a deadly and highly contagious virus floating on the air amongst us.  This wrecks havoc with the way things are supposed to be.  

Throughout much of the past year we've dealt with inconveniences and disappointments and cancelled plans because of the Covid-19 pandemic.  We should be used to it; more resilient by now.  But THIS IS CHRISTMAS!  NOBODY MESSES WITH CHRISTMAS!  Right?

Here are the current stats:  U.S. 18.5 million confirmed cases; 325,000 deaths.  In my county: 19,000 cases, 338 deaths.  And it's getting worse.  Everywhere case numbers are rising.  Deaths are over 3,000 daily in the U.S. 

Given these grim statistics, what are we to do about Christmas?  Some, of course, are doing as they normally would, ignoring all pleas from responsible politicians and public health officials to please, please, please not travel or gather at Grandma's house.  The deniers have shown up at super spreader events throughout this nightmare, cocksure that the virus doesn't pertain to them, facts be damned.  A lot of them are getting away with it personally (who knows how many others they've infected or how much they increased the burden on health care providers?) but some have not and have lost their lives or at least life as they knew it. No matter, apparently.  No lesson learned.

But some of us have taken strict precautions, sacrificing holidays and hugs from the grandkids, trips, errands, haircuts, and dental appointments.  We've only seen the people we love via Zoom.  Nothing about our lives has been normal for nearly a year.  With two vaccines now approved and rolled out to the first priority recipients, we can see light at the end of the tunnel -- but must wait our turn in the queue -- which will take months to complete.  

While waiting we come up against Christmas, already a highly emotional holiday.  This year I find I am both relieved of any expectations of creating the holiday magic AND deeply disappointed and in grief about cancelling any family gatherings.  I won't see the grandkids opening their gifts, no Christmas Eve buffet with all the goodies we bring and share, no family jigsaw puzzles where Hub and my daughters-in-law reign, no Son-One naps by the fireplace, no hugs and laughs  and stories and memories to be made.  We will be each in their own little square on the Zoom app on the computer for an hour or so at some point.  That's it.  

We tried to negotiate a way around it.  We all say we are being "careful" but each part of our little extended family has a slightly different definition of careful and trying to accommodate that proved to be too hard.   We thought we'd be pretty safe if we were outside on our covered porch, heaters going, but with food and gifts and kids, we knew we couldn't distance enough or keep masks on...it just got too logistically daunting. Tensions rose at our house trying to figure this out; frustration reigned for all with each shift of plan.  So, we just called it off; not in anger but in defeat.  No one is happy.  Everyone is resigned.  We all still love and respect each other.  And this whole thing sucks.

I take comfort in knowing that we are sacrificing for a greater good -- our continued health and that of those we love and those in our community.  I take comfort in knowing that sometime in the coming months we will get the vaccine and can make up for lost time.  

Still, this is Christmas.  This is hard.  Harder than the other losses of togetherness.  Hub and I will be alone for the holiday for the first time in the 52 years of our relationship (48 married).  That's a weird thing.  But we are not the only ones in this situation and we are blessed to have each other and a warm comfortable home to isolate within.  I count my blessings....as the tears fall.

If you feel similarly, I see you.  I'm with you.  We can do this.  But we don't have to put a smiley face on it every damn minute.  

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

HALLMARK MEMORIES

Well, I had my usual little pre-Christmas cry yesterday.  My mother, gone for 12-1/2 years now, always comes for a visit in December haunting my bittersweet memories of Christmases past.  Every year, now fully aware of the work and worry and love that went into creating Christmas magic for the family, I think of her with deep love and gratitude.  The decorations, gifts, foods, traditions, gatherings...all of it was basically hers to do.  My dad helped with the tree.  It was a division labor in tune with the times.  She didn't seem to mind, and likely couldn't have imagined it any other way, but I know now how much effort went into making the holiday season shiny and bright for a family who mostly took it all for granted.

I know because I've felt the same at times, some years more than others.  I used to go all out with gatherings, outings, and festivities that ran us all ragged and so many traditions we almost had no room for spontaneity.  If I didn't create the Hallmark Christmas and others didn't respond in kind, I'd feel a failure.  Thankfully, over recent years I've left that self-imposed pressure behind.  Less work, relaxed expectations, more help from grown sons and my daughters-in-law and an appreciation for all Hub contributes and always has; I just was too much in my own world of striving for perfection to see it.

Over the past few years I've cut back dramatically on the home holiday decor; this year even more.  I hauled all the bins down from the attic, sorted through them all and chose about 1/8 of the stash of holiday bric a brac to display.  I chose favorite things or things easy to get out and put away.  At first I thought I'd just skip it all this year, but that didn't feel right.  It's still Christmas, after all.  Even if no one will be here to see my home for the holidays, Hub and I will be here and a little Christmas cheer and a tradition or two is nice, even in this most NON-traditional year.

My tears were also triggered yesterday by deciding to turn on some Christmas music.  Alexa chose a "holiday favorites" station for me and right out of the gate there was Dean Martin singing "Let It Snow".  I was transported to my childhood, singing along with my dad to these oldies on the car radio.  I was in the warm kitchen, dancing with him as mom baked.  I was parked in front of the TV, watching the Christmas specials with my mom and grandma, who lived with us.  Mom loved the Andy Williams and Perry Como shows, my grandma loved Lawrence Welk.  I loved them all -- the songs, the decorations, the holiday outfits, the fake snow...

Which brings me to a new tradition this year for Hub and me.  We are watching Hallmark Christmas movies together every night.  There are dozens of them!  I had not been a Hallmark Christmas gal until last year when my daughter in-law's good friend, a New York actress/singer, had a small part in one of them.  Of course I had to watch.  And I loved it.  I watched a couple more and vowed that this year I'd go all in.  

I tried to get Hub interested, but naturally he declined with a bit of an eye roll.  "You go ahead; I'm not interested."  I continued to tease and cajole, until one night, in a moment of tenderness toward me I guess, he said he'd watch one with me, as a lark.  He liked it!  We've had a nightly date now for over a week and look forward to the most recent incarnation of the usual plot (a variation on about three themes), evaluating the Christmas decor, locations, sets, costuming, wholesomeness (every time the drink of choice is "hot coco" we laugh), the chaste love story (apparently it takes only one week to find the true love of your life) that is consummated with the final scene kiss.  It's silly good fun.

I think this Covid-19 holiday season we are looking for some escape from the sadness, the isolation, the loss of tradition, the grief of missing families and friends gathering.  Watching it play out in the fantasy of a Hallmark movie somehow makes me feel less deprived.  

I get up every morning in the early darkness, and sit by my tree, lit but to date still without ornaments, looking around at the sparse decorations and feel grateful for all I have.  And I think of my mom, so near to me this time of year, wishing she could be here for Christmas too, one more time.

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