TWO YEARS AGO TODAY - PATIENT ZERO

Two years ago today, the first "official" Covid case in the U.S. was diagnosed at a hospital 2.5 miles from my house.  What a journey we've all been on since then!

I can't even begin to recount, nor do I want to, the sad, scary, frustrating, hopeful, dismaying, lonely, grateful turns our lives have taken in this historic time.  I desperately wish this wasn't a thing I have to deal with in my latter years. Nor do I wish it upon my grandchildren in their most innocent years, nor anyone in between, really.  But here we are.

I'm most distressed about how slow our national leaders under the previous administration were to do anything substantive to help the people of our country -- wasting time on ridiculous denials, snake oil treatments, lack of testing capability, and anti-science, anti-scientist denigration of facts and expertise. 

I'm equally distressed that we have a ongoing battle between those who are taking responsible action by wearing masks and getting vaccinated and those who continue to yell "hoax" and deny that masking or vaccines work.  The spread of this virus and its emerging variants is the result, endangering us all.

And we are not just endangered by Covid and the most recent Omicron variant...the hospitals are full to capacity and unable to perform other procedures and surgeries.  I have friends who spent long untended hours lying on gurnies in short-staffed ER's only to be treated for their ailments as best they could and sent home when perhaps hospitalization would have been more beneficial.  I have a friend who, with a cancer diagnosis, had her surgery pushed back for months; another whose much-needed heart procedure has been postponed indefinitely.

By now I'm sure everyone knows someone who has contracted this virus, has been gravely ill, or even died, or has barely noticed it -- feeling little more than cold symptoms.  It's a treacherous bug, seemingly hitting randomly at times, but since vaccinations have been available the unvaccinated are at far, far greater risk.

Even with vaccinations, I know several friends and friends of friends who have recently contracted it.  Pre-vaccination, my son had it in early days of of the outbreak in 2020; post-vaccination and with a booster his wife got it just this past holiday season; last week my husband was exposed by a friend with whom he shared an apartment on a week-long snowboarding trip.

Yes. In spite of our extreme measures of "being careful" all this time, the virus got really close to Hub and me.  His friend tested positive the day before the end of their week together.  Hub called me with the startling news and we immediately went into troubleshooting mode. He would test the next day before he left and regardless of result would live for the next five days in his camper in the driveway, protecting me from possible exposure. 

His test was negative as he left to come home; he still moved into the camper.  We stayed apart, texting, talking on the phone, and masking to meet on our upstairs open air porch, sitting 10 feet apart, propane heater going, for an hour each evening. Yesterday was Day 5 of the recommended quarantine period and he was negative again so we've been reunited.  It's strange that this most contagious of variants hit one guy and spared another.  But there ya have the head-scratching nature of how this has been going from the beginning.  

They say Covid may always be with us now, peaking with new variants at times and ebbing at others.  We will get "comfortable" with learning to take precautions in greater or lesser stringent degree as the virus runs through its cycles.  We may need more frequent "booster" vaccinations and we may still contract it, even if we are vaccinated, but we will likely avoid the ICU and death.  And that's an improvement over the first year of this scourge.

President Biden just announced at-home test kits and free masks will be provided to all U.S. citizens.  That will help for those who bother to use them.  Masking is still the easiest way to help avoid this thing, but the controversy over it still rages.  The Supreme Court just ruled that OSHA cannot mandate masks in workplaces with over 100 employees because the Covid is not a workplace hazard, per se.  Really?  There's the Conservative Court at work, NOT protecting us.

I'm grateful for staying healthy, for Hub not contracting it, for my family members who did get it recovering fully with few debilitating days.  I'm grateful that every member of my family is 100% onboard with vaccinating themselves and the kids.  I would be heartbroken to have to deal with someone close to me feeling just fine about endangering themselves and others. 

I don't know when we will be 'back to normal', as if anyone really knows now what 'normal' means.  I know that having lived during this time, I take nothing for granted; I count on nothing; I am ready to change plans at a moment's notice; I steel myself for bad news; I rejoice in simple and previously taken-for-granted activities and opportunities.  

I'll continue to wage the "risk assessment" wars, sometimes deciding to sequester and sometimes deciding to venture into the public fray.  And I'll never, ever, ever again not value the life I've been given, the love I've been able to give and receive, the absolute gift of health and vitality.

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

Photo Credits:  All over the internet... 😥

To date cases of Covid 19 in U.S.: 70.1 million; Deaths: 864,000.  Worldwide cases: 346 million; Deaths: 5.59 million (and these stats are most likely way under-reported).

2022 - RUN TOWARD THE ROAR

It's raining.  Not startling news for a Pacific Northwest January.  But it's welcomed by me today as the temperatures rise above freezing and nearly foot of snow covering our neighborhood finally begins to melt away.  The snow fell on Christmas night and all day the 26th, about 7 inches, then a couple days later another 3-4 inches and the temperatures stayed in the teens and 20's for the duration -- actually the longest stretch of below freezing temps in 23 years.  Not typical.  But it was beautiful, even if I decided to stay in where it was warm (not a fan of being cold) and did not brave driving on hills.

But today I'm glad for the rain because I had to go get a Covid test, pre-colonoscopy.  Yes; I really know how to start the New Year in a sparkly manner!  Colonoscopy on Tuesday morning means I am forbidden to eat anything but a clear liquid diet starting Monday morning.  Hello chicken broth, jello, and laxative-laced Gatorade!  This. Is. Not. Fun.  But since this torture only happens every 10 years, my doc tells me this will likely be my last colonoscopy procedure unless they find something startling.  So, that's good, I guess. After 80 years old they must just figure, well, why bother?  Which I do take exception with, so we will see.  Anyway...

There was a long line for the drive-through Covid test.  I'm not surprised.  Here's some jolly New Year news:  We are in the midst of a dramatic upturn in Covid 19 cases due to the super contagious "Omicron" variant's spread.  Hub and I and our family are vaccinated, even the kids, and boosted.  We thought we'd all be fine.  But this one can also attack those who are immunized, as it did one family member after a Christmas gathering.  The vaccinated who contract it likely won't get super sick, or end up in the ICU, or die as is happening at an alarming rate among the unvaccinated.  But we could still contract the virus, test positive, and develop symptoms that do not go away -- loss of taste and smell, debilitating fatigue, brain fog -- the "long-haul Covid" we are learning about as the virus settles into infected bodies and hangs around.

So Hub and I are hunkered down again doing a semi- self-quarantine for what we hope is relatively short duration until this spike goes back down to the "new normal" of acceptable risk. (Ask me how enraged I am at those millions in the U.S. who are anti-vaxxers and continue to allow this virus to spread, even at their own peril, with new more resistant variants popping up routinely!  Grrrr.)   I am not seeing anyone in person; Hub is doing at home rapid response tests before and after his snowboarding trips with close friends.  We are taking a break from family gatherings.  I love you friends.  I love you family.  But I don't want your Covid.  Back to Zoom.

On a happier health note.  I'VE LOST 15 POUNDS!  I was going to wait to announce this until I dropped 5 more to reach my new goal weight (after 15, I adjusted downward another 5.)   I truly don't think it should have taken me so long to lose a measly 15 pounds.  Some people can do that in very short order, but maybe because I didn't have a lot to lose, relatively speaking, to be at a healthier, height-appropriate weight it came off slowly?  I don't know.  I should be a weight loss biochemistry wizard by now with all I've read, practiced, and learned.  But mostly I'm just following Noom (Google it if you are unfamiliar) and credit that program for being PERFECT for psychology-obsessed, introspection-compulsive me.  I love my Noom program, my Noom support group, my Noom group leader, but mostly the motivation I found there to get to a body weight that I have not seen in decades and which has allowed me to take the black shrouds off all my full-length mirrors.  Huzzah!  

So, the New Year has begun with lots of "new" on the horizon for me.  I'll dive into specifics as time goes on.  For now, I'm grateful to be feeling hopeful, curious, determined, and relatively at ease.  Mid-late December was a rough period when I mostly felt none of that, so January is starting out downright giddy.

I hope you too are grabbing January in a big bear hug.  We all have to embrace the joy when it comes.  God knows, challenges lie ahead.  Scary world, scary decisions, risk, and reward. But we got this.  Let's join hands, conjure up some courage, and run toward the roar!

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

BRAIN CHIP AT WORK

Last time I wrote I lamented that brain fog and low energy was keeping me from fully mentally engaging in my life.  I think it's still here.  Days of the week run together,  each day is over in a flash, months fly by at hyper-speed.  I think part of the problem is the task Hub and I have set for ourselves this summer -- tackling the long and rather overwhelming "to do" list of major, long-procrastinated household and garden projects while still trying to carve out personal time, activist time, and increasingly, social time.

Let's talk social time.  I swore that post-Covid Times I would not go back to a calendar full of socializing.  And, in fact, I have not.  But even the addition of 2 or 3 things a week is feeling like a lot.  I've had several coffee dates with friends; my weekly breakfast with my bestie has resumed (although she and I agreed last time to reign that back in to maybe every 3 weeks and resume our lengthy phone conversations in between); our large friend group is resuming our monthly potluck and topic discussion; Hub's monthly Men's group is meeting in person again -- this week at our house, so that impacted me since I stay away during their sharing time (it's confidential); we see family, of course, although not as often as in the Before Times, but we went to a 4th of July party at Son One's house and Son Two and Lovely DIL brought us dinner this week....  Anyway, I've got stuff going on now and frankly it's a bit disorienting.   But how long will this last?  It feels, also, like a brief moment in time...

Because,  it happens that the Covid 19 pandemic did not 'disappear like magic'.  Locally numbers are on the rise for hospitalizations and deaths; vaccine breakthroughs are being documented.  Nationally the numbers are even worse with the CDC director yesterday proclaiming we have a "pandemic of the unvaccinated".  Which, I admit, royally pisses me off!  "Vaccine hesitancy" is a thing we hear about daily, and I guess I have some compassion for the many folks who are nervous about needles,  have heard things  that trouble them and are not sure, or who still don't have easy access to getting the vaccine (this mostly in poor, rural areas of the country).  

But it's the "vaccine refusal" people who gall me -- the ones who still think it's all a 'hoax' (600,000 people in the U.S. have died!!!); the conspiracy theorists who believe the vaccine is full of evil that will do any number of horrific things to our bodies and society and with the vaccine something is being implanted on purpose by some nefarious governmental enemy; the ones who are politically opposed seeing vaccination for Covid as a Commie Libtard Conspiracy and the Deep State taking over their pathetic little lives.  (Looking at the maps on the nightly news, one sees the sea of Red Republican-controlled states as those with the highest Covid numbers and extremely low vaccination rates; our state, thankfully is Blue and 70% vaccinated).

The problem, of course, is not just they can do as they please and the consequence falls only on their own shoulders.  The problem is that as the virus is allowed to spread, it mutates.  It adapts.  It keeps growing and changing to invade with more contagion and doing more damage more quickly.  And when we vaccinated rub elbows (or shop at Costco) with the unvaccinated, the virus smacks up against our immunized bodies and starts to make inroads into bypassing our revved up immune systems and gets a foothold.  We might not (yet) get as sick; we might avoid the hospital, or even death, but how long until that is no longer the case?  We are all threatened just because millions of people refuse a life-saving shot in the arm.  It's nuts.

The country is fully "open" now with no restrictions on masks (mostly) or gatherings -- life back to "normal" (more on that in a different post).  The unvaccinated are still supposed to mask, but they never did so what are the chances they will follow that polite ask? Yesterday the CDC recommended even the vaccinated should go back to wearing masks indoors in public, remembering to physically distance.  L.A. county has re-instituted a masking policy for all.

I've never stopped wearing a mask indoors in public (groceries, etc).  I've been to a couple of coffee shops maskless, but I've felt weird about it.  I returned to my beloved yoga studio for one in-person class and 2/3 of the way through got a bit panic-y.  Our friend group met in person, outdoors, no hugging.  We are all back to being a wee bit cautious after a brief post-vaccine time of hopeful abandon.  (Plus, regular sickness has returned -- I know people with bad colds and puke-y "flu" and I don't want to catch those either!)

I didn't intend this to be yet another Covid post, but that's where my foggy brain went anyway.  I guess living in a pandemic, for me a life-altering experience, is still taking up some brain cells.  Or maybe the Deep State has implanted a Covid-focused chip that will forever be thinking of and reacting to this historic worldwide disaster.  We'll see.

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

Photo Credit:  Map appeared in Fortune Magazine 7.2.21

NYC-DC/A-OK

Just got home from a trip.  Those are words I haven't written in over a year!

When I occasionally announced to friends in early January that we were planning a 10-day spring trip to New York City and Washington DC, one friend expressed shock; others' silence indicated an inner judgment was percolating but unspoken.  I was unsure myself.  But we went ahead and booked it, knowing we'd be fully vaccinated by then and that a lot could happen between January and April -- either things would be looking up and all would be well, or we'd cancel the trip, which we were fully prepared to do.  We were diligent in following Covid news, talking to people we know in NYC, and monitoring our own comfort level.  (After January 6, I ended up being more concerned about domestic terrorism than the virus!)

Turns out....no cause for worry.  (Disclaimer: I am 10 days out of NYC and only 5 days home from DC, so I guess some sneaky variant could still be lurking, yet to reveal itself, but all indications are that the vaccines are handing it all effectively, so I feel confident.  Today.)  

Besides, it's not like we went to Arizona or anything, as Son Two did in mid April to attend a buddy's wedding.  He said it was a culture shock; Arizonans seemed to have missed the masking recommendation as well as the physical distancing idea.  Neither were in evidence anywhere.  In spite of being fully vaccinated, he felt so uncomfortable when his old college pals went out to a crowded bar, that he refused to go inside, sipped one beer in the beer garden, and retired early to his B&B.

Things on the East Coast couldn't have been more different.  Masking was a given -- indoors and out -- and we rarely saw anyone unmasked on the streets of New York or DC, ever. We wore our masks all day, every day...much more than at home, since we are literally at home most of the time, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.  Signs everywhere reminded people to mask, distance, and sanitize; hand sanitizing stations were in every lobby, store, restaurant, take-out window, and tourist site.  Physical distancing was easy since there were no crowds anywhere.  Sure, these are big cities so there were people about, but never at any point did I feel the crush of a crowd or the inability to keep as much distance as I wanted.  We had subway cars to ourselves in Manhattan!  We were two of four people on the tour tram at Arlington National Cemetery!

If we were the types who go to fancy (or any) restaurants, wanted to see Broadway shows, visit every museum in both cities, or went in for an exciting "nightlife", we'd have been disappointed.  Much was closed.  But we've done that on previous visits.  This time the intention was to do lots of outdoor sightseeing, walking, eating from take-out menus in parks and in our hotel suite -- back from our daily excursions by 6:00 most of the time and ready to settle in for the evening.  That was exactly what we did.  And we had a blast!  

We walked and walked, putting in 82 miles in 10 days on foot.  Occasionally we'd take a subway to a neighborhood, then walk back to our hotel from there after we finished exploring.  Or sometimes we'd do the whole trip on foot.  Both Manhattan and downtown DC are easily and safely walkable with so much to see that the walking felt almost effortless.

As being a tourist goes, it was a gift to be in these two of my favorite cities before everything opens up again.  I did, however, miss the fun of what I call "New York Fast Walking".  I love to surf my way through the crowded Midtown sidewalks dodging and weaving and moving like a flowing stream around the "boulders" of those going more slowly.  This time, there were so few people I didn't get to do that.  But a more leisurely pace was lovely too.  

It was a memorable Covid Times trip.  I'll have more on-the-ground observations in a future post, such as the strange, sad, hysterical grave marker we saw at Arlington.  

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

Photo: View from our hotel room

WHAT NOW? -- ON THE PRECIPICE OF CHANGE

What now?  

Let's establish that like many others I don't do well with change, especially chaotic, unwelcome, "didn't see that coming" change.  So the Covid Times were a wee bit disconcerting for me. I've written a lot about the early days and beyond here in this blog.  And now...well into my post-vaccine full immunity, I'm facing change again.

I'd settled into a Covid Times routine.  I had mostly made my peace with how we were -- physically distanced, isolated, masked, at home 95% of the time, Zoom-connected.  But now...

It feels like the "in-between time".  I don't know how to be with this exactly.  I don't want to forget what we just experienced individually and collectively.  It was huge.  But I'm glad the sense of doom is abating.  I'm glad we can begin to breathe a sigh of relief that science and good sense (well, some never got the good sense part) have seemed to prevail and we are truly on the road to returning to a life more recognizable, that we once so took for granted.  But we are not there yet.  And it's hard to believe all is well.  Especially for a skeptic like me.  Can I trust this to be true?  I'm working on it.

I still grab my mask for my daily walks; I'm still hesitant to hug; I still won't go to restaurants; I still keep my hands sanitized; I'm still not eager for gatherings with more than my family or maybe 2-3 vaccinated friends at a time.  I still read all the updates and listen for Drs. Fauci and Walensky to guide my decisions.

I've been thinking, too, about what I want to keep from the Covid Times.  

*I'm not eager to return to the calendar full of socializing and obligations.  I want to be radically discerning about what I do and do not commit to.  And I might have to have difficult conversations with friends to explain why I don't feel like seeing them as often, perhaps.  

*I've learned that family outreach and gatherings were primarily initiated by me -- maybe fewer is better for all concerned, but I'll have a conversation about that with the family rather than assuming one way or the other.  It's a conversation we haven't really had.  Do they want Mom to back off (as I have dramatically over the past year, with seemingly little impact) or do they rely on Mom to keep everyone connected and appreciate the effort?

*Hub and I have gone through some "stuff" and have come out with a deeper, more honest, more intimate relationship.  That has been the biggest blessing of this time: time and attention.  But he will want to return to away-from-home activities and socializing that I don't.  We will need to negotiate and accept each other's individual decisions without assuming every social and activist commitment is an "us" thing. And I don't want "busyness" and outside obligations to intrude on our tender, playful, deep sharing time together.

*And, had the hug become the new norm in your circles, replacing the handshakes of olden days?  It was in mine, pre-Covid.  So many are saying they just want to hug again.  I'm not so sure.  I've had lots of thoughts about this lately and I think it's worth another blog post.  But maybe hugging everyone I meet/see/like/love every time we are together is not a thing I want.  Maybe it's just become a thing I do to be "polite".  (Decision about this is to be determined...)

My introvert self has in many ways loved a year-long excuse to avoid social obligations, to stay home, to have a blank calendar, to meet up via Zoom for a limited time frame, to spend unhurried and undistracted time working through deep-seated, long-unrecognized "wounds" of the past that had made me be a certain way in my life. I see clearly that old me is gone, or at least walking away and fading into the distance. I feel the change: quieter, more confident, more grounded, more steady, more self-assured, better boundaries, stronger, more accepting, more joyful.

Hopefully those changes will serve me well as I take baby steps into the post-Covid-Terror future.  I don't want to go back to "normal", as in everything returning to how it was. 

I've done hard work: feeling the grief of distancing from people I love; embracing the fear of illness and death; understanding the realization that trust is hard for me and abandonment is a dreaded experience I've built my life around avoiding; knowing, really knowing that I am, we are all are, existentially alone and finding the courage to rely only upon myself -- and finding strength and peace there.

I'm different now. I need to forge a new normal for me.  I'm not getting any younger and anything at anytime can hit us out of the blue, as we've just seen.  

Living on the precipice of change is lonely and scary.  But living an honest and authentic life is more urgent than ever.

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

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

PANIVERSARY

Well, flashback time:  One year ago (March 11, 2020) we heard the startling declaration by the World Health Organization that we were officially experiencing a global Covid-19 coronavirus pandemic.  To date,  529,301 Americans have died; worldwide, 2.64 million.

I see there are many "anniversary of the date" stories being published and news shows being produced covering all we've gone through personally and collectively.  It's hard to recap in one pithy blog post.  But anyone can tell you....it's been quite a year.

One year ago in early March, when we started to get a little nervous,  we happened to buy a new car -- not shaking on the deal, but using sanitizing wipes to wipe down hands, handles, knobs, and steering wheel before driving it off the lot.  Hub left the next day with friends for a weeklong snowboarding trip.  I was home alone as the news of the virus rapidly unfolded in startling and terrifying detail.  Schools closed, sports teams suspended seasons, stay home orders were announced.  I recall being alone, afraid, confused.

And wondering....would other plans be cancelled?  With airline tickets purchased and accommodations paid for, one year ago this week both of my sons took off for a long-anticipated trip to London with several other of Son Two's good buddies for a Bachelor Trip to see favorite soccer teams play on their home pitch and have a rip-roaring good time in advance of Son Two's May wedding.  The soccer games were cancelled. Son Two came home with Covid 19.  (Thankfully a mild case.)  The May wedding ended up being scaled back from 250 guests to two, plus officiant and photographer; the family attended via Zoom.  

Son One and his wife stayed in London after the Bachelor Bash for a week on their own, a much needed and hugely anticipated "life goals" vacation, while we hosted the grandkids at our house.  We went ahead with the plan even though by then schools were closed, distancing was in place, and we had to find outdoor entertainment and outings instead of doing anything at all around other people.  We did it and I am so grateful for that week.  I will always remember it as a time of close connection with the girls and lots of fun, creative, daily loving interactions.  Son One and Beautiful DIL practically had London to themselves as everything began to shut down while they were there.  Once home, they showered and ditched their travel clothes before we returned the girls home on March 21.  Thankfully they were well and continued to be.  And that is the last we saw them in person for many weeks and then only very occasionally over the past year.

At that point things grew grim.  And all the days/months have run together.  There were lovely times, sad times, challenging times, cozy times, rageful times, joyful times, and too many times of tearful grief to recount.  Life went on with distancing, masks, caution, Zoom.  

I'm thinking about what I've taken away from this experience personally.  It will take awhile to sort out.  As I said in a previous post, I have a feeling much has changed, but not much of it visible or well-rooted yet.  

I know I am finished with a life chockfull of busyness.  I want a life of deeply satisfying relationships and some greater meaning -- a greater degree of equanimity than has been the norm for me.  All of that takes a lot of introspection and courage to manifest.  I have uncovered a deep fear of being abandoned and alone in the world along with deep issues of trust, so I see that much needs to be examined and healed for me to feel I've gained strong footing in this area.  I've finally learned we cannot place the care of our tender souls in the hands of others, no matter how well-meaning they may be.  I find I need to find inner strength and confidence to know I can make it on my own and can count on myself to a greater degree than has been my habit.  I have gotten this message and have had to learn this lesson over and over and over this year.

I know I am an introvert and, really, this year has in some ways been an introvert's dream.  I'm not anti-social, but I do love lots of "home and hearth" quiet time and that's where I'm generally most at ease.  Unlike others who are so eager to resume "normal" I am hesitant and will be discerning about what normal will look like for me going forward.

I don't mind Zoom, if it is 90 minutes or less and no more than once/day.  I don't miss commuting to places.

I've lost weight.  I eat healthy foods, planning meals and cooking more often. For several months I gave up sugar completely (it snuck back in, but with far greater intentionality about when and how much I eat it).  We found a lovely young family running a small sustainable farm and their fresh produce graced our table until they closed in November for the winter.  I do my own yoga practice twice/week and started teaching yoga myself (!) once/week. Hub and I walk 4.5 miles at the waterfront 2-3 times/week or find local parks and trails to explore on our "day dates".  I am grateful for my health and the time/effort to focus on it.  Anything can hit us out of the blue -- like a global pandemic -- but if I can have impact on my own health by my own actions, I will. 

I have had relationship and family "issues" that have caused grief and sadness, but I have come through it with deeper self-awareness and the ability to own what is mine, set boundaries where needed, and (try to) accept what I cannot change.  As Hub often reminds me, "This is not the end of the story."  Often what is happening in the moment is the way we think things will always be.  But in fact, things are always changing.  I am learning to take a step back, be the observer of what is happening inside and outside of me, and try to let everyone and everything "be".  Ongoing process.

I am incredibly grateful to have my vaccinations and the joy of hugging my grandkids again as things slowly improve.

Deniers and anti-maskers are probably crowing about how they knew it was "no big thing", but to over 500,000 Americans who died (and their families) it was a very big thing.  To those who contracted the virus but survived (some with chronic ongoing health issues) it was a very big thing.  To exhausted and emotionally devastated health care workers it was a very big thing.  To essential workers, many low-wage and people of color, who had no option to stay home to protect themselves, it was a very big thing.  To all of us who took our own safety and that of others seriously enough to distance, wash, and wear a mask for the past year, it was a very big thing.  Some of us sacrificed for the greater good.  That is always a very big and wonderful thing.

Spring is in the air.  Vaccines are getting into arms.  Schools, businesses, entertainments are re-opening by degree.  This is such good news.  It is a welcome pause in the horror movie, but we are not out of this quite yet.  The virus still rages.  But maybe, today, we can literally take a deep breath of gratitude.  And let us never forget the lessons of this long, lonely, amazingly disorienting year.  What have we learned?  How will things be different?  Take a moment to reflect and decide: Who am I now?

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

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE

First, regarding my last post.  No.  No one had an affair.  So stop wondering.

Second, I'm letting my shock, grief, and rage about the previous administration go.  He/they have used up enough of me.  I'm focusing on the current Administration...the one I worked so hard to get elected and we did!  And now we bear the fruit of our labors with all the good things that are coming to pass, most notably the passing of the American Rescue Plan yesterday that will help millions of Americans in so many ways.  The headlines say the Senate passed the plan but that's not really totally accurate:  the Democrats in the Senate passed it.  Not one Republican voted for it.  We won the Senate and now we can help people in spite of Republican obstruction and head-scratching, gob-smacking lack of compassion.  I'm sure all who voted for these R's will turn down any financial aid coming their way.  Hopefully they will sign their checks over to food banks or something.  That would be nice, huh?

As for the Covid year.  That still rages on, but I'm noticing that most of my friends now have at least one shot in their arms, many of us have both.  Again, this is thanks to the Biden Administration coming in and doing the work the previous administration ignored (like having any plan at all for increasing vaccine production and distribution).   The U.S. is currently administering 2 million doses a day.  The plan is to have vaccine ready to go for every American by mid-May.  This is phenomenal.  

Maybe this summer my whole family will be vaccinated.  

Already Hub and I have our full immunity, as does my daughter in law who works in health care, and Son Two has one dose in after becoming eligible as a childcare provider -- he supervises a childcare program (among many other programs) and pitches in with the kids at his park district supervisor job.  Now it's just Son One and Son Two's wife to go and we can all breathe (literally) in the same room together a little easier.  (The granddaughters lag behind, but they have learned well that physical distancing and mask wearing is just a part of their childhood lives.  Our 6-yr old now reminds me I'm getting too close.)  Anyway, I'm basically awed and elated at the turn-around that seemed so hopeless only a couple months ago.

Also, regarding my last post.  I said I was 70.  Nope.  Turns out I'm 45.   I know, I know.  Over the last year I've noticed my hair has turned grayer and the wrinkles and sags in my face more pronounced.  So what?  I just read an article that played on the "only as old as you feel" theme about growing older and what to do about it.  HAHA  As if there is anything to do about it but accept it, right?  Anyway, I decided I feel 45.  I liked being 45.  I was definitely a grown up.  I had learned some stuff.  Sure I was sad and overweight and stressed by trying to be the perfect mother, wife, community organizer, etc etc.  But there were some good parts too and besides I'm not trying to repeat being 45 -- in so many ways I like myself better now; I'm healthier, happier, wiser.  But the chronological number seems off.  Inside I feel about 45.  

I know 70 isn't old, exactly, unless I spend a wee bit too much time gaming life expectancy, and then there is a bit of a shock.  But as my 11 year old granddaughter posited recently, "Grandma, do you think you'll set the record for living the longest?"  "Well, I don't know honey, what's the record?"  "I think it's like 130 or something...I think you can do it Grandma, cuz you do yoga and eat super healthy food."  "Hmm...well, yes, then I think I'll shoot for that!"  LOL  So sweet, but hey why not?  We are only as old as we feel.  And when I'm 130, I'll probably feel about 70 and that will feel damn good!

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

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

RESTING

The Muse is on vacation. I have no energy for....much.  I'm intimately familiar with burn-out.  Hello.  I see you.  I feel you.  

Here's the thing.  The Truth.  ALL of my energy is going into recovery, resilience, re-defining, re-making, re-ordering my life.  I turned 70 in December.  Some shift is happening..."something's happening here; but what it is ain't exactly clear..." (Those my age will recognize this song lyric.)

I recall in my 50's and early 60's I had the motto: "There is no time left to waste", so I went on a "public-ing" binge of no longer hiding and postponing the things I wanted to do that I'd long put off or talked myself out of, thinking I was not capable enough to pull any of it off.  

I wrote and did "performance poetry" publicly at Open Mics.  I contributed to a chapbook of original poems with a group of women poets. I organized and facilitated a monthly Ecstatic Dance (meditative movement) experience attended by about 20 people.  I organized and facilitated a support and sharing group for women over 60 (WISE: Women Investigating, Supporting and Experiencing) as we moved into an age where many women become invisible.  I wanted us to be examples, not of the stereotypical "elderly" but of the vital and energetic version of what it means to grow older with so much to contribute: smashing cultural stereotypes.  I was in leadership at my Unitarian Universalist church, as a regular Worship Associate, on committees, MC'ing special events.  I attended women's personal growth experiential weekends and the follow up growth groups that changed my life.  I started taking yoga classes.  I learned to meditate.  I struggled through getting boys through high school and college and a mother through independent living, assisted living, and home care as her dementia progressed until her death.  I also worked full time.  And did all the other life stuff people do.  It was a time of tremendous energy output and tremendous reward.

I think of all of that fondly and know I do not want to repeat the frantic pace of those years.  But lately I wonder what my life is about.  I feel directionless and rudderless.  Plus, shit's been hard.

My political assumptions about our country and my naive innocence about people doing what's right took a huge hit with the defeat of Hillary Clinton and the victory of a Republican president and party that resembles nothing like Democracy.  For over 4 years I felt abused and betrayed.  The heart sickness, the mental shocks, the physical responses to all of it, as well as the non-stop calls to action and activism took a toll.  By the time he was defeated, although he is still claiming he won, I was just relieved and burned out.  These days I've become one of those I have always denigrated -- vaguely aware of what's happening, but not engaged; not devouring news 24/7, not taking any meaningful actions, not interested in engaging in long diatribes or discussions of policy or politics.  I almost have an aversion -- I just watch Rachel Maddow and occasionally skim my news feed without the ability to read more than a paragraph or so before I feel agitated enough to click out of the story.  I cannot tolerate the intolerable anymore.  I think I'll get my mojo back, eventually, because if anything inspires me to care it's voting rights issues, so that may be where I'm headed, but not now, not today.

While delicate to write about and without any desire to reveal intimate details, for the past two years Hub and I have struggled with some marital issues that have consumed me...and us.  It has been a time of tremendous pain for me.  We recognized the need to attend to long-standing patterns of being in relationship together.  We've made a commitment to deeper understanding and acceptance of the ways in which we are very different.  One would think all of this would have been worked out years ago.  But ages and stages of development, and how people just naturally change over time, bring different challenges and this age and stage feels like a transition born of crisis into a new and healthier way of being together.  At times we feel like honeymooners, having gotten past the initial "thing", but underlying that there is still much work to do.  (It's never just one thing and often it's not even the "thing" but the "why" behind it.)  Why one person decides to do something and how the other reacts to that doing requires examination.  To our credit, we are (no hyperbole, it's true) excellent at talking things through.  We have huge individual and collective toolboxes of personal growth and communication tools and know how to use them.  We have spent hours and hours and hours sitting in our living room chairs telling honest truths to each other, revealing our deepest thoughts and feelings, fighting, crying, giving up, starting again, and holding the hope that this will all make us stronger.  Lately I think it will.  I am so grateful for our shared perseverance and willingness to be vulnerable as a means to an end we both want.  I have found my voice and my strength of conviction, setting boundaries, and honoring my values.  He has looked inside and found areas he wants to work on as well.  We both think the future holds great promise and we are excited about sharing it together.  But Jesus, it's been so hard, so draining, so sad... and so important.  

And then a year ago along came the Covid-19. Besides the fear of catching the thing, came the difficult realization that I felt so alone with my adult children seemingly unable or unwilling to be as attentive as I'd hoped.  They rarely reached out to check in, rarely answered my own reaching out to them with much more than a few words in response.  I felt I'd completely lost one of my DIL's as her work in health care consumed her.  I know they love me, but still, I had to learn hard, hard lessons about letting go.  They were consumed by their own lives, busy, and stressful. I grieved mightily that my dream of a close connection to my family was not to be.  At least not the way I had defined it.  So, I worked and worked and worked on finding out more about why connection was so important to me. And I figured it out and went on to working on how to heal that wound within myself.  (Fodder for another post.)  

So, all of this has left me in a state of numb exhaustion for several weeks.  I've neglected friends, have been unable to write or read much, or even laugh enough.  I've been reclusive with no social energy to expend.  I truly feel like I'm recovering from an intensely emotionally demanding and draining few years of concurrent challenges that converged to overcome my sense of safety -- which is a HUGE challenge for me.  Feeling safe and connected are my core needs and these have been thwarted.  I have to come up with a new definition of safety and connection and to find those things within myself, not relying on others to supply me this life-saving emotional oxygen.  

So, yeah, it's hard and from it all I have grown so much, learned so much, feel hopeful and determined.  But I need to retire to my sofa, with my mandala coloring books and watercolor pens, my crocheting, and my TV for a while longer.  I need quiet walks, daily meditation, and regular yoga practice.  I need a few close friends, occasional family gatherings (thank you Covid vaccinations!), and more time to figure out what's next for me, because I do not know.  But I do know I'll be a different me when I emerge.

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

HELLO 2021

Happy New Year!  Late.  My intention this year is to make my blog posts shorter, lighter, less ponderous.  Yet, we live in a ponderous world, so we'll see.

What I notice, looking back, is that the November Presidential Election felt like I'd been running a 4+ year emotional marathon at full speed through shit.  Getting to the finish line to discover we'd won felt more like relief than celebration.  I basically fell over the line and collapsed in a coma.  

But wait!  The Georgia Senate races were too close to call, so they decided to do a run-off election in early January, which if they both won, would give the Democrats control of the Senate, allowing the Biden/Harris agenda a snowball's chance of success.  "Snap out of it!"  "I know you thought you won, and you sort of did, but now pick yourself up and keep going -- there's a new finish line!"  So, there was that.  And we won again.  But at that point the exhaustion and distraction were so great it was hard to stay upright.

Let me explain distraction:  The former (yay!) President refused to accept the results of the November election.  He shouted from his Twitter account, his podium, his rallies; he sent his flunky apologists on speaking tours of the cable talk shows, and of course his own right-wing authoritarian-state media outlets amplified what has been tagged "The Big Lie" for him 24/7.  He filed lawsuit after lawsuit, demanded recounts in various swing states, losing every time.  The result was this being declared the most free and fair election ever.  Nevertheless he persisted in declaring his own victory, "by a landslide", and that the election was stolen from him.  

We always knew he was mentally disturbed, but he was supported in this fantasy by his GOP sycophants in Congress as well as other "regular folks" supporters, also including a large contingent of Neo-Nazis, white supremacists, QAnon conspiracy theorists, and just radicalized loners. They began to take up his cause as well, culminating in him calling them all to Washington DC on January 6 for a "Rally to Stop the Count" -- meaning the very day that Congress was to meet to certify the Electoral College votes, DC was inundated with thousands of his supporters, armed and angry, who gathered to hear him speak of "taking back their government" and "let's march to the Capitol" where Congress was gathered to verify the election, presided over by his own Vice President, as required by the Constitution, not necessarily cuz he wanted to be there. 

March they did.  And when they arrived they pushed through police barricades, broke windows and doors, rushed into the building, menaced and beat police officers, stormed the offices of Congresspeople and Senators, threatened to shoot Speaker Nancy Pelosi and hang VP Mike Pence (for his role in doing his job, I guess).  The Capitol police were overrun and calls for help from the National Guard went unanswered for hours.  After the hours-long standoff was finally halted, the Congress came out of their secured locations and went back to work to verify the election outcome, but 147 Republican lawmakers voted against the certifying the election -- in effect refusing to accept the democratically elected new president/vice president as valid.  Oh, and five people died.  And this is Amerika.

Since then the FBI has been rounding up the perpetrators as best they can, aided by the brazenness of their predilection for posting the whole debacle on social media with a burst of pride and narcissism.    The former president has limped off to Florida where he threatens to start a third political party and continues to hold sway over the GOP for some reason.  

Oh, and he was impeached AGAIN by the House for inciting insurrection.  The Articles of Impeachment have been delivered to the Senate where they will begin the trial on February 8.  But they've already taken a vote on the constitutionality of trying an ex-president with the majority of Republicans voting that it is unconstitutional -- even though they previously refused to hear the case while he was still in office, when presumably they thought it would be constitutional.  It gets confusing to keep up with the crazy.  Too bad. We won. The trial will go on.

The day of the Inauguration was a bright spot, perfectly executed live and online - a celebration of diversity, unity, and optimism.  There was no violence, which had been threatened not only in DC but in State Capitols nationwide,  which was remarkable. Perhaps evildoers were deterred by the 40,000 National Guard troops brought in and that a Green Zone of inner Washington was sealed off with barricades and barbed wire.  This is Amerika.

The Biden/Harris administration is peopled by experienced, competent professionals.  They are following rules and norms and working with a transparency we had forgotten could exist, such that it all feels like a miracle instead of just how things should be.  There is hope there.

But alas, we also still have a pandemic to fret over.  Current US numbers:  26,663,298 cases; 450,478 deaths.  

It is criminal how badly mismanaged this crisis has been in the United States under the former administration.  They are directly responsible for so much suffering and death with their ignorance and lack of leadership in urging Americans to take necessary precautions.  The "anti-maskers" still refuse even the most basic of precautions, led in their disregard by the ex-president and others in his circle of fools.

Two vaccines have been released and folks are getting vaccinated now when they can.  The former administration, as a parting shot in this arena, announced that anyone over 65 could get the shot and that they would release their stockpile of vaccine to accomplish this Herculean task.  Turns out...surprise!...there was no stockpile!  

The Biden administration is working to increase production of the vaccine and get it out to communities as fast as possible, but the roll-out has been nothing but frustration for many: impossible to get an appointment in spite of making it a full time job to be online, refreshing and refreshing the websites to maybe be able to make an appointment at a vaccination site before they fill up (often within minutes!).  It seems one must just get very lucky to get a vaccination appointment, which Hub and I were.  But I could barely acknowledge the momentous occasion....  

Everything is just...too much.   So, most of this month I've spent going inward, withdrawing, reading, thinking, and watching Dickenson on Apple+TV, which I have found quirky and delightful...just what I needed.  Solitude and self-care.

Turns out this post is not shorter, lighter, nor less ponderous.  Let's shoot for next time?

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

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...©

STILL DOING HARD THINGS

Some days it all feels like too much.  I try, we all try, to carry on with life "as normal" but what is normal? Many days I forget what normal even used to be.  

I know I am blessed and privileged and have very little to complain about in my physical world.  Lovely, warm home, great husband, family nearby, friends, enough food and money to not have to worry.  Creature comforts and loving support? Check.

Still, this morning I feel like the world out there is caving in and my safety is only an illusion.   Plus, I'm emotionally spent.  Saying that, there is also a voice in my head assuring me I'll be fine; I'll get through this rough patch and find hope and joy and connection again, but right now I also hear the voice full of woe and warning and feel my body responding with the familiar vertigo of anxiety.

Over on the yoga blog that I write I advised recently to 'be with what is'; that all things change, all circumstances pass.  Today I'm struggling to take my own advice.

The current president still has not conceded the election and is continuing his chaotic quest to challenge the results with legal action, lies, gaslighting, and inciting his followers (and his GOP cronies) to rise up in opposition to what is so obviously the truth:  he lost.   He refuses to allow President-Elect Biden any access to government agencies or information crucial to a peaceful and smooth transfer of power.  No amount of pleading and pressure will budge him.  

Consequently we are vulnerable on many fronts, including national security, but most immediately around the Covid-19 pandemic which is absolutely raging through the U.S. with astronomical numbers of new cases, and deaths, daily.  Biden has a plan for instituting a national response, but needs access to government agencies and information to get a leg up before he takes office.  He is being thwarted. 

We do not have, nor have we ever had, a coordinated national response to the pandemic.  It has been all lies, denials, and conspiracy theories, with a great swath of Americans thumbing their noses at science and refusing to take even the most basic precautions to protect themselves and others.  It's unconscionable. 

I am dismayed I have to live through this era of political upheaval where our American norms, values, and laws are being upended and ignored, where vitriol and violence (real and threatened) are the order of the day. I am dismayed I have to live through this era of pandemic suffering, ignorance, and blatant disregard for each other.  I am beyond dismayed that my grandkids will inherit this mess in some incarnation.  Our country won't be the same -- this is a time of historic change.  My prayer is that this darkness will be followed by light.  The jury is still out.

I try to turn to gratitude.  I am healthy.  So is my family and are my friends.  A vaccine is on the horizon, even if distribution will take many months to reach everyone; some say a year.  Biden/Harris will move into leadership on January 20 barring some catastrophic turn of events.  I'm grateful to live in a part of the country, in a state, where the governor is taking bold measures to try to protect us by establishing limits on social gatherings and mandating masks in public.  States which took early and consistent actions are not as impacted now as those who did not (and still do not).  

But as I watch the rain hit my window this morning, I look out upon a gray, wet, chilly world that seems to hold little promise for immediate respite.  My thoughts are with those who are ill, alone, dying; with their families in worry and grief; with health care workers and caregivers who are exhausted and nearly unable to go on; with all of us as we look ahead to a lonely Thanksgiving sequestered from the warmth and good cheer of family and friend gatherings just when we need it most. 

Had there been a bold and coordinated response from our government at the beginning, so much of this could have been avoided.  It did not have to be this way.  For that I am incredibly sad...and enraged.  Yet, this is what we have, where we are.  Be with what is.

I still have my little poster hanging up on a kitchen cabinet that says "We Can Do Hard Things".  It's been there since all of this started last winter.  We are still in it.  We are still doing hard things.

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

Updated statistics on Covid 19:  

In my county -- Cases since January: 11,934; Deaths: 258; rate per 100,000 people of newly diagnosed cases in past two weeks: 211.9 (the goal is to get this under 25!)

U.S. -- Cases since January: 11,903,133 million; Deaths: 256,658; over past 7 days, average of 162,816 new cases/day.

Photo Credit: raindrops.  Pixabay.com

WE HAD A SCARY PARTY

Of course, within days of our Family Halloween Party the newest Covid numbers in the County were released and they are not good.  In fact, they are the worst since last March when all of this was taking us by storm.  The rising numbers are for all age groups and mostly due to "roommate, friend and/or family indoor gatherings" where mask wearing is sporadic if at all. 

So, this morning, when I felt chilled (likely because it's chilly in the house with fall temps and damp fog permeating our living space), I assumed I had "The Covid".  I assumed this with the irrational fear, and absolute conviction, that comes with being an anxiety sufferer even when we do not have a deadly pandemic hiding in plain sight. (BOO!)  I did try to talk myself down, Hub reminded me I was using worry to project myself into a future that I didn't want (ICU, ventilator, etc, etc.),  and I meditated.  All were helpful to a degree.  And still....did we make a mistake with the party?

We spent weeks figuring out how to gather safely indoors now that outdoor gatherings would be slightly miserable (cold and wet).  We decided to clean and clear our garage, hang fabric shower curtain liners over the open shelving, string party lights, set up tables and chairs at least 8 feet apart for each family unit.  We had hand sanitizer and sanitizing wipes at the ready.  We told everyone that costumes were optional but masks were mandatory.

Hub should have a degree in indoor ventilation by now with his research into, and buying of, HEPA Air Purifiers -- six of them! -- set strategically in the garage and the adjacent Game Room (pool table, darts, foosball).  He opened doors and windows and put box fans in windows opposite to draw air through the rooms, creating adequate flow to eliminate "dead air" spaces.  He tested this by carrying a lit candle around watching which way the flame bent.  

When we all gathered (Son One and his family, Son Two and his wife) we went outside to the yard to do a Candy Hunt.  Having lost Easter to Covid lockdown, I decided to create the traditional Easter Egg Hunt, but with Halloween candies inside the plastic eggs.  The grand-girls loved it.  Then we came in to the snacks I had spent all day creating.  Big hit.  Our 11 y/o granddaughter brought a dip and some cookies too -- she's turned into quite the cook/baker!  Then we carved pumpkins together, displaying the finished masterpieces.  A light supper of homemade (all from scratch, of which I am inordinately proud, since I don't normally cook) pumpkin soup, chili, cornbread, and pumpkin cake for dessert came last.  A few of us played a game of pool, some sat and visited together.  Then it was over.  Days and days of planning, two full days of work to cook, set up, and orchestrate and it was over in about 3-1/2 hours.  We were exhausted.  But we think we created a safe and memorable experience.

Still, is that what every family thinks, even those who end up with Covid in their midst?  We did remove masks to eat, to sip beverages, but masks were on at all other times...except our little 5 y/o who has such a hard time keeping her mask on and her distance from us, but I noticed she's much better with the mask if she does come close.  We did stay at least (usually more than) six feet apart.  Even with all our ventilation, was this too big a risk?  I think of all those going to restaurants, maskless, surrounded by strangers, eating and drinking, and who knows which way the indoor air is blowing, if at all?   Our party had to be safer than that, right?

I will be so grateful for the day when seeing my family doesn't include the "countdown to symptoms" anxiety that I felt this morning.  This is Day 5 post-party.  So far so good....

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

FOG

I am not sure where I've been...

Well, I've been exactly nowhere since I'm still 90% staying home because turns out there is still a Covid-19 pandemic raging and the numbers are going up locally, but today I feel I've emerged from a bit of a foggy inertia that has kept me from writing here. 

Catching up:

I did a 4-part series in September on my yoga blog about the Enneagram (personality typing) and I think I'll repeat it on this blog sometime.  It's where my brain has been -- studying the Enneagram to explore my inner landscape, my motivations, habits, responses to life events.  It's fascinating and helpful and has given me valuable insight into old ways of being that no longer serve me.  All of this has come up as I continued to marvel at the various ways my friends and family are responding to the pandemic.  But beyond that I have found growth points to work toward that have nothing to do with the Covid crisis and everything to do with finding a healthier way to express my basic personality type in relationship with others.  

This all sounds rather vague here, I know.  Suffice to say, I've been lost in my books, notes, podcasts, and practices.  I love it and it's been incredibly psychologically and emotionally draining -- doing inner personal growth work is necessarily about relationships (with oneself and with others) and that makes it complex, difficult, and ultimately rewarding.  And also, yes, exhausting.  

Also in September we were visited by ten days of unhealthy air due to the smoke descending from wildfires raging in California, Oregon, and Washington.  We kept doors and windows shut tight and looked out into the yellow-gray haze of what should have been sunny, warm late summer days.  It was depressing and scary -- portents of a climate crisis future.

Once the smoke lifted, I went out to my garden.  I decided to stop waiting for help with the "heavy gardening" and just try to tackle it myself.  I spent hours digging out ten huge clumps of bearded irises that were taking over various locations and crowding other plantings out.  Each clump took me between 5 and 20 minutes to unearth, kicking the shovel under the root ball over and over, incrementally levering the root ball up from the earth, then hauling garden cart after garden cart away to the dump pile.  I did the same with four peonies that I transplanted.  I cut back the yellow leaves of my five big hostas, pruned other things back, transplanted a few perennials, mulched some transplants....I sound like a real gardener here.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  I Google everything and hope for the best.  

I feel pretty proud of my work though, and have a sense of satisfaction about taking the initiative and successfully completing hard physical work tasks that normally I might have stewed about and grown frustrated waiting for "manly muscle" help.  (See personal growth work above.)  I'm basically a genteel gardener, but I did it!  Woman!  Roar!  

We've had 4-5 days of rain lately, so I figure all of that garden work and transplanting is getting a nice soaking now and that has to be good, right?  I still have to weed and cut back last year's canes in the two 40 foot rows of raspberry patch, cover the raised beds with some compost and mulch, and generally finish the whole "put the garden (and garden furniture) to bed" chores of Autumn.  I always find it a bit depressing; winter is not my favorite season in this northland where the darkness and rain feels oppressive already.

And then there is politics.  I'm hanging on by my fingernails.  I find my ability to keep attending to the daily outrages waning.  I can hardly stand to read/watch about the latest debacle of decency and assaults on democracy.  I feel if I start writing about it here, I won't be able to stop -- and I'll likely forget something because every day is chock-a-block full of awful: Covid raging (and fights over mandated attempts to slow it); the current White House occupant behaving like a petulant child at the presidential debate; the Covid epidemic hitting the Administration (33 tested positive -- some refusing to have the test; the president and first lady testing positive, then declaring they are "cured" and that the virus is not a big deal, so don't worry about it. Tell that to the 210,000 families of Americans who have died.); a far right wing conservative nominated to fill Ruth Bader Ginsburg's seat on the Supreme Court and the GOP rushing the hearings to get her seated prior to the election; voter suppression tactics in full force; a president who is undermining the validity of the election and refusing to leave office unless he feels the election has been "fair" (with him being the decider on that).  Then there is the ongoing lying, gaslighting, ridiculing...

So, my response has been to stop checking my phone for the latest news. (I literally leave it upstairs in my bedside table only checking for updates a couple times a day.)  I have signed up with organizations working to write postcards to GOTV (Get Out The Vote) with Postcards to Voters, Reclaim Our Vote, and Moms Rising (over 200 written to date.)  I have also completed 100 letters for Vote Forward.  I took a text-banking training and know I should get busy on that too.....and I'm tired.  If I were a marathon runner I would not be one who gets a second wind....I'd be the one crawling, panting and bloodied, across the finish line.  At least the polls are looking good for our side...and then 2016 flashbacks pop into my head and I'm back wondering what more I can do.  I can't do nothing.

There is a word I've discovered for this fog of overwhelm: acedia.  Physical and emotional isolation (covid), along with a steady barrage of bad news (politics, social unrest, climate crises), creates feelings of listlessness and anxiety, which is a legitimate response to the current predicament.  Some may think this is depression, but it feels different.  It feels to me claustrophobic -- not hopeless in the same way as depression; more like impatient and agitating, with no way out.  The point is, this is a valid feeling to have and it has brought me lately to a place of inertia: "bored, listless, afraid, and uncertain". *

I hope the urge to write today means I am returning to the land of the living -- emerging from the fog with clear-sighted resilience.  No matter what happens on any of these fronts, the task is to keep moving forward, questing for a fully lived life of self-awareness, connection, growth, and commitment.  

Also, I may take a nap.

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

Photo Credit:  pixabay.com

*Resource: "Acedia: the lost name for the emotion we are all feeling right now", by Jonathan Zecher, writing for 'The Connection', August 2020

OLD IS NOT BAD, JUST DIFFERENT, AND OCCASIONALLY ANNOYING AND/OR TERRIFYING AND/OR JOYFUL

 

In the past six Covid months, I have aged.  

My physical appearance has changed noticeably.  There is no denying the grayer hair, the deeper creases and wrinkles, the saggier jowls, the crepe-y skin on the inside of my arms, my thighs, the backs of my hands.  No amount of moisturizer seems to take the years away.  Of course, this was happening anyway, and maybe I didn't notice.  I also still blame that cataract surgery last fall -- non-soft-focus eyesight can be startling in front of the mirror.

I still, occasionally, put on a little mascara and blush.  I do not wear any jewelry except my wedding band and the cheap little turquoise ring I bought at a sidewalk gift shop at the Boulder Dam in 1974 and have worn every day since, its original Native etchings worn smooth over the decades.  I put earrings on one day and felt like a floozy.  Too much.  I took them out.  I do wear my Fitbit, but those have never been confused with jewelry -- they are devices, which is different.

If I leave the house I put on a sports bra.  Otherwise...the girls go free.  I wear black leggings every day with one of a dozen cotton T-shirts with some political or yoga message on the front, or maybe a hoodie on cool days.  My Oofos flip-flops are a constant, unless I don my Addis's for a walk.   I wear ball caps on bad hair days -- or a pony tail, or pig tails.  My hair has gotten very long.  I cut my own bangs; maybe you can tell.

All of my houseplants are thriving because I'm good at houseplants normally, but now they are getting extra TLC.  I replanted all my African violets, which they never like.  Like me, they are homebodies, even if their homes are way too crowded for them.  There were traumatized by the move; I can relate.  But this morning all are strong and healthy and 4 of the 6 are flowering.  Aren't African Violets the epitome of an older woman's houseplants?  I should also have a cat.  I would if Hub didn't object; I think there are meds for that allergy issue, but being a considerate wife I'm sticking to my vow of no more cats after over 30 years of making him endure sharing our home with a bunch of them over time.

Technology stymies me at times.  Easy stuff becomes nightmarish.  The other night Hub and I watched a Tom Hanks movie on Apple + .  I still have no idea why that channel shows up on my TV from a little box Son Two installed; I just know it does, and we watch.  We got a year free of Apple + when we bought our iPhones last year so maybe that's it?  Dunno.  I do know it has added a 4th remote to the three it already takes to watch TV -- one for the TV, one for DISH, one for the receiver.  Now one for the Apple box. Last night we wanted to watch something on Showtime and my brain went blank as to how to access Showtime On Demand.  We spent a good 20 minutes trying various screens, scrolling and backing out of this and that screen.  Then I realized one of the remotes was not even working, so I changed the batteries.  Still nothing, and I said we'd have to give up and do something drastic, like read a book or something, but Hub grabbed the remote and discovered I'd installed the batteries upside down, which I frequently do even when I try super hard to get it right, like I did last night.  

Anyway, back to Tom Hanks... the movie wasn't that good.  ("Greyhound" -- new release straight to streaming because there are so few theaters to show movies these days.)  It was a WWII Navy battle movie, reminding me of all the WWII movies I watched as a kid.  This one had echoes of "The Enemy Below" -- a classic fave.  It was intense at times.  The story of those Nazi subs and their torpedoes cutting through the waves aimed at our hero's destroyer and all those fresh-faced sailors was nail-biting!  But not scary enough for my resting HR, usually in the 70-80 BPM range, to shoot up to 160 per my Fitbit.  

I kept an eye on my heart rate as I got ready for bed and it stayed high.  I started to take deep calming breaths.  I started to feel palpitations.  I started to feel a twinge of pain, perhaps in the left chest.  I did what any normal person would do in this situation, I googled "racing heartbeat" and "heart beat: how high is dangerous?".  I checked the monitor about every 10 seconds.  When Hub came to bed I casually mentioned I seemed to be having a wee bit of tachycardia.  He put on his placid doctor face, sat on the bed next to me and took my wrist in his tender, professional hands to check my pulse. 76 BPM.  I questioned his pulse-checking skill since he IS retired and my Fitbit said at that moment 151.  He defended his 35 year career in medical practice with the suggestion that it might be a Fitbit problem.  We had a good laugh at yet another episode of me foiling the Grim Reaper and I went to sleep reassured.  This is not the first time I've been at death's door; health anxiety sucks.

So the next day, with Fitbit HR still soaring even though I was sitting in a chair, I spent about 2 hours over three contacts throughout the day, on the Fitbit Help Chat following their instructions, performing all manner of reboots, clearing of data, uninstalling and reinstalling the software and finally they agreed it was malfunctioning and they are sending me a new Fitbit.  Upside, that falsely racing heartbeat also tricked Fitbit into thinking I was exercising and it gave me about 3 hours of "active minutes" for the day.  Nice.  I can claim that on my Silver Sneakers app and get points toward Amazon Gift Cards!  (Shhh...don't tell.)

I think I've become a stereotype, but maybe I've just come to the realization that we all grow older as life progresses and we forget to pay attention.  I look around my home, which I love, and see how it might look to a younger person.  They would not want the beautiful china hutch filled with my grandmothers' pretty dishes.  They have no memory of the hand-painted cookie jar full of hard candies at Grandma's house in Indiana, nor the sweet green figurine I won at the 5th grade Mother-Daughter Tea at my elementary school.  They might not want the 25 year old multi-colored chair in the room off the kitchen that I still love, even if a bit worn, because I can see the frayed fabric made so by numerous kitty claws, reminding me of hours of sitting there with a purring cat on my lap.  They might not know the fancy carved old table in the guest room was made by a distant relative or that the blue and white quilt was made by a cousin of some sort while recovering from injuries sustained in the Spanish-American War.  In fact, they might know and just not care.  Kids these days don't prize that old stuff.  

And, today, I'm feeling like Old Stuff too.  It both saddens and amuses me.  In many ways, just a few months shy of turning 70, this is one of the best times of my life.  I am free to create my days as I please. I am pretty healthy (when I'm not fretting about NOT being healthy).  My marriage is good, my kids are close by, my granddaughters are adorable.  I  have friends, even if physically distanced right now. And I have a new appreciation for the precious precariousness of life.  

Also laughter.  I have that.  Life's elixer.

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

ABOUT HAPPINESS

I have a friend who told me he recently came to this blog and enjoyed reading, but said he was worried about me because I worry so much.  I asked him to elaborate, but he demurred.  So, I'm unsure what caused him to think I'm such a worrywart.  Perhaps it was a couple posts ago when I talked about being a wee bit depressed about this state of things:  But, it's not as if there isn't a life-threatening pandemic, democracy hanging by a thread, social unrest, and far, far too few instances of being able to see my grandkids.  I think I try to put lipstick on the pig most of the time, but hey, some days are just a little ugly.   

So, this post will be about the happiness this pandemic brings to my life!  

First, it's summer.  We've pandemic-ed through mid-late winter, all of spring, and now most of summer, with no end in sight.  But hey!  It's warm and sunny and 75 degrees and I am right now sitting under a tree in my garden hearing kids across the street playing and laughing, chickadees and hummingbirds chirping as they flit to the feeder and the birdbath, noticing my geraniums are still blooming bright red, the bubbler fountain singing a soothing song of cool waters.  It's a bit muggy, but the slight breeze is enough to cool my brow and I'm sipping my ubiquitous Lime LaCroix. (I'm addicted, but better this than my old friend Chardonnay -- this summer makes 9 years alcohol-free, which is another thing to be happy about!)  These summer days are already showing signs of packing their bags and heading to the dark zone -- sunrise is later, sunset earlier.  A few maples are going golden.  The garden harvest is 90% finished.  Nevertheless, I am savoring every single minute of these outdoor days, especially since outdoors is a relatively Covid-safe place to be.

Second, Hub and I are still sort of honeymooning our way through the year, approaching our first anniversary (after 48 years of marriage) of last September when we faced and worked hard to address the earthquake that rumbled through our marriage in 2019.   What a surprising gift to find us closer after all this time.  Marriage is hard and easy, sweet and sour, and totally unpredictable.  It's also demanding.  You can't ignore and push anger, resentment, disappointment, and weariness away and expect to be doing much better than going through the motions at times, even when you have a gift for and a desire to learn and grow together.  Even with that considerable boxful of personal growth tools, there are still challenges because marriage is still between two separate people with two separate ways of perceiving and coping.  But we've rediscovered our easy comaraderie, risked a no-holds-barred truly honest way of talking things out, created a flow of moving through our days together, pursuing our own interests while making ample time to be together, that is agreeable and loving.  Also, lots of sex. (Masks optional. HAHA)

Third, the internet.  I know, we demonize the online life.  It can be addicting to some, with its siren call of continuous stimulation and non-stop scrolling through social media for the next silly meme, outraged headline, cute cat pic, recipes, classes, and ads, ads, ads.  Still, I love signing on and posting about my life and absolutely love when my friends do the same.  I've deepened friendships with some during this physical distancing time and have kept in touch with others, hearing their pandemic-life tales from far away.  And then there's Zoom, which has been both a challenge and a joy, but either way I am grateful to see the faces of those I care about. 

Also, the internet has brought a few lovely antidotes to the sadness, loneliness, and claustrophobic fears we have all faced at times.  I am in a few FB groups, all formed in response to the Covid world, whose sole purpose is to cheer:  

"Garden Therapy" is a local group (gone beyond local as friends of friends have joined from afar) of mostly pictures of our gardens, with queries for advice and sharing of info.  People creating beauty from nature in their own backyards.  

"A World of Hearts" is an international group where people started decorating their doors and windows with "heart art" from kids' homemade cutouts to fancy decals to stained glass masterpieces.  Lately there are photos of "found hearts" -- rocks in heart shape, tree bark revealing hearts, stream waters creating eddying hearts.  It's a lovely sentiment....to send this heart love around the world.

Speaking of world, there is another group called "The View From My Window" where locked down people everywhere -- literally all over the world -- have posted what they can see from their windows, yards, porches, neighborhoods.  Some views are spectacular and some are of small patches of grass surrounded by chainlink fencing.  People comment with where they are viewing from and the world becomes smaller as those stuck at home find companionship across the globe. 

"Spreading Kindness" is a group which shares inspiration mostly in the form of uplifting memes.  I used one to illustrate this post.

On the micro-local level, I started a periodic "Neighbor Check-In" email outreach to those who live on my block.  Many of us are basically introverts. We don't often talk in person, each keeping to our own lives, homes, gardens -- but in the early days of the lock down, it was weird to never even see anyone outside: no walks, no deliveries, no cars coming/going.  I realized that even if we didn't socialize much, we knew the rhythms of each others lives in that silent way that neighbors do.  So I decided to do a "check in" and the emails were returned with delightful, revealing, heartfelt sharing about our experiences with life and the Covid shock, all appreciating the connection. 

Fourth, "random acts of kindness" bring me joy.  A friend of mine organized a pizza delivery to the local hospital for the frontline workers when things were particularly stressful in April.  She solicited donations from friends and family and managed to get $400 worth of pizza delivered, with late donations combined in a gift to the local food bank.

Inspired by her, I started a "Letters of Love" Campaign among my FB friends to send letters or postcards  of appreciation to local hospitals, clinics, and long-term care homes.  I collected all the addresses and announced the recipients to write to each week. We sent these, two or three letters every week , for two months, reaching out to four local hospitals, six local clinics, and ten long-term care facilities.  Amazingly I got three letters of thanks back and word from one clinic worker I know well who told me our outreach was highlighted in their multi-site, clinic-wide newsletter.  

I continue alone to do occasional appreciations to "essential workers".  I've left goodies and cool drinks for the letter carrier and garbage/recycling pick-up guy.  I've sent letters to my local groceries stores and words of encouragement to people I know who work in "essential" jobs that didn't allow them time off.  Note to self: Do more of this.  It's so easy to show ongoing appreciation.

So, see?  It's not all tears and disaster planning.  Life is a precious thing.  If nothing else, this pandemic time has softened me, made me appreciate small kindnesses.  My heart has opened to the simple things, to the love, friendship, and connections that will find a way, even when the usual way is barred.

Do I still worry?  Well, sometimes.  But no one need worry about my worry.  It has its place, but it doesn't consume the whole of me.

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