The beginning of the end of our democracy

 8/26/21

I give up. I didn't know what my last straw was going to be on hope for "my" America to return, but last week was it - and I didn't expect that.

Seeing Kabul in Afghanistan fall to the Taliban in 10 days after the American military started to pull out and seeing the Afghans clinging to plane wings and falling to their deaths....gave me PTSD from my childhood visions of leaving Saigon. And I fell apart.

I stopping being able to eat or sleep. I had to pull out my anxiety meds full time. Trying to live a normal life and work (amid a shitshow of audits that had me pissed anyway) and getting Ben ready for his last year of school. And yesterday was the first day I didn't need to take any Xanax. 

This  morning...suicide bombers at the Kabul airport kill American civilians and military..and no response from the White House for hours.

I was hoping after the horror of the Trump years, at least Biden wouldn't do anything horrible. Up til now, he had done awesome with vaccinations, the American Rescue act to help pandemic money issues and trying to get legal voting rights back to all Americans.

And then he blew this bad. Very bad. Enough where I'm pretty sure the Republicans can spin this and win in 2022 and 2024. And that's the end. No decent person in either party can save us at this point. We're done.

I'm pretty sure than in 4 to 8 years we'll be back to a full Jim Crow/idiocracy/autocracy/theocracy.

What a disaster. Our worship of capitalism won over our love of democracy. Democracy lost. :(

Staring down 60

It's 1:30pm on a Sunday. George has been gone for 4 days now keeping watch with family during Uncle Joe's last days on the planet. The boys have been gold, of course, and the house has been unbelievably quiet. Kaileb is visiting with Erin today while she is temporarily living with us, so the house has come loudly to life. After a little playtime with him, I'm hiding in the bedroom with my thoughts.

I'm tired. Every day at this time, my small quantity of energy fails me and my back hurts too much to walk or even sit in my office chair. I only have two choices: spend the day in bed too tired to even open my eyelids to watch TV or take my pain meds for my back and allow this to conjure enough pain-free energy for me to participate in life for another day. So I took my pill and type while I feel my body come back to a little life.

I'm seeing a snapshot of one of my possible futures. A very quiet house and just me (the boys don't count because they RARELY leave their rooms) ....and maybe life without George. That life is sometimes wonderfully solitary. I have time to just be with my own thoughts. And then I realize how much he is my best friend and how blessed I am that we are at this lovely, comfortable part of our marriage and I am glad he is coming home soon and I am going to enjoy it as long as we have it together.

I have felt a real shift since I heard the news in July that I have another slipping vertebra (which also feels unstable, which bodes worse) and the knowledge that I have less than a month until I turn 60.

The Frantic Fifties are gone.

I had a great and crazy decade. 

My boys made it through homeschool, private school and public high school.

Danny has started college and Ben has been accepted to his.

I think my girls have had all their kids so my 4 oldest grandchildren are here and I know they love me.

My youngest daughter changed her name, moved away and forbids me to see her daughters. I grieved but I know my granddaughters love me and I hope I am still here when they can see me again.

I retooled my skills, started a new career - but after 6 years I am now down to 20 hrs/week. From my back pain and my fatigue, I know my working days are coming to an end.

But while life was moving and children were growing, I took the last grasp at life that I could by

Learning the flute after an original three week attempt 50 years ago in 4th grade. 

Trying ballroom dancing with the best husband ever and thinking it was going finally to be my dance thing after I stopped ballet 40 years ago...until the back betrayed me again.

Taking up painting, for the first time ever, and loving it...and understanding that I never realized how good a painter my mom was. This is unexpected and soul fulfilling and I think where life is leading me...if I'll listen.

So I've had a good run at taking my second chances. I thought I might have a shot at that women "who is the best shape of her life!" thing after 50...but that's not going to be me. 

I feel my life calming down when I accept that. I do not feel the little kid in me anymore. I have lived a very busy and fulfilling life but it's time to wind down. But I don't mean this in an "end of life" way. I mean that I feel that the way I will live my life from now on will be different. I will not be trying to conquer new things or new places or new challenges anymore. I have enough of them to last me for a life time.

I feel like it is time to embrace what I already have. What I already am. To love it, and appreciate it and nurture it. I feel a contracting of my world from trying to include everything I might miss - into not needing anything more than I already have and loving it more.

I don't know where the next decade will take me, but I know I will go there more slowly. Less helter skelter into new adventures. I will walk deliberately and gratefully into these years. And when I am done, I will be 70 and retired and living who knows where and who knows how. I try not to think about the fact that my mom didn't make it to her 70th birthday. That is the only thought that really terrifies me.

It is a daunting thought. I am trying not to be scared but calm and brave.

Well anyway, here's to the Scary Sixties to come.

 

Walls

This morning I'm thinking about the protection my own "walls" have given me against the outside world and it's is sorta changing my world.

For someone who spent their life protecting her gentle sensitive and "different" soul from others, why would I allow myself to open myself to nameless faceless miscreants on the internet? 

Why would I allow myself to be hurt by ignorant abusive comments by someone I wouldn't even allow myself to get close to in real life?

I know that I first got on social media to connect. I was in a new marriage, new house, new babies and basically trapped in my big, beautiful house with all men. So - I needed to connect.

At first, it was great! I found games to play with others, connected with old classmates I hadn't seen in decades and found an easy (and nonverbal interactive) way to communicate with my friends and family.

How has it morphed into this? Yes, the social media platforms are still my primary method of communicating with my family. But over the last two decades, I've trimmed my acquaintances and "friends" back to basically the few I had to begin with - with the wonderful exceptions of friends I had lost touch with in my childhood and a couple of "game" friends who turned into real, albeit online, friends.

Everything else out there has become toxic. Watch a few fun cat videos and then BAM a stupid ad or politic post interrupts the fun. All my news alerts have become climate change wildfires and floods, or horrible political horseshit flung by elected idiots with no intellect at all. I cringe when I open my phone now. 

I'm starting to realize what has happened. I don't know if it's me or the world, but most of the world is certifiably insane now - weather included. I need to build the wall again.

I don't know how to do that without losing contact with the people I love so I need to think about it. It's not hard, I just need to do it. It has been an addiction, and sometimes necessary to distract myself from a day of physical pain, but I need to find a way to put up that wall again. 

I need that wall. I always have. Until now, I've seen it as one of my flaws. But from here on out, I will see it as a way I protect myself because I love myself :)

I came back from vacation angry

Saturday night two weeks ago, I came back from vacation angry. For no apparent reason other than Florida being as hot as the face of the sun in July.

Ten days later, I've lived through such intense days of depression and now have moved into extreme anxiety that never seems to end.

Can't-take-a-breath anxiety.

Dreams-of-being-abducted-and-trying-to-signal-for-help level of anxiety.

I don't know what has stirred all this up. It could honestly be anything...the world in general is a complete mess right now. 

The Delta variant of COVID has spiked hugely in non-vaccinated states. We dodged a bullet during our Florida vacation to maskless Disney World...they went back to masking the week after we left and Florida is being overrun with COVID cases and deaths. And the governor is mad at people complaining he's FORBIDDEN mask ordinances!! The heat made him crazy....best guess, right?

Nothing can make the world feel normal or safe again. Disney was as close as I can get, and it felt lovely as it could while I was melting from the climate change Hell that is Earth now.

I had two lovely epiphanies this week, however, and I want to make sure I stop and appreciate them before they're lost.

First - this one was given to me by my anxiety sister, Tana. I had told her the story of how my Nanny had cried over me. During a family event at her house, I had gotten overwhelmed/bored/anxious as usual and retreated to her bedroom to read a book. Always the best place for me. Nanny followed me in and was in tears saying she was so worried about me. 

That has haunted me my whole life. Not only had I worried and disappointed myself because I couldn't handle crowds and gatherings, now I had disappointed the grandparent I loved most in the world by just being myself. It couldn't make me hate myself more.

But Tana said..."maybe she was worried she couldn't protect you from what she went through". I didn't understand at first. But she reminded me that Nanny was the one in the family with anxiety. She needed her daily Scotch Mist at 4pm every day to get through. She self-medicated her anxiety. And maybe...just maybe...she felt terrible that I was that way, too. I don't know, but it was such a different take on the situation and made me feel much better. Maybe she just felt bad for ME having to be the way I was. 

Second, I had a thunderbolt moment that came from I don't know where. I realized that so many women near me had to deal with narcissistic people in their life and I didn't know why they had to be subjected to that. I get so angry when I feel how they were treated. And that thought came together at the same time I was talking with Tana about how I have "had a wall up" my whole life that kept people out. I've never been picked up at a bar, never attracted people as friends, etc. My terror and mistrust of people has turned into a wall that keeps people away. 

A grey rock wall.

I've been grey rocking narcissists since I put up my wall as a child and they don't get through. I put off the vibe that I won't allow any bullshit so they don't bother. I guess. I have seen it that way for the first time and it is so freeing!

I started thinking about that one time I was corralled into a room with two narcissists in my extended family and verbally assaulted....I totally grey rocked. It was still traumatic and I had PTSD for years afterwards, but I remember the sense of total calm that came over me as I didn't respond and how they totally lost it and ran off in hysterical anger. It felt like a near miss...but it was my grey rock wall saving me again.

They've been furious at me ever since and I'm glad. Now I know they can't hurt me.

So...I've saved myself. Over and over again. I've suffered from my feelings of inadequacy that build the wall...but I'm so sensitive to people's body language and attitude and feelings that it's the only thing that has saved me from overload.  So it's the place I have to live to survive this life.

And these days, every day is overload. Every where I turn, the crazy of the world slams against my walls. Narcissists are multiplying like rabbits. For Lord's sake, we one for President!!

My walls aren't high enough anymore for the world. It's been years now of the post-truth, reality challenged, COVID killing world. 

I don't think we're every going back to normal.

The planet won't get cooler again.

People won't get nicer again.

Politics won't be "gentlemanly" again.

My vertebra won't back into place again.

Okay....so I understand the anger and depression and anxiety that roil up every day and bubble over.

I just don't know how to live with it.

And I'm so sad for my children....

My attractiveness quandary

 June 15, 2021

"When have you felt most attractive? Has your perception of what "being attractive" means changed over time?"

"What is your favorite inspirational quote?"

These are the questions my photographer posed to me for my "50 over 50" shoot this week. Whew.

The second one is easy. "Do everything with so much love in your heart that you would never do it any other way" by Guru Desai. I've lived by that for 30 years-or really, all my life.

The first one really has me stumped, though. In reality, I'm still searching for it now and it's one of the reasons I decided to do this photo shoot.

I've always wanted to be photogenic - but I'm not. That fact doesn't hurt at all anymore, it's just a part of me, like the color of my hair or my eyes. I don't have the bone structure that the camera loves. So it was hard to find myself attractive when I didn't see a reflection of it in photos early on. It helped so much when I had someone tell me that I am much prettier than my photos. I still choose to believe that 😁

I was an adorable child, but as I always say, "puberty hit me hard". My soft curls turned into a wiry bush of hair that grew straight out, not down. I got crazy ugly 70s glasses and metal braces in the same 4th grade year and that took nearly a decade to grow out of. 

I would say that I "grew into" my looks and really loved who I was in my 30s. I had lost my baby weight after college - and the baby weight of having two daughters after that. I finally learned to dress my body in the way that flattered me most, which was very hard for me, since I have zero fashion sense. I grew into a woman and a working mother of two who was very proud of her accomplishments and children. I realized I liked the way I looked...and had my very first photo shoot where I loved what I saw.  This was the most attractive I ever felt and it was surprising and wonderful!

And I finally left my relationship with a man who didn't think I was anything special at all - or very attractive.

By the time I remarried at 39, I really did finally feel like a beautiful bride this time. My husband loved me and saw me the way I saw myself. It took almost 40 years, but I was happy with the way I looked and who I was. It was a golden time and I was so grateful. It took so long, but I really appreciated life and I was so grateful that I looked young for as long as I did. I felt that not aging somehow made up a little for the fact that I had never been a beauty as a younger woman.

By the time I was 49, I had given birth to 2 boys in 2 years (one was even over 10 pounds!). I had been diagnosed with a connective tissue disease and fibromyalgia. I also developed a serious spinal condition and needed major surgery to stabilize- not correct- it. My concept of myself and my "attractiveness" really took a hit. I realized I would never again be the "me" that I had learned to love. I added constant pain and endless fatigue to my life. It was a serious adjustment - and one I continue to make.

For a while, I had a cane and a handicapped tag on my car. I wasn't able to keep up with my friends and family and activities and it was hard to keep feeling like myself. The pounds started to creep on because I couldn't keep active like I used to. The grey hairs and age spots and wrinkles started. I was fortunate in one area...I didn't finish menopause until I was almost 59, so I kept alot of the worse aging issues at bay longer than some women.

Now, at 59, I realize I am entering the beginning of the sunset times of my life. I may still have 20 or 30 years (my mom passed away at 65), but I now know that those years will be a steady stream of gaining grandchildren and pounds while losing abilities and family and friends. I have lived the prime of my life and, as should happen, I now look like my better physical days are behind me.

This is what I'm dealing with and why I decided to do this project. It is a snapshot of the decade like my other photo shoots from when I was 30, 40 and 50....but it is also the first one where I am truly aware that I am documenting the beginning of the ending of who I am and will be. I will continue to exercise and eat well, ballroom dance with my husband, travel with my family, play with my grandchildren and paint and sketch and learn the flute. But I will increasingly have to choose what I use my precious energy on as it gets more and more scarce. And one day, I will give up using that energy to dye my hair or draw my eyebrows or even stand up straight. I will use it to hug my kids and grandkids and paint and sketch and love. And not worry about my looks or being attractive anymore. I'm hoping that my family will think my chubby graying self will be adorable as she is. 😊

I am so grateful at least that I was able to have a time when I felt beautiful and thin and attractive. It wasn't a guarantee in my case and I truly appreciated it. 

Come to think of it, this will probably be my last photo shoot, because from here on, the beauty I build will be within, not without.

Thanks, Tracy :)

Assessing the View

I don't know why I signed up for the photo shoot.

I think it's because I've been doing them on the "decade" mark since I turned 30 and it's a tradition. But this one feels daunting...because it's the first decade I know I am starting to "age". 

I think I started going to professional photos shoots when I turned 30 because I was in awe that I was that old.

I had my wedding photos at 40 - and they were amazing and I was so happy I still looked good.

I took my 50 photo because I wanted to capture my last "sexy" shot for my husband, now that we were happily settled in our marriage.

And now...almost 60. I'm not sure.

I was "all in" when I saw the ad for the "50 over 50" project being done by a local photographer. I love that sort of stuff. I wanted to be part of the "group". And I felt pretty good.

Until I saw recent photos and videos of me. I'm not the "me" I was. 

And then I saw more photos of the project of subjects who were just over the 50 mark. They looked amazing.

That used to be me.

Now I'm not. I'm going to be 60 this year. The 50s were very hard on me. The me I see in the mirror now is not the Me I think I am. The acceptance of this is becoming increasingly difficult. I never minded my age - never. I was so proud I looked so young. But that time is over now.

The years are showing.

So I'm working hard on acceptance. Some things are making this hard. 

My mom passed away from lymphoma at 65. I can't wrap my head around the fact that if I have the same fate as her, I only have 5 more years. I know that's not statistically factual, but it's always hanging over my head.

I am in alot of constant pain and debilitating fatigue. I have a deteriorating spinal condition which was stabilized when I was 49 with a lot of hardware in my lower back, but it can never be corrected and can only be managed with rest and medication.

I have a subclinical form of connective tissue disease. I was formally diagnosed with UCTD (undifferentiated connective tissue disease-an autoimmune disease) in 2008, but technically that is in remission. I am left with secondary fibromyalgia....simply put, I have disabling fatigue and bodywide muscle pain every day with no cure and only managed...with rest and medication.

I get migraines a couple of times a month. Thank God for medication that works on me almost every time.

So...aside from the normal aging issues of dry spotty saggy skin, fading eyesight, greying hair and menopausal weight gain, I am in daily pain and fatigue and the things I can do for enjoyment are dwindling.

So I see a road ahead that has less options and more problems every year.

I have a loving family which makes this all bearable and gives me moments of unfettered joy - but my children are all but grown (my youngest is 17 and my oldest is 36) so my active mothering days are over and they were the best moments of my life.

So I end my 50s with less hope than I started my other decades.

I end my 50s more tired and pained than in my other decades.

So why am I doing this photoshoot? I honestly don't know.

But it has made me look at myself and see what I can salvage and do with what I have.

I treated myself to "retail therapy" yesterday and decided a full wardrobe makeover is needed. I need to dress for the body I have - not the body I had.

And I need to love this woman that I am. This body has traveled almost 6 decades with me and I need to take care of what I was given. I may be luckier than my mother and have more than 5 years left...but even if I don't, I have to enjoy what time I have.

This will probably be my last photo shoot. I have a pretty good picture of who I am after all.

Year Fear

May 19, 2021

This year is terrifying me. For multiple reasons.

The reason I feel the most everyday is that America is the not the country I remember growing up in. I was born at the beginning of the Flower Power movement and went to the school in the Swinging 70s. I graduated college and married at the beginning of the Roaring 80s and was a single mother in the 90s...which I have no name for but I loved. I remarried and had my last babies in the Aughts...the 2000s. And I was happy.

And then things began to change. I had major health issues and surgeries leading up to 2011. I lost the ability to run and bend and do my lifelong yoga postures easily. It seems to have been a long decade of losing things ever since...and now I'm almost finished my 50s and I don't recognize the person I am and the world I live in since I started this decade.

When I had to pull my boys out of public school in 2012 to give them a fair education, I lost the sense that I was "one of the crowd". I was the oddball mom who homeschooled her kids in one of the best school districts in the state. 

But I gained the best years with my family I've ever had.

When I went back to work in 2015 in order to pay for their private school when homeschool was done, I lost my babies. My youngest broke the connection with "mommy" hard. And fast. I went from holding his hand everywhere to not getting a hug or a kiss. For years. It almost broke me. 

But I gained a new education, a new certification and skill and new career to add to my knowledge and experience.

Next, I lost my battle with weight - and my waist. In 2004, after I had my second boy in less than 2 years, I found myself 10 pounds heavier than my "norm". No matter how I tried, or used the same methods that had worked before, I never got to my pre-Benjamin weight of 130. This was also my high school weight and my wedding weight and although it took more effort over the decades, I was always able to get there up until now. Until after my last child. I couldn't crack 140 again.

When I went back to work in 2015 I weighted 145 and was hoping that not being in the kitchen would help my weight. However....I was chair-bound for 5 days a week now and my weight slowly but steadily increased. In 2018, an additional combination of new antidepressants, antihypertensive, antihistamine and anxiety anxiety medications caused me to skyrocket from 145 to 163 in only a few months...even while going to the gym. After I realized the drug-weight connection, I went off all my meds, tried dieting again and got back down to a reasonable 155. 

In December 2019, my overwhelming fatigue and pain finally led me to cut back my work hours to 20/wk, and only 3 days in the chair. That helped my health and fatigue immensely as well as my weight. This past 18 months, hard work gets me at 150 and occasional dips down to the high 140s. But I have to really work hard to get there...and stay there.

But my body has forever changed. I am tormented by every single style that has a waist. I have none. I look forever 4 months pregnant. The "Barkley barrel stomach" has found me. I am a long way from obese..only 5 pounds from not even being overweight...yet here I am wearing a size 14 or XL with a 35" waist and no clothes will make me look sexy again. 

I don't want to give up...but I can't see what else I can do. More exercise or dieting does nothing. I am stuck in this body here forever. It's not horrible..and I know my mom would have killed to be this thin...but I'm so sad and angry and embarrassed. And there are no answers. I can't even discuss it with anyone because all my closest friends and family have a harder time than I do. So I keep my mouth shut and just look with incredulity at every fashion I can't wear. So funny that even in the days of "body pride" with large women dressing like they're skinny...I can't. Because I am not heavy all over.. just a preggo belly.

Why does this bother me so much? Maybe it's just on top of the other losses I've had this decade...daughter, granddaughters, sons-in-law........who knows? All I know is that this decade has really sucked. 

I hope my 60s are better 

Saturday in the Park with(out) George

March 27, 2021

Actually I'm not in the park. I'm in the front living room. And I'm not with George. He's in Johnstown visiting his family and his Uncle Joe, who is in the last stages of Multiple Myeloma.

The boys are asleep at 11:47am because - teenagers. And I would be, if I still could. That ability seemed to stop in my late 40s. This morning I woke up from a stressful dream that involved being in a hotel in London (I think), trying to get home on an airplane, finding myself somehow naked in the airport and trying to get help. For some reason I ended up in a very nice set of offices run by Sigourney Weaver who helped me get clothed..and connected me with someone on the phone who subsequently diagnosed me with something that kept me grounded and not able to get on my plane. I felt naked and helpless and someone else was determining my fate who didn't know me or my condition. I was trapped and scared and in someone else's hands.

That's how I woke up. That is sort of how my life has been feeling since the last administration and crazy people have taken over and sanity no longer reigns. Just this week the state of Georgia, pissed because the majority of people finally were able to dethrone the Republican miscreants who were their senators, decided to enact Jim Crow-level voting restrictions. 

My God, I can't believe this is America. I want out if this is what we are turning into.

I've been up for hours and the boys are still sleeping and one thought just keeps drumming in my mind...who am I when I am alone? I feel so comfortable in the marriage that George and I have made. I am so happy being the Mom of my wonderful boys and my one remaining daughter (the other has banned me from her life). But when they are not around at all, what is left?

This question more than any other haunts me. I was so lost before I became a mom and then later, found George. Myself alone seems to have no reason to be on this planet. I think most of humanity is a disaster (and this last 5 years has just confirmed that) and as I get older, the constant pains and fatigue from my myriad of ailments is just wearing me down.    

I'm tired of being in mental, emotional and physical pain. Living for the sake of living just isn't in me and never has been.

I've lived a long and interesting life. I've lived multiple lifetimes, multiple families, multiple careers, and multiple homes. I've honestly outlasted any dream I've ever had for myself. I don't really have a dream that I want enough to use up my remaining energy.

Well, possibly Hawaii. I do have a part of me that wants to live in a little house on the North shore of Kauai and walk along Halanalei Bay and eat roasted cinnamon nuts at sunset. I could make that dream happen...if I have the energy and will ...maybe.

But I'm running out of both. I've got probably another good 10 years to do stuff and another 10 years after that of waiting to leave this planet. Not alot to really get excited about.

I do try. I ballroom dance and try not to see how it's getting harder. I play the flute and try not to think about the day I won't be able to blow hard enough anymore. I paint..and know that I can probably do this forever, but for some reason the joy of painting has gone for me. I miss it.

I'm in a strange place in my life. I dread getting out of bed in the morning because the back pain starts and doesn't let up until I lay down at the end of the day. I do try. Every day. But I don't know what or how I'll do it when there is no one here to do it for.

I think my last prayer will be that I'm not left alone. 

Or I'll have to get another little white fluffy dog. 

Dang.

It's all a blur now

 Today is Thursday, February 25th, 2021. I think. 

Gone is the disbelief and slow panic from the beginning of the pandemic. Thankfully, also gone is the daily assault on reality now that the Trump train is not in power anymore. (Note: I literally cried like a baby when he was inaugurated...and that surprised the heck out of me.)  I'm still getting used to the daily calm and not feeling the need to get the daily news fix to know how close we are to WWIII because of that doofus.

It has been nearly a year since we entered our first lockdown. Each day blends into the next. The sameness has made my brain numb. We are so blessed that our lives were "relatively" uninterrupted after the boys made the transition to online schooling. 

We wake up. We log on. We work and learn. We stop for meals. We watch TV. We go to bed. Repeat.

The little saving graces include trips to the grocery store and our ballroom dance lessons and practice parties once or twice a week. Danny can still docent at the B&O train museum each Sunday since it's nicely spaced apart and everyone is still masking up. Ben was going to a neighbor friend's house once a month or so, but even those have stopped. 

Erin and Shayla break up the monotony when they stay here. Their homelife in Edgewater has broken apart so this is their part-time home for now. It is nice but sad when they are here. And when Kaileb comes to visit, it's a whirlwind. He is the embodiment of the Tasmania Devil!

The biggest change to our life overall has been the complete loss of travel. Countless plans have been made and changed and cancelled. I can't possibly get excited about a vacation because there is no guarantee we'll go. Last year we did make it to a week at Ocean City and a week at Massanutten...and they were tolerable because we spent most of our time in our rentals where we didn't have to worry about masks.

This year will be different - somewhat. The hospital where I am assigned (remotely) gave me my vaccinations in January so I'm all set. The rest of the family is in the lowest risk category so no idea when they will be "safe". We're planning the same vacations this summer so we can add that to another Groundhog Day-type event to add to this year.

The absence of anxiety about our government has allowed other emotions to surface...like depression. There are hard days now, especially when the weather is grey, when I just can't deal. But I do. I don't really hope for any particular thing anymore, just the hope that tomorrow I will feel better. Eventually I do. 

But my art has really suffered. I don't know why. Once we started the lockdown I should have been elated to have more time to paint and sketch, but it has dwindled to a slow trickle of pieces. I think because my art was always coming from a place of joy (flowers, scenery, family) that I don't have much these days. I still try. Some pieces are still okay. But I am not filled with the happiness I felt before. I could really use it right now, but....

So this is where we are. Doggie paddling through a stillness with no official end in sight. It's hard. But it could be so much worse. 

Our local drycleaner friend, Jeannie, passed away from COVID last August and we didn't find out until a passing neighborhood walker filled us in. My dearest high school friend lost her husband to suicide just a month ago. My stepmom found out she has breast cancer and is scheduled for surgery next month. Uncle Father Joe is at the end of his run with multiple myeloma and it seems like he has just months left. And of course, Erin's marriage finally imploded. 

So when I look around, I know how lucky we are. Our 20th anniversary is coming up in June and we are in a good place, which is a miracle in itself. Our boys seem to be doing fine and the rest of the family is healthy. But the world is still sick and it's like we live in a world that has a perpetual low-grade flu. And I think it will be like this for a while.

But we are still here. 

Happy 2021.

Goodbye 2020, hello....Insurrection?

January 11, 2021

My head isn't even spinning anymore. It's stunned silent.

Even though I can't think, I feel like I need to document what's going on because it's monumental. It's historic. It's horrifying.

My last post in November was about my relief (with a side of caution) after the election was called for Biden. It felt like the beginning of something better. And it has been. But the old evil isn't leaving easily.

I think it's hilarious that all the advice for improving life with fibromyalgia and anxiety is to reduce stress. Not in 2020 and so far, not in 2021. 

After living through almost a year of the COVID pandemic (I actually got my first vaccination last week because I work for a hospital) and then the Election from hell....now our current manbaby President decides to have a tantrum about losing and incites an insurrection. Of the Capitol. During the count of the Electoral Votes. Where five people DIED. 

January 6, 2021 will be added to our Days of Infamy in the United States. The day that the USA looked like a third world banana republic. Led by the world's stupidest orangutan.

Since I started this blog to talk about dealing with my health issues, I'll mention that I've been doing okay with my back pain since my rheumatologist was onboard with my pain med regime for exercise. That relieved a lot of worry on my part. I've been able to do everything I've needed for the holidays. 

The only problem now is my blood pressure. It got up to 170/110 on Christmas Eve and thoroughly freaked me out. I've been keeping an eye on it and it seems that when I do my VR meditation, it will drop like a rock. So I know how to deal with it...in normal times.

But this week takes the cake as far as blowing up my stress level. 45 revs his mob of cult supporters up into a frenzy and sicks them on the Capital building. There is no phalanx of SWAT team members circling the building like a BLM march. There is nothing. I watched in horror as thugs and crazies crawled up the side of the building, beat the Capitol police with American flags, drive our Congress and Vice President into hiding and desecrate offices of the some of the highest offices in our government. 

While the orange asshat did NOTHING. It's like watching your house burn down and the firemen have been told NOT to show up. 

I'm sure all the details will be in all the papers and news feeds and history books one day, so I won't bother to put it all down here....it's just so unbelievable that I think I need to see myself write it in black and white. 

I'm the only one in the house who is absorbed in this topic 24x7. My boys (18 and 16) are staying away from the topic pretty much and my husband gets an update once a day or so and then puts it on the back burner. I can't do that. I'm not obsessed...just on my toes.

It's become my porn...I watch it alone when I can and read the highlights to myself during the day. I'm so glad I have group support on social media because we all commiserate together. It is wonderful to be part of the groups that AREN'T the awful ones being taken off the sites. I've never wanted to be on Twitter too much because it was RULED by 45 and his minions, but now that they've FINALLY banned him, I'm on as much as I can to keep up with the investigation and arrests. I remember that it took decades to put Nixon behind us. This jerk will keep up busy for decades more. 

So my stress level is high, but it's different. I'm not terrified anymore. The tide has turned. 45 only has 9 days to be dangerous and he's being watched very carefully. Most of his staff has quit. Pelosi has made sure he can't launch the nukes. Everyone knows his dangerous cult is out there and about and we are all keeping away. The states and federal security forces are getting ready...although last time they were totally unprepared even though they had lots and lots of notice.

So I know things will keep going for a while. There will be more violence. But 45 has had his megaphone (social media) taken away, and that's why I can sleep at night. I'm actually pretty calm. The pendulum is swinging back the other way. Who knows how far it will swing the other way now? I can only hope that now this bigotry and hatred is out and online so we know who is to blame..and who not to trust. 

My family all talked for the first time about actually trying to move to Canada if the crazy wins here. It doesn't look like it will, but the surprise is that the teens are the ones who want to leave. They can't remember when the US wasn't crazy. They know enough to know it's not normal and I'm with them.

Tahiti, anyone?

Til next disaster ....

Oh yeah, someone carved "TRUMP" on a Manatee. So there's that. 

Dayum. Where's that Xanax.....