Bell Bottom Blues. It's being played loudly from the front room while my roommate plays guitar along with it. I'm really not sure what it is about the song that hits me deeply every time I hear it. It is, without a doubt, my favorite Derek and the Dominos song - and thereby, my favorite Eric Clapton song. I'd heard other songs throughout my early childhood, but this song stuck with me.
Maybe every time I heard it in my teen years, it sort of harkened back to the time in my life when I was first exposed to it - a childhood with tumultuous twists and turns at the hands of an abusive narcissist. It's difficult to say for sure. Regardless of exactly why – it didn't remotely remind me of that abuse, it was more about the intensity and depth of the emotions I felt as a child in that situation. I knew that love shouldn't hurt and that abuse took many forms. The saddest part is that even knowing those things all the way to my core at such a young age, I wasn't experienced at life enough to prevent the negative and skewed view of myself that I am only just learning to unravel 40 years later.
At some point in my junior year of high school, surrounded by hair metal bands galore, I managed to somehow reconnect with my love of blues music. I'd grown up in a household that, aside from the abuse, was filled with music. The fact that I never truly learned to play an instrument still amazes me, despite taking guitar lessons. Discovering boys and hanging out with friends pulled my attention away from the focus and discipline necessary to develop that skill, but the importance of music absolutely stuck. Most of what I remember from those early years in the 70s was southern rock. I had always credited my mother's first husband (that is all I will ever call him) with exposing me to music, likely because he had been a drummer, played guitar and our house was often filled with other musicians jamming. My affinity for blues music actually came from my mother's listening preferences. She loved rock without a doubt - something that later made her a borderline cool mom in the eyes of my friends - but those early experiences with Led Zepplin, the Beatles (yes, some of their stuff has that blues influence), George Harrison (my mother's all-time biggest crush next to Paul Anka), The Rolling Stones, and yes, Eric Clapton are tied her.
The moment I heard Bad Love, I was all about Clapton and digging into his earlier music like graduating depended on it. If it had, I would have been in the top 10 of my class. Stevie Ray Vaughan was another artist - gone far too soon - that shaped the latter half of my high school years. Of course, not everything Clapton did was technically blues - the whole country thing I wouldn't appreciate until many years later. Derek and the Dominos won me over completely. Layla - I mean, aside from his cover of I Shot the Sheriff and Wonderful Tonight, there isn't another song I remember from childhood so clearly, and let's be honest, what teenage girl isn't going to fall in love with that one. From there Let It Rain and Blues Power - not to mention Cream's Badge - and my affinity for Clapton began to really take root. Bell Bottom Blues, however, instantly became that one song I could listen to endlessly and never get tired of hearing. It still is.
The lyrics describe the agony of a relationship that's passed its expiration, but only from one person's perspective. It's the epitome of desperation and it inadvertently became the emotional reaction to nearly every breakup from a serious (at least as far as I was concerned) relationship. The gutwrenching heartbreak of being cheated on, left, broken up with and discarded. I am certain if there were a class in how to be the poster girl of broken record despondency, I would have aced it. Of course, it rarely had anything to do with the guys I'd forever call exes, it was more about the sad, unhealthy type of relationship I continued to find myself in. Always the wrong guy, always giving way more to the relationship and getting far less in return, never recognizing my own worth - the cycle of abuse sets some crazy patterns it can take a lifetime to correct. Not realizing that love isn't something that you should have to cling to for dear life or beg to have bestowed upon you, it's no surprise I've amassed a catalog of failed relationships. Love that isn't freely given or somewhat balanced in reciprocation isn't really love, after all.
So, while I absolutely continue to love the pangs of knowing I get when I hear the song, I don't actually want to be the one to crawl across the floor to someone who clearly doesn't love me, and I'd never want to beg anyone to take me back. And while it has that ring of young, inexperienced heartbreak - the kind that if, as a 17-yr old girl a guy had ever said to, I thought would prove a guy loved me - this battle-worn, relationship veteran understands loving the song doesn't mean having to live it. I'd like to say it's astonishing that I only arrived at that conclusion in the last couple of years, but sadly that's the truth. I am grateful that realization didn't taint my affinity for hearing the song over and over again, but moreover, I find a kind of peace in finally understanding I'm not destined to run the hamster wheel of disfunction and poor imitations of love.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Feeling A Bit Like Groundhog Day
I've seriously lost count of how many days I've been housebound. Not because I'm having the time of my life – more like the days just run together with nothing unique to set them apart. I do know that Bob Marley (the comedian) has the right count. I started working from home the same day he started his 'Crona Watch 2020' videos. (And because I linked his Facebook page, I know now it's been 35 days – Holy Hannah)
As a kid, many of us played the whole 'If you could only take XYZ with you on a deserted island, what would you take' type games. I can tell you with complete certainty that I have NONE of the things I thought I would need or want with me in any kind of isolation. Like none of them. That said, I am fortunate enough to have everything that I need to stay healthy, mindfully present and emotionally balanced during this kind of social distancing. I would say I walk the line between extrovert and introvert, and though I can be outgoing and sociable, I crave and value my alone time like every self-respecting introvert. Just the fact that it's been over a month since I've had any in-person interactions with friends and family (outside of my roommate) makes it tough to see the still long road ahead. There's AT LEAST another 20 days of isolation to endure, though I fully expect more. I spend most days redirecting my thoughts and perception of this current situation because I have it ridiculously good. I am truly grateful.
In addition to still being gainfully employed and receiving a paycheck every week, I have a roommate to keep me in the habit of in-person conversation and socializing, two loving dogs who couldn't be happier we are both home all the time, a full fridge and pantry, a roof over my head with all assortment of creature comforts, and I have a side hustle that adds purpose, positivity, and wellness to my life (not to mention a second paycheck). I know that despite all these things I am allowed to have moments of frustration, sadness, and impatience, but I try to push most of those aside and use this time as an opportunity to remember that I have a good life. It's also a good time to reflect on how I interact with the planet. Understanding what I have taken for granted and also neglected to do to preserve and respect our environment and the life it holds beyond human.
Most days I get up, work out, work, cook and work on building my Arbonne business. It's repetitive and sometimes feels wholly unimportant in the grand scheme of what so many are dealing with right now. Not being able to see friends and family is tough, but I know they are all okay. I believe there is something tangible in that knowledge and I've grabbed onto it. There may come a day when that changes, but for now, I hold it close and appreciate the gift that each day like this is.
I thought I might drink more. I expected to be crawling the walls with irritation. I've managed to avoid both of those things so far. I've had a beverage or two, but nothing more. There have been moments I wanted to complain about being bored, but instead, I've changed my view - either by going for a walk, moving to a different room or sitting outside and enjoying the sun when it shines. Being cooped up with one person could have led to irritability of intense levels, but 35 days in we are still cohabitating without incident. For two strong-willed, stubborn people, that's a hell of an accomplishment.
So, looking ahead to an uncertain future, I remind myself that no future is certain aside from eventual death. Being housebound does not make the coming days any more of a mystery. The anticipation of being able to once again resume social gatherings and moving about in the world more freely can either cause you stress or make you more mindful and appreciative. It's a choice, at least for those of us with nothing of consequence to complain or lament about.
As a kid, many of us played the whole 'If you could only take XYZ with you on a deserted island, what would you take' type games. I can tell you with complete certainty that I have NONE of the things I thought I would need or want with me in any kind of isolation. Like none of them. That said, I am fortunate enough to have everything that I need to stay healthy, mindfully present and emotionally balanced during this kind of social distancing. I would say I walk the line between extrovert and introvert, and though I can be outgoing and sociable, I crave and value my alone time like every self-respecting introvert. Just the fact that it's been over a month since I've had any in-person interactions with friends and family (outside of my roommate) makes it tough to see the still long road ahead. There's AT LEAST another 20 days of isolation to endure, though I fully expect more. I spend most days redirecting my thoughts and perception of this current situation because I have it ridiculously good. I am truly grateful.
In addition to still being gainfully employed and receiving a paycheck every week, I have a roommate to keep me in the habit of in-person conversation and socializing, two loving dogs who couldn't be happier we are both home all the time, a full fridge and pantry, a roof over my head with all assortment of creature comforts, and I have a side hustle that adds purpose, positivity, and wellness to my life (not to mention a second paycheck). I know that despite all these things I am allowed to have moments of frustration, sadness, and impatience, but I try to push most of those aside and use this time as an opportunity to remember that I have a good life. It's also a good time to reflect on how I interact with the planet. Understanding what I have taken for granted and also neglected to do to preserve and respect our environment and the life it holds beyond human.
Most days I get up, work out, work, cook and work on building my Arbonne business. It's repetitive and sometimes feels wholly unimportant in the grand scheme of what so many are dealing with right now. Not being able to see friends and family is tough, but I know they are all okay. I believe there is something tangible in that knowledge and I've grabbed onto it. There may come a day when that changes, but for now, I hold it close and appreciate the gift that each day like this is.
I thought I might drink more. I expected to be crawling the walls with irritation. I've managed to avoid both of those things so far. I've had a beverage or two, but nothing more. There have been moments I wanted to complain about being bored, but instead, I've changed my view - either by going for a walk, moving to a different room or sitting outside and enjoying the sun when it shines. Being cooped up with one person could have led to irritability of intense levels, but 35 days in we are still cohabitating without incident. For two strong-willed, stubborn people, that's a hell of an accomplishment.
So, looking ahead to an uncertain future, I remind myself that no future is certain aside from eventual death. Being housebound does not make the coming days any more of a mystery. The anticipation of being able to once again resume social gatherings and moving about in the world more freely can either cause you stress or make you more mindful and appreciative. It's a choice, at least for those of us with nothing of consequence to complain or lament about.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Lest We Forget
I absolutely love seeing families exploring things right in their backyards, playing and learning, and simply spending quality time together they would otherwise have missed out on. It is heartwarming and such an amazing positive worth highlighting. What makes it difficult, however, is the reality that there families whose time is anything but harmonious right now. Some because of the turmoil they find themselves in amidst positive COVID-19 within their circle, but for far too many it's the abusive cycles that there is little to no break from.
Far from wanting to be a downer, I feel it part of my responsibility as a human being to understand and recognize the yin and the yang in situations. I cannot ignore that there are countless children, women, and men who are right now living in a full-time hellish existence at the hands of someone who is supposed to love and care for them. My childhood has the stain of abuse at the hands of a man who should have protected, taught, guided and loved me. Instead, I was subjected to aggressive over-the-knee spankings for a myriad of childhood errs – none of which were ever deserving of a black and blue backside that made sitting uncomfortable for days. Nothing that I said or did was ever so wrong or disrespectful that I should endure verbal assaults that left me in tears and in danger of a bruised bottom or face. I was a child that should have been lovingly taught right from wrong, through guidance and occasional consequences that re-inforced better choices without emotional or physical torment and abuse. I was fortunate. My mother divorced that man and at the age of 12, I was not made to continue visitation with him. I got out of that hell.
There is an appalling number of people who don't have that opportunity. Right now, for many, there is no work, no daycare, no school and it's causing stress – uncertainty, cabin fever, financial worry, and fear – that is heightening abusers need to control their surroundings through violence and terror. The recipients of this deplorable weakness known as ABUSE have no reprieve, no break, and no escape. There will sadly be a rise in injury and death incidences due to domestic abuse (spousal, partner and child) during this time of stay-at-home. Most of us go through our days right now, lamenting about having nothing to do, missing our family and friends and an array of other things, while someone in our neighborhood is being belittled, molested, brainwashed, raped, and beaten on a far more regular basis than before. It's impossible to not feel helpless.
I don't bring this up to throw negativity into an already gloomy situation. I call attention to it because it matters. It's happening and it's been a problem for longer than this virus's life span will be. There are people who are dealing with deaths of loved ones, both from COVID-19 and from other causes, that cannot comfort the ones they love or receive comfort in their time of need. There are people struggling with illness unrelated to, but certainly putting them at higher risk of contracting this virus. People are separated from their loved ones and have no idea when they will be able to hold them close again. And yes, there are millions of people dealing with all of these things AND being abused by someone in their home, as well.
Home is not a bad place to be unless you are one of those millions whose dwelling is a place of violence. We may not be able to do anything about what's happening next door, down the street or in the neighborhood right now, short of calling the authorities - which can make things worse but provides interruption and possible separation of the offender from the home. What we can do is be aware and share the somber weight that boredom is an absolutely amazing problem to have. Abuse of any kind is wrong. It's criminal to strike another person as a means to control, to take what is desired without consent as an exertion of power over someone, to neglect, starve, manipulate and demean. If you can offer a safe place, do it. If you can be a safe source of support and judgment-free compassion, be that. Just don't be ignorant to the fact that turning a blind eye or ignoring these things means they don't exist or aren't your problem.
We are in this life together and the only way we make it through stronger is to be united in all possible ways.
Far from wanting to be a downer, I feel it part of my responsibility as a human being to understand and recognize the yin and the yang in situations. I cannot ignore that there are countless children, women, and men who are right now living in a full-time hellish existence at the hands of someone who is supposed to love and care for them. My childhood has the stain of abuse at the hands of a man who should have protected, taught, guided and loved me. Instead, I was subjected to aggressive over-the-knee spankings for a myriad of childhood errs – none of which were ever deserving of a black and blue backside that made sitting uncomfortable for days. Nothing that I said or did was ever so wrong or disrespectful that I should endure verbal assaults that left me in tears and in danger of a bruised bottom or face. I was a child that should have been lovingly taught right from wrong, through guidance and occasional consequences that re-inforced better choices without emotional or physical torment and abuse. I was fortunate. My mother divorced that man and at the age of 12, I was not made to continue visitation with him. I got out of that hell.
There is an appalling number of people who don't have that opportunity. Right now, for many, there is no work, no daycare, no school and it's causing stress – uncertainty, cabin fever, financial worry, and fear – that is heightening abusers need to control their surroundings through violence and terror. The recipients of this deplorable weakness known as ABUSE have no reprieve, no break, and no escape. There will sadly be a rise in injury and death incidences due to domestic abuse (spousal, partner and child) during this time of stay-at-home. Most of us go through our days right now, lamenting about having nothing to do, missing our family and friends and an array of other things, while someone in our neighborhood is being belittled, molested, brainwashed, raped, and beaten on a far more regular basis than before. It's impossible to not feel helpless.
I don't bring this up to throw negativity into an already gloomy situation. I call attention to it because it matters. It's happening and it's been a problem for longer than this virus's life span will be. There are people who are dealing with deaths of loved ones, both from COVID-19 and from other causes, that cannot comfort the ones they love or receive comfort in their time of need. There are people struggling with illness unrelated to, but certainly putting them at higher risk of contracting this virus. People are separated from their loved ones and have no idea when they will be able to hold them close again. And yes, there are millions of people dealing with all of these things AND being abused by someone in their home, as well.
Home is not a bad place to be unless you are one of those millions whose dwelling is a place of violence. We may not be able to do anything about what's happening next door, down the street or in the neighborhood right now, short of calling the authorities - which can make things worse but provides interruption and possible separation of the offender from the home. What we can do is be aware and share the somber weight that boredom is an absolutely amazing problem to have. Abuse of any kind is wrong. It's criminal to strike another person as a means to control, to take what is desired without consent as an exertion of power over someone, to neglect, starve, manipulate and demean. If you can offer a safe place, do it. If you can be a safe source of support and judgment-free compassion, be that. Just don't be ignorant to the fact that turning a blind eye or ignoring these things means they don't exist or aren't your problem.
We are in this life together and the only way we make it through stronger is to be united in all possible ways.
Sunday, March 29, 2020
The Dangers in Short-Sighted Views
Day 19 of being homebound
I make light of our circumstances to try and normalize my days, but that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate the gravity of the situation. This invisible threat is downright terrifying on so many levels. Aside from the possibility of taking ill with it myself – which is not my main concern – the idea that on the rare occasion I leave the house for the grocery store I could become an unwitting carrier is beyond difficult to accept. It boggles my mind that not everyone feels this way.
Twenty-five years ago, I was pregnant with my oldest son. It wasn't planned and I spent the first trimester crying my eyes out. The moment I felt the first flutter of movement, something inside me flipped. I was still scared of the unknown changes that would accompany my child's entrance into this world, but everything I did from that moment forward was anchored in protecting him. I watched what I ate and what I drank, where I went and what I did. The life growing inside of me depended on my awareness and responsible behavior, as it did my love and nurturing. When he was finally welcomed into this world, his entrance was marred with health concerns. He was taken swiftly to another hospital with a neonatal unit, and I had to stay where I was. In an instant, I could no longer protect my child – his care and safety now in the hands of medical staff in another facility just over a mile away.
Fear bubbled to the surface and I quickly wondered if my son's health condition was due to something I had done or hadn't done while pregnant. Had I eaten the wrong things, did that fall down the stairs affect him after all, or was my body somehow inhospitable post-rape? The number of questions that flooded my head was dizzying, and once my son was released from the NICU, I was almost paralyzed with how to care for him. What if I did something wrong? What if someone else did something wrong when they held or watched him? Being a mother to this tiny little being with all his fingers and toes was not as I had imagined. It was filled with second-guessing, apprehension and all-out fear that I was not going to be able to keep him safe.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, I found the joy in watching this little human grow. My heart ached to burst with how much I loved him. I eventually relaxed and allowed him to fall without scooping him up instantly, I gave him the freedom to explore his surroundings even though I wanted to bubble wrap everything in sight. He bumped his head countless times, fell flat on his face when learning to crawl and then walk, and he'd cry for a bit, but I didn't prematurely console him. When he was old enough to carry on conversations, he asserted his independence. This threw me into another cycle of panic. I knew he needed to figure things out on his own, but watching your child fail, get frustrated or banged up as they learn is one of the hardest things to stand by and do.
When my second son came into the world, my oldest declared he was too big for nearly everything I had come to love with him. Cuddle time was for babies and he wanted to do everything himself. There are no truly adequate words to describe the pull between the infant who needed me for everything and the nearly four-year-old who wanted total independence. As the years past and the boys got older, my instinct to protect and comfort them never left. When they'd gotten into an argument with a friend, injured themselves on the field playing sports, had their hearts broken by their first girlfriends, my heart ached with them. The desire to pull them into an embrace and hold them safe from it all forever was powerful and difficult to resist. The bigger they got, the more I had to face the fact that I couldn't protect them from life. I could give them as many tools to guide them as possible, but I would not be able to shield them the way I had when they were babies.
They've become adults and all the pride I have in who they are aside, I still feel that instinctual pull to cover them and deflect life's bumps and tumbles. I feel no less yearning to take their pain and disappointment away than I did when they were frustrated toddlers falling down every few steps. If anything, the intense need to protect them when I was carrying them during those pregnancies is far greater after 2+ years. They are my children no matter how old they get or how independent of me they become.
I feel similarly to my siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. Their importance in my life is always synonymous with their well-being and safety, because if they are at risk, then their role in my life is at risk. I make every conscious effort to consider my actions–my choices and how they affect those around me. Consideration, awareness, the ability to recognize that even if I don't know someone, the likelihood is there are people in their life that feel as I do about my sons, my family, and my friends. Every single life matters. I don't have to agree with a person or even like them to understand that they have a right to live the best life possible.
I understand that the irresponsible choices I have made had effects that stretched beyond my own consequences. While few of us are able to get through life without inadvertently affecting those around us in a negative way, we all have the ability to learn from those mistakes and poor choices. What good is having the freedom to do something if what you choose to do infringes on the rights of others, leaving them bearing the weight of consequence they did not deserve to pay?
I stay home in this time of uncertainty because every person out there is someone's family, someone's treasured friend. Exercising my freedom to move about the world, come and go as I please and continue to do whatever I want would be selfish and irresponsible in this crisis. I have no desire to unwittingly become a vehicle for a virus that could end someone's life, simply because this is 'a free country.' It completely blows my mind that anyone would resist the urge to act in the interest of the many when it counts the most. Whether people choose to see it or not, we are all in this together. Our actions and inactions affect others, and in ways that are unconscionable. It doesn't matter that you might not believe the situation is as bad as it is, what matters is that it's better to over-prepare and overreact than it is to wonder if we did everything we could have later on.
The act of choosing to take one for the team and stay the fuck home right now is not difficult. Sure, it's inconvenient, it's boring and even intolerable at times, but it's a simple act that has widespread benefit. Consider the people in your life. You don't have to be a parent to identify with fierce bonds that evoke protection and a caring instinct. You don't have to know someone who is COVID-19 positive to accept that this virus is ravaging the lives of hundreds of thousands. You and those you know do not the gauge of legitimacy and it's small-minded and egocentric to think that because you aren't directly affected that the virus is bullshit or the concoction of some political ploy. Just because a person has never traveled to and knows no one who has ever traveled to Antarctica doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Get your heads out of the sand and accept that there is more to the world than your narrow view. Stay home, wash your hands and accept that it will take all of us to do our parts to get through this pandemic if we hold any hope of recovering as a society and as the human race when it is finally over.
I make light of our circumstances to try and normalize my days, but that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate the gravity of the situation. This invisible threat is downright terrifying on so many levels. Aside from the possibility of taking ill with it myself – which is not my main concern – the idea that on the rare occasion I leave the house for the grocery store I could become an unwitting carrier is beyond difficult to accept. It boggles my mind that not everyone feels this way.
Twenty-five years ago, I was pregnant with my oldest son. It wasn't planned and I spent the first trimester crying my eyes out. The moment I felt the first flutter of movement, something inside me flipped. I was still scared of the unknown changes that would accompany my child's entrance into this world, but everything I did from that moment forward was anchored in protecting him. I watched what I ate and what I drank, where I went and what I did. The life growing inside of me depended on my awareness and responsible behavior, as it did my love and nurturing. When he was finally welcomed into this world, his entrance was marred with health concerns. He was taken swiftly to another hospital with a neonatal unit, and I had to stay where I was. In an instant, I could no longer protect my child – his care and safety now in the hands of medical staff in another facility just over a mile away.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, I found the joy in watching this little human grow. My heart ached to burst with how much I loved him. I eventually relaxed and allowed him to fall without scooping him up instantly, I gave him the freedom to explore his surroundings even though I wanted to bubble wrap everything in sight. He bumped his head countless times, fell flat on his face when learning to crawl and then walk, and he'd cry for a bit, but I didn't prematurely console him. When he was old enough to carry on conversations, he asserted his independence. This threw me into another cycle of panic. I knew he needed to figure things out on his own, but watching your child fail, get frustrated or banged up as they learn is one of the hardest things to stand by and do.
When my second son came into the world, my oldest declared he was too big for nearly everything I had come to love with him. Cuddle time was for babies and he wanted to do everything himself. There are no truly adequate words to describe the pull between the infant who needed me for everything and the nearly four-year-old who wanted total independence. As the years past and the boys got older, my instinct to protect and comfort them never left. When they'd gotten into an argument with a friend, injured themselves on the field playing sports, had their hearts broken by their first girlfriends, my heart ached with them. The desire to pull them into an embrace and hold them safe from it all forever was powerful and difficult to resist. The bigger they got, the more I had to face the fact that I couldn't protect them from life. I could give them as many tools to guide them as possible, but I would not be able to shield them the way I had when they were babies.
They've become adults and all the pride I have in who they are aside, I still feel that instinctual pull to cover them and deflect life's bumps and tumbles. I feel no less yearning to take their pain and disappointment away than I did when they were frustrated toddlers falling down every few steps. If anything, the intense need to protect them when I was carrying them during those pregnancies is far greater after 2+ years. They are my children no matter how old they get or how independent of me they become.
I feel similarly to my siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. Their importance in my life is always synonymous with their well-being and safety, because if they are at risk, then their role in my life is at risk. I make every conscious effort to consider my actions–my choices and how they affect those around me. Consideration, awareness, the ability to recognize that even if I don't know someone, the likelihood is there are people in their life that feel as I do about my sons, my family, and my friends. Every single life matters. I don't have to agree with a person or even like them to understand that they have a right to live the best life possible.
I understand that the irresponsible choices I have made had effects that stretched beyond my own consequences. While few of us are able to get through life without inadvertently affecting those around us in a negative way, we all have the ability to learn from those mistakes and poor choices. What good is having the freedom to do something if what you choose to do infringes on the rights of others, leaving them bearing the weight of consequence they did not deserve to pay?
I stay home in this time of uncertainty because every person out there is someone's family, someone's treasured friend. Exercising my freedom to move about the world, come and go as I please and continue to do whatever I want would be selfish and irresponsible in this crisis. I have no desire to unwittingly become a vehicle for a virus that could end someone's life, simply because this is 'a free country.' It completely blows my mind that anyone would resist the urge to act in the interest of the many when it counts the most. Whether people choose to see it or not, we are all in this together. Our actions and inactions affect others, and in ways that are unconscionable. It doesn't matter that you might not believe the situation is as bad as it is, what matters is that it's better to over-prepare and overreact than it is to wonder if we did everything we could have later on.
The act of choosing to take one for the team and stay the fuck home right now is not difficult. Sure, it's inconvenient, it's boring and even intolerable at times, but it's a simple act that has widespread benefit. Consider the people in your life. You don't have to be a parent to identify with fierce bonds that evoke protection and a caring instinct. You don't have to know someone who is COVID-19 positive to accept that this virus is ravaging the lives of hundreds of thousands. You and those you know do not the gauge of legitimacy and it's small-minded and egocentric to think that because you aren't directly affected that the virus is bullshit or the concoction of some political ploy. Just because a person has never traveled to and knows no one who has ever traveled to Antarctica doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Get your heads out of the sand and accept that there is more to the world than your narrow view. Stay home, wash your hands and accept that it will take all of us to do our parts to get through this pandemic if we hold any hope of recovering as a society and as the human race when it is finally over.
Saturday, March 28, 2020
Being Homebound Isn't The End of The World, Even If It Feels Like It
Day 18 of Self-Isolation 2020:
What do you do when you're most proficient at finding ways to avoid doing things you know you should be doing? I've spent some serious time avoiding things that are productive or fooling myself into thinking I'm trying to be efficient by analyzing the fuck out of everything. Ultimately, I'm wasting valuable time and letting some of the best writing material pass me by - all because I frequently find myself paralyzed from taking the right kind of action.
The same could be said for my dating life. I'm easy-going enough and appreciate artistic souls, but all too often I find myself knee-deep in situations that aren't conducive to the path I'm on. Of course, being the person I am, much rationalizing and compromise is made to make a true faith effort, without acknowledging the simple truth that a square peg will not fit in a round hole. It doesn't matter how much I give, do or want something to pan out, at the end of the day, the fact that I'm the only one putting in any kind of effort should be all the evidence necessary to pack it up and move on.
In this madness of pandemic protocol, much of what I do or do to avoid doing actual things is without a doubt the biggest disservice to my life and my goals. The reality is that being homebound with no clear end date for someone who excels at procrastination like I do, is a recipe for years of regret. I know that I could be making far better use of my time than binge-watching mindless television series, baking copious amounts of snack foods than necessary for two people, and spending hours on social media without any true purpose, yet here I am, 18 days into self-quarantine and what exactly do I have to show for it?
Now, part of this reluctance to get real is based in the disbelief that we are facing the type of situation that we are - I mean, who really wants to admit that life as we know it has once again changed drastically, but post 9/11, the change will be far more lengthy in its devastation economically, socially and historically. We are living through something that has only hinted at the level of seriousness because honestly, there are few of us who could willingly comprehend the gravity of all this pandemic will annihilate of life as we know it.
So, instead of delving deeper into writing my book, I distract myself with all manner of import, desperately clinging to the illusion that I can maintain my path and minimize the level of fucked beyond belief that I will find myself when this all starts to even out again. It's laughable that there's even the thought of leveling off or evening out. Whether it's under 5% of the world's population that is met by death when all is said and done or not, that's a fucking insane number of people to be taken from the world and anyone who is even half-way aware of that will have a difficult time getting 'back to normal.'
More than half of the people I am friends with on social media have resorted to drinking far more than they likely did before COVID-19 became a pandemic and forced us into isolation to prevent the spread - and I understand far more than I'd like to admit just why that is. Facing the reality that life is undergoing a monumental upheaval is beyond difficult for those who are what I'd consider well-adjusted, so for the rest of the population who were barely hanging in there or who had reached 'expert' level in avoidance of the truth, this situation has shined a spotlight on Americans' inability to keep calm and move on. Granted, there's a bit of fun and humor in how we are devolving, if you don't look too closely or for too long.
That there is an altogether too large section of the population who value their 'freedoms' over the safety, health, and lives of others isn't news. Frankly, I'm disgusted at the lengths people are going to just to flaunt how little regard they have for their fellow Americans. This alone has made it challenging on a daily basis to find the silver lining before my head hits the pillow at night. Challenging, but not impossible. Despite all the negativity and the grim outlook in the coming weeks, finding the smallest nuggets of positive energy has become my main objective. I'd be crumbling into a big, waling heap on the floor if I weren't redirecting my thoughts and embracing what I am grateful for in my life.
It isn't easy, and often times it is just barely enough to pull me away from the edge of the downward spiral of pessimism. The thing is, I won't stop. Even getting one step ahead of the madness is progress and it means I've made it through another day relatively unscathed. I may not be focusing on the things I want to be doing or I think I should be doing, but clearly, my mind is fixed on keeping itself as healthy and capable of seeing the good around me. Just like extreme fatigue can force us to get much-needed rest for our health and well-being, spending your days staying ahead of the depressing and paralyzing realities dawning is no small feat and should not be seen as failure or weakness.
This is my perspective. Whatever you're doing right now to stay ahead of the panic, depression, anxiety, fear, etc, that isn't causing your body, mind, soul or anyone else's harm, keep doing it. You might be treading water, but that means your head is still above water and you aren't drowning. My emotions and thoughts right now vacillate between 'I've got this' and 'we are all fucked.' The important thing is that I manage to pull myself out of the depths of dread by employing a few different techniques. The newest of these is something I learned from Mel Robbins (she's freaking brilliant). I won't even begin to do it justice, but the idea is to interrupt your thought process by consciously counting backward from 5, out loud. I was skeptical, but I find myself using this regularly, whether it's to interrupt that inner hampster wheel or I need to get serious about tackling a task I've been procrastinating around. Other similar things are getting up from wherever I'm sitting and walking into another room. I would venture a guess that it's engaging a similar disrupter in my brain. I've also gotten out in the fresh air and gone for a short walk, cranked loud, heavy music for a song or two, or allowed someone else's interruption of my time pulling me out of the cycle. The key is finding what works for you AND having the discipline to use it.
This afternoon, as I sat down to write, I was antsy and struggling to sit still long enough to get anything at all out on the screen. My roommate can be quite verbose and despite my initial internal eye roll when he started a conversation with me, I visualized that countdown from 5 to 1 and relaxed into being his captive audience. By the end of the conversation, I was able to turn my attention to my laptop screen and started typing. It isn't always easy, but I cannot deny the real implications of resisting something you don't want to do - it always becomes far more unbearable and further roots your mindset in negativity. I don't always succeed, but more often than not, I manage to squash a bad mood or unproductive train of thought, and that's really all that matters. That and encouraging my inner belief that I can succeed, even if it's just in finding the best part of the day and celebrating it in some small way. Life may look like a shit sandwich right now, but even if everything is falling down around you, there is always something good worth your focus and energy.
What do you do when you're most proficient at finding ways to avoid doing things you know you should be doing? I've spent some serious time avoiding things that are productive or fooling myself into thinking I'm trying to be efficient by analyzing the fuck out of everything. Ultimately, I'm wasting valuable time and letting some of the best writing material pass me by - all because I frequently find myself paralyzed from taking the right kind of action.
The same could be said for my dating life. I'm easy-going enough and appreciate artistic souls, but all too often I find myself knee-deep in situations that aren't conducive to the path I'm on. Of course, being the person I am, much rationalizing and compromise is made to make a true faith effort, without acknowledging the simple truth that a square peg will not fit in a round hole. It doesn't matter how much I give, do or want something to pan out, at the end of the day, the fact that I'm the only one putting in any kind of effort should be all the evidence necessary to pack it up and move on.
In this madness of pandemic protocol, much of what I do or do to avoid doing actual things is without a doubt the biggest disservice to my life and my goals. The reality is that being homebound with no clear end date for someone who excels at procrastination like I do, is a recipe for years of regret. I know that I could be making far better use of my time than binge-watching mindless television series, baking copious amounts of snack foods than necessary for two people, and spending hours on social media without any true purpose, yet here I am, 18 days into self-quarantine and what exactly do I have to show for it?
Now, part of this reluctance to get real is based in the disbelief that we are facing the type of situation that we are - I mean, who really wants to admit that life as we know it has once again changed drastically, but post 9/11, the change will be far more lengthy in its devastation economically, socially and historically. We are living through something that has only hinted at the level of seriousness because honestly, there are few of us who could willingly comprehend the gravity of all this pandemic will annihilate of life as we know it.
So, instead of delving deeper into writing my book, I distract myself with all manner of import, desperately clinging to the illusion that I can maintain my path and minimize the level of fucked beyond belief that I will find myself when this all starts to even out again. It's laughable that there's even the thought of leveling off or evening out. Whether it's under 5% of the world's population that is met by death when all is said and done or not, that's a fucking insane number of people to be taken from the world and anyone who is even half-way aware of that will have a difficult time getting 'back to normal.'
More than half of the people I am friends with on social media have resorted to drinking far more than they likely did before COVID-19 became a pandemic and forced us into isolation to prevent the spread - and I understand far more than I'd like to admit just why that is. Facing the reality that life is undergoing a monumental upheaval is beyond difficult for those who are what I'd consider well-adjusted, so for the rest of the population who were barely hanging in there or who had reached 'expert' level in avoidance of the truth, this situation has shined a spotlight on Americans' inability to keep calm and move on. Granted, there's a bit of fun and humor in how we are devolving, if you don't look too closely or for too long.
That there is an altogether too large section of the population who value their 'freedoms' over the safety, health, and lives of others isn't news. Frankly, I'm disgusted at the lengths people are going to just to flaunt how little regard they have for their fellow Americans. This alone has made it challenging on a daily basis to find the silver lining before my head hits the pillow at night. Challenging, but not impossible. Despite all the negativity and the grim outlook in the coming weeks, finding the smallest nuggets of positive energy has become my main objective. I'd be crumbling into a big, waling heap on the floor if I weren't redirecting my thoughts and embracing what I am grateful for in my life.
It isn't easy, and often times it is just barely enough to pull me away from the edge of the downward spiral of pessimism. The thing is, I won't stop. Even getting one step ahead of the madness is progress and it means I've made it through another day relatively unscathed. I may not be focusing on the things I want to be doing or I think I should be doing, but clearly, my mind is fixed on keeping itself as healthy and capable of seeing the good around me. Just like extreme fatigue can force us to get much-needed rest for our health and well-being, spending your days staying ahead of the depressing and paralyzing realities dawning is no small feat and should not be seen as failure or weakness.
This is my perspective. Whatever you're doing right now to stay ahead of the panic, depression, anxiety, fear, etc, that isn't causing your body, mind, soul or anyone else's harm, keep doing it. You might be treading water, but that means your head is still above water and you aren't drowning. My emotions and thoughts right now vacillate between 'I've got this' and 'we are all fucked.' The important thing is that I manage to pull myself out of the depths of dread by employing a few different techniques. The newest of these is something I learned from Mel Robbins (she's freaking brilliant). I won't even begin to do it justice, but the idea is to interrupt your thought process by consciously counting backward from 5, out loud. I was skeptical, but I find myself using this regularly, whether it's to interrupt that inner hampster wheel or I need to get serious about tackling a task I've been procrastinating around. Other similar things are getting up from wherever I'm sitting and walking into another room. I would venture a guess that it's engaging a similar disrupter in my brain. I've also gotten out in the fresh air and gone for a short walk, cranked loud, heavy music for a song or two, or allowed someone else's interruption of my time pulling me out of the cycle. The key is finding what works for you AND having the discipline to use it.
This afternoon, as I sat down to write, I was antsy and struggling to sit still long enough to get anything at all out on the screen. My roommate can be quite verbose and despite my initial internal eye roll when he started a conversation with me, I visualized that countdown from 5 to 1 and relaxed into being his captive audience. By the end of the conversation, I was able to turn my attention to my laptop screen and started typing. It isn't always easy, but I cannot deny the real implications of resisting something you don't want to do - it always becomes far more unbearable and further roots your mindset in negativity. I don't always succeed, but more often than not, I manage to squash a bad mood or unproductive train of thought, and that's really all that matters. That and encouraging my inner belief that I can succeed, even if it's just in finding the best part of the day and celebrating it in some small way. Life may look like a shit sandwich right now, but even if everything is falling down around you, there is always something good worth your focus and energy.
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
Has It Been Two Weeks Already?
Resurrecting the old blog during this time of uncertain and bizarre reality. I'd like to be focused on writing something else. Anything else, to be honest. The problem is, this is so fresh, so new and so uncharted I cannot begin to push my thoughts and emotions aside. I go through an ever growing array of feelings within any given hour – from positive to pensive and from fearful to unaffected. This pandemic has perimenopause looking like a toddler's temper tantrum.
People have long been disturbed, a bit touched, off-balance and otherwise, cuckoo, but on March 12, 2020 all bets were clearly off. News of the pandemic caused the inexplicable onset of hoarding of toilet paper. For a virus that has intestinal issues listed as 'rare,' this boggles the mind. That is, until you realize that the toilet paper shortage – no, the absolute scarcity of it – is more likely the result of opportunistic assholes who would sooner make money than be courteous and thoughtful of their fellow Americans. Cleaning agents like Lysol, Clorox and basically anything with bleach or ammonia have also been bought in mass quantity, leaving little more than dust on the store shelves once designated to display them. It's like some unfinished plot line is a far-fetched movie.
The news is conflicting, though that has probably withstood the chaos and is a standout of the now old norm. I try to refrain from watching much of it, sticking to a select, short list of trusted and respectable news outlets. I learned valuable lessons in the days and weeks following 9/11 about preserving my sanity and maintaining independent thought. I like to think that I'm a rational, compassionate and somewhat intelligent person, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. Without a doubt, I have strong opinions about what is happening, and how our government and we as a people are responding to this situation, but it isn't worth the added turmoil and unrest to air them on a continual basis, particularly via social media. I choose to disengage when confronted with opinions of others that are dressed in instant defensiveness, especially when the opinions shared are clearly a regurgitation of what I view as disreputable sources. It isn't worth my energy and I certainly don't have the space to let negative energy in these days. My primary effort is based in keeping that shit as far from me as possible. Choosing to embrace positive things is not always easy, in fact, it rarely is, but it is a far better way to live life.
When things go wrong, the pull to give in and give up can almost be a relief. It's not often our thoughts continue to envision worst case scenarios when we are mired in sadness, disappointment, hurt or grief. Those emotions consume us and are oddly almost comfortable, as though we've landed in a spot that's secure, even in all the uncertainty, fear and devastation. Joy and feeling good, however, are where most of us are all too aware how far the fall is from feeling great. Even if we push the second thoughts or the what ifs aside, the knowledge that 'this too shall end' is always waiting to present us with its 'I told you so's.' Giving in is almost certainly always easier than digging in and pushing forward. Easier isn't better and more than not lacks substance or meaning.
So in this new normal, I'm once again recognizing the importance of continuing to find the silver lining in each day, each situation and anytime I become aware that the weight of worry is pulling away from the good things that still exist and matter around me. I've been home for 14 days now, adjusting little by little whenever it's clear I need to redirect my energy. Hoping for the best outcome, but prepared to face the unimaginable with all of me trained to see the benefit and promise, while at the same time acknowledging the hardships and sadness that is sure to come.
People have long been disturbed, a bit touched, off-balance and otherwise, cuckoo, but on March 12, 2020 all bets were clearly off. News of the pandemic caused the inexplicable onset of hoarding of toilet paper. For a virus that has intestinal issues listed as 'rare,' this boggles the mind. That is, until you realize that the toilet paper shortage – no, the absolute scarcity of it – is more likely the result of opportunistic assholes who would sooner make money than be courteous and thoughtful of their fellow Americans. Cleaning agents like Lysol, Clorox and basically anything with bleach or ammonia have also been bought in mass quantity, leaving little more than dust on the store shelves once designated to display them. It's like some unfinished plot line is a far-fetched movie.
The news is conflicting, though that has probably withstood the chaos and is a standout of the now old norm. I try to refrain from watching much of it, sticking to a select, short list of trusted and respectable news outlets. I learned valuable lessons in the days and weeks following 9/11 about preserving my sanity and maintaining independent thought. I like to think that I'm a rational, compassionate and somewhat intelligent person, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. Without a doubt, I have strong opinions about what is happening, and how our government and we as a people are responding to this situation, but it isn't worth the added turmoil and unrest to air them on a continual basis, particularly via social media. I choose to disengage when confronted with opinions of others that are dressed in instant defensiveness, especially when the opinions shared are clearly a regurgitation of what I view as disreputable sources. It isn't worth my energy and I certainly don't have the space to let negative energy in these days. My primary effort is based in keeping that shit as far from me as possible. Choosing to embrace positive things is not always easy, in fact, it rarely is, but it is a far better way to live life.
When things go wrong, the pull to give in and give up can almost be a relief. It's not often our thoughts continue to envision worst case scenarios when we are mired in sadness, disappointment, hurt or grief. Those emotions consume us and are oddly almost comfortable, as though we've landed in a spot that's secure, even in all the uncertainty, fear and devastation. Joy and feeling good, however, are where most of us are all too aware how far the fall is from feeling great. Even if we push the second thoughts or the what ifs aside, the knowledge that 'this too shall end' is always waiting to present us with its 'I told you so's.' Giving in is almost certainly always easier than digging in and pushing forward. Easier isn't better and more than not lacks substance or meaning.
So in this new normal, I'm once again recognizing the importance of continuing to find the silver lining in each day, each situation and anytime I become aware that the weight of worry is pulling away from the good things that still exist and matter around me. I've been home for 14 days now, adjusting little by little whenever it's clear I need to redirect my energy. Hoping for the best outcome, but prepared to face the unimaginable with all of me trained to see the benefit and promise, while at the same time acknowledging the hardships and sadness that is sure to come.
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