See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil

Sometimes, things are out of your control. For those of us who are self-proclaimed "control freaks," this is especially hard. I also think this is hard for mothers who usually step up to fix things. (No shade on fathers. They are great too, but moms tend to get in on the ground level, where things are pretty murky.) 

I was just telling my husband that I'm no longer a very good traveler. (Not that I ever was, but I do think I looked forward to getaways.) Now, I kinda dread traveling. I hate not having my space and my things. I hate having to bring modified versions of my things to create modified versions of my spaces. I like my life. It's comfy and cozy. 

All of that makes the fact that I suggested we travel this weekend all the more interesting. But, as my neighbor just said, Monday is a National Day of Mourning. Our country has lost its damn mind and I just wanted to get away and not see the pageantry of this shameful era. It was just four short years ago that the people that elected this next president stormed their way into the capital, causing injuries and death and horror. To watch them get their way is nauseating to me. 

So, I'm getting out of Dodge, as they say, and pretending that nothing is happening. For a bonus, I get to see our kid and his wife and her family. I'm hoping to stay in total ignorance. There's anger underneath my radio silence. At some point, I'll use it for good. Right now, I need to bury it and ignore the news. This I can control. 

In My Next Life

From time to time, I make a joke about what my "next life" will be. You know, the one that will happen after I die. This assumes, of course, that we are all reincarnated into a new person. I say things like: "In my next life, I will have a smoking hot body, but a lousy personality." 

This morning, I was thinking about the lives that other people lead. I thought of their homes and whether they were clean or dirty, organized or chaotic. There was no jealousy in my thoughts, simply wondering what it would be like to lead a different life. I like to think that my life is fairly well organized and not chaotic. I do not, however, have some of the things that chaotic lives entail - a large family, lots of pets, grandchildren, tons of friends, lots of socializing. 

My life is fairly small, but rich. I don't have a lot of friends. I'm friendly with a lot of people, but there are few that I would call close, although I do pride myself in being able to reach out to lots of different people, regardless of how close we are. This is a huge benefit of texting - sending a quick note to someone when you think of them. 

Anyway, my small life is kind of quiet. It's me, my husband and my dog, sprinkled with a nice dose of our kids and extended family. When I was younger, I envied so many peoples' lives. I spent too much time wishing I had their house or their bodies or their families. The green monster was large in me. What a stupid waste of time. 

I've been SO blessed, which, of course, makes me think of the worst case scenario: What if I lose all of this? I'm a bit of a doomsday prepper (not in that way) and I work pretty hard to avoid experiencing uncomfortable things. This, like envy, is a waste of time....except for one thing - appreciating the good while I have it. I'm trying to do this more often. I look at my dog, who I adore, and get sad thinking of life without her. But I know it'll happen...hopefully not for a long time. There's nothing I can do, except love and appreciate her while I have her. 

Worrywart

We try so hard not to turn into our parents. We see their flaws. We watch their mistakes. We roll our eyes at what they say and do. We swear we'll never be like them. And then one day, we turn around and we are them. 

My Mom was a Class A Expert Worrier. There wasn't an event or a person that she didn't lose sleep over. When she was in Assisted Living, they'd have field trips and she would decide, in advance, that she shouldn't go because either she couldn't get up into the tiny bus (they had a lift) or the tiny bus would break down and then what would she do? She'd worry that she'd become a burden to me. She'd worry that she shouldn't ask for help because that would bother someone. She once worried that Stephen Colbert would get in trouble for making fun of Donald Trump. 🤦

Well, here I am, 64 years old and, I too, am a Class A Expert Worrier. This week we're supposed to go on a mini getaway. We've planned this for a couple of months. But now I'm worried about being away from the dog because she's had some tummy troubles. I've literally lost sleep over this and already planned how I will send my husband without me. I've become such a worrier that I don't want to go anywhere. I only want to go places where I can control everything. 

Mom would be proud. 

NADA

I missed another day - oops. This daily writing thing is a challenge, which is odd, because you should hear what goes on in my brain during a typical day. No, none of it is Pulitzer-worthy. Mostly, it's just worrying and feeling bad, which is one of my superpowers. I guess it really doesn't matter because nobody is reading this. 

Life is weird right now. There are horrifying wildfires in California and we are about to inaugurate a truly terrible person to be president and that person, today, is going to be "sentenced" for being convicted of 34 felonies. (And by "sentence" I mean he's getting scolded and he will have zero consequences.) How did we get here? 

My friend just texted me and said that she needs to stop watching the news reports on the California fires because it's upsetting her. I said: YES, please stop watching. I have a hard time understanding why you would keep doing something that's making you really sad or anxious. I do a lot of things that aren't great for me, but when it comes to mental health, I am pretty good at disconnecting from things that make me upset.

That's all I've got today - a whole lotta nothing. 

Gone

This morning, I spoke to my friend Ann. She and her husband Jon live in Pacific Palisades, CA, an area currently being entirely wiped out by very unexpected fires. I texted her to find out if they were OK and she called me back. We usually just text each other back and forth. Not today. She called and started sobbing. The home that they lived in for 25+ years is likely gone. She said they were receiving messages from their alarm company that there was activity at their window and then activity inside the house...They realized quickly that the activity was the fire. 

I want to tell you about my friendship with Ann. She's one of the people that I met online. We followed each other on Twitter (back when it was a lovely community forum.) We instantly connected and eventually became real friends. And yes, we've met in person - three times! My daughter and I have had breakfast with her, she and Jon came to my son's play in LA and they also came to our house for dinner when they visited Wisconsin a couple of years ago. She's just a super genuine, intelligent and funny person that I adore. 

I've rarely felt this helpless. I told her that I don't have any adequate words to express my empathy. Yes, she and her husband are safe, but how do you start over after 25+ years? Where do you even begin? How do you have faith in the world? 

Say some prayers for the people of California tonight. Yes, there are celebrities that have lots of money and many homes, but there are also salt-of-the-earth people like Ann & Jon who are about to have the worst year of their life. 😔

*The photo above is from a video taken this afternoon in Ann & Jon's neighborhood. Their house, or what's left of it, is two blocks away. 

Good Thoughts Only

If you know me, you know that I despise Donald Tr*mp. I can't even type his full name. I hate everything about him and think he will, once again, be a terrible president. I even put some energy into working on Kamala's campaign by knocking on doors. I truly did my best, but we didn't win. For some incredibly sad reason, millions of Americans decided it was OK to elect a felon, racist, homophobe, xenophobe, sexual predator, narcissist...the list goes on and on.

Yesterday, January 6th, was a rough day, mostly because every single news outlet rehashed the events of January 6th 2021, a day that made me angrier than any other politically-related moment ever. It was a full-out attack on democracy and he-who-shall-not-be-named egged them all on and then called them heroes and hostages and will probably pardon a bunch of them. It takes a felon to pardon a felon. 

But that's not my point here. I HATE that he's going to be next president, but it's going to happen whether or not I whine and mope about it. Therefore, I've chosen NOT to doomscroll and dive into negative podcasts and news reports and tweets and Instagram posts. Unlike eight years ago, when I needed some affirmation that the world was batshit crazy, I just can't go there. I know it's crazy. And I'll do something about it at some point, just not today.

In the meantime, I'm doing anything and everything that is NOT negative energy. I'm watching great shows on TV. I'm going to see great movies. I'm discovering new music. I'm volunteering for various non-profits. I'm working out. I'm watching sports. I'm playing pickleball. I'm walking my dog. I'm trying to find reasons to laugh. 

I have to. Me, being miserable, helps nobody. I'm going out of my way to avoid being aware of our country being led by a lunatic. I even scheduled a mini vacation to Vegas on inauguration weekend. I'm hoping and praying that smarter, better and cooler heads will prevail in the long run. I know it'll be a shit show for a while, but I'll just be over here ignoring everything. 

Grudge Holding

I'm a bit of a grudge holder, especially when it comes to gift giving. I know, I know, I should give gifts and not expect anything in return, but I can't help myself. Let me be clear, I only expect a thank you, but if I don't get it...at least in person, or via text, I hold a grudge. 

There are two gifts I gave in the last couple of months - one a graduation gift and one a Christmas/thank you and goodbye - that I've heard nothing about. I should let it go. Both were money, but that seemed like the best choice for both people. 

If I'm being honest, here's what it is: I'm bothered when people don't act the way I would act. I would have at least sent a text or a thank you note. I'll move on, someday. But I can't help but think differently about those people. Sigh. 

Unfriend

When I first joined social media - Facebook, specifically - I made a mistake. I friended too many people. I was too excited and wanted to join in on the fun. Instead of letting it happen organically (is that even a thing on social media?), I jumped right into the rabbit hole of friend searching. Everyone was a possibility - grade school friends, high school friends, college friends, tennis friends, parents of my kids' friends. It worked for a while...until it didn't. Here's the funny thing about real life - it often doesn't translate to social media. People who might be polite in person, can be downright rude on social media. I blame the lack of writing skills. Let me stop here and say that I do NOT consider myself a good writer. I can confidently express myself and filter out the negative things that I really want to say. For others, that's a huge challenge. 

Here's why I call my "friending fest" a mistake: I no longer want to share things about my life with some of these people. As I've mentioned before, I believe that posting on social media, no matter the platform, is giving away a little bit of yourself. I do like to share experiences and random thoughts, which is why I'm active on social media. What bothers me is when I run into people with whom I've had zero interaction and they say something like: "Wow, you go out to eat A LOT." It's said in a judgmental tone...to which I take great offense. It implies they're living their life better than I am, which is not true. Have you ever gone out to eat? It's fantastic. You get a giant list of food which you can order. Somebody else cooks it, brings it to you and does the dishes. What could be better? 

Anyway, Facebook has this thing where if you look at it on a desktop, which I do every day, it tells you whose birthday it is. Often, I will see a name that I haven't seen, thought about or definitely spoken to in ages. And then I think: "Why am I Facebook friends with this person when we're not even friends in real life?" So sometimes, I do this really mean thing: I wish them a very happy birthday...and then I unfriend them. 😬 Maybe they love what I post on Facebook, but they never interact with me - online or in person. Why am I giving away pieces of me to this person who I barely know? I will also say that sometimes people reach out privately and tell me they like things that I post. That's really cool and I will almost never unfriend them because they've made the effort to interact. 

I have made some actual friends via social media - a couple of whom I've never met in person. But they interact with me regularly. I used to think it was weird and then I thought of pen pals, which used to be a thing when I was young. You got this name from somewhere - church or a magazine or...who knows. And you wrote this person letters and they wrote you back. Sometimes, you'd meet them in person. Anyway, I consider some of my "social media friends" as digital pen pals. 

I've decided I might become more aggressive about unfriending people. I'm a super sensitive person and I deserve the right to decide with whom I'll be friends - in person or online. 

FOMO, JOMO & Rotting

Young people are funny. Their expressions are funny and so are their acronyms. By now, we're all familiar with FOMO - the fear of missing out. Thanks to social media, it's quite prevalent these days. Everybody knows what everyone else is doing, whether or not they're together. In fact, FOMO has, unfortunately, led to a seriously high rate of depression in young people. Being young has always been hard. But it seems harder now when we are all spectators to each other's lives. Now you know when there's a gathering to which you're not invited. It used to be respectfully private. Sadly, that's no longer the case, unless someone possesses a decent enough amount of self-awareness to keep their get-together off the 'Gram. (Instagram, for those of you not up on the lingo.) 😉

There's an antonym for FOMO of which I'm a really big fan: JOMO, the joy of missing out. Have you ever RSVP'd yes to an invitation or an event and started really dreading it as it approached? In Wisconsin, this happens fairly often because when it's cold and dark out, the idea of dressing up and going outside can be daunting. Therefore, JOMO, which happens when you suddenly can't attend or something was blissfully canceled, can be pretty great. 

There is a tendency, to participate far too often in JOMO. You can get pretty good at turning down invitations and eventually, you won't receive very many. Like everything in life, JOMO should be used in moderation. I sometimes have to make plans or accept invitations even when I don't really feel like it. I rarely regret it because live lived in person, not online, is always better, even if not always prettier. 

And now for our final term - Rotting. We used to call this laying around or being lazy, or being a couch potato. It all means doing nothing of any great value. Like JOMO, it should be used in moderation, but often involves bingeing a TV show or reading a great book in one sitting. In my opinion (IMO), if you're reading a book, it's never bad or to be considered rotting. To me, reading is always a worthwhile endeavor.  However, I do appreciate that the term "rotting" implies something kind of gross, which might help people avoid it. 

*Yep, I missed a day - so sue me. 🤷

What Day Is It?

There's a lot of talk right now about how the time between Christmas and New Year's is a sort of calendar wasteland. Nobody knows what day it is and all motivation is gone and people sit around and, as the young kids say, rot. 

I will tell you that the early days of retirement are like this. Although I am only semi-retired, having started a part-time job about eight years ago, I realized that my days were anchored by my husband's job...from which he retired, eleven months ago. During the first few months of his retirement, I felt totally lost. It was like I had lost a limb. I floundered, for a long time. I've only recently started to get things back on track, mostly by scheduling things - volunteer gigs, walking the dog, lunch with friends, pickleball. 

Turns out, I love structure and retirement is the opposite of that. I guess I'm just not cut out to be fully retired. Being an old person is really going to suck. 

Hi. It's Me Again

It's New Year's Day - January 1st, 2025. Some people create New Year's resolutions. I never do, mostly because I don't need another reason to think poorly of myself. I'm bad at a lot of things, but I'm very good at self-criticism and loathing. It's a bad habit - perhaps the worst of all of my bad habits. 

But I've notice some people creating wish lists or bingo cards of things they want to do in the coming year. It's sort of inspired me to create a goal. It can't be impossible like "eat healthy." Ugh, the worst. Or "exercise more." Boring. I'll work on those things without having to "be accountable" which is a buzz phrase that I dislike. 

Here's mine: I'm going to write every day. I used to write a lot. This is one of several blogs I've started and just left hanging with no end in sight. So, I'm going to pop in here daily (fingers crossed) and write some things. I realized recently that I've missed writing. I used to write great posts on social media but haven't been inspired in a long, long time. Lots of reasons - life, in general - which, if I'm being honest, is not really that challenging. But also social media has changed. It used to be that if you post something everyone would see it. But now the ALGORITHM runs everything and not everybody sees everything and so posts don't get the engagements they used to get. 

Anyway, I have lots of feelings and have had occasional thoughts about social media posts related to those feelings. 2024 was a year of change and self-reflection. I went through some health things - threw out my back, breast biopsy, rotator cuff tendinitis, PT, PT and more PT, two skin cancer removal procedures. The list is long and boring. I'm quite blessed to, mostly, be OK. Who knows what 2025 will throw at me. Hopefully it'll be blissfully boring. 

But what those health challenges made me do was wear sunscreen and reevaluate friendships. I found that people with whom I thought I was close didn't really care much for me....or, at least, didn't put forth the effort. I've never been good at goodbyes and I started to realize that there are some friendships that are basically over and it's time I moved on. We recently decided to leave our tennis club after 19+ years. We realized that we were spending a LOT of money every month and not socializing, dining or swimming at the club. We basically had no friends there - just friendly acquaintances. I'm guessing that we won't be missed. We did join a new club and early on, the people were very friendly and welcoming. I hope that continues but I still got VERY nervous to do my first activity there. Turns out that middle school angst never really goes away. 

Back to those lapsed friendships: If I'm being honest again, some of them might be because I called some people out in a social media post, post-election, for voting for a terrible person. I don't regret that, but it certainly did sort out the "chaff" from my friend list. Then again, I was overly enthusiastic about "friending" people in the early days of social media which sometimes comes back to haunt me. I'll share a secret here that nobody will see because nobody reads this blog: Every day Facebook tells me whose birthday it is. Often, it's someone with whom I have zero connection. I never see them, we aren't real life friends and they never comment on my posts. So, I've started to wish them Happy Birthday and then unfriend them. Is that mean? I don't care. Time to move forward and not look back. 

I have a theory: Posting on social media is like giving away a little piece of yourself. I love sharing on social media but I'm VERY cautious about it. I believe that you should be careful what you post and with whom you share it and, if it's not treated with respect, disconnect from those people. It's what you'd do in real life, right? 

Well, that's all for today. Wow, this was really cathartic. If you actually find this, hello. 👋 

Happy 36th Birthday, Andrew!

This is our oldest son, Andrew. Today would have been his 36th birthday. He was our first child. Just like many young adults, we were “kinda” prepared to become parents. I was 26, Tom was 27. We had been married almost three years. We had our own home, good jobs, baby clothes, a dog-eared copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” (this was pre-internet) a nursery full of baby furniture and families that were very excited for us. My pregnancy was unremarkable. But nobody is ever prepared to become the parents of a severely developmentally disabled child. 

You know that part in the wedding vows where they ask the couple if they will be there for each other in sickness and in health? Usually, people think this refers to the couple themselves, and often it does. But sometimes it means the health of your parents or siblings or...children. And, whoa, we were completely blindsided by the birth and tragedy of our first child. 

Thinking back, the fact that our marriage survived is nothing short of a miracle. Out of a soul-crushing event came the realization that our relationship was rock solid and built to last. We’ve been married nearly 39 years and I’m constantly reassured by that fact which is so important. 

But this post is about Andrew, not us. He was a beautiful child that was only with us for 20 years. Our lives, and the lives of our other children, are better for having known him. Being Andrew’s mom was the honor of my life and I wouldn’t change anything that happened. The older you get, you realize that your journey, as bumpy as it is, forms you into the human being you are today. Thank you, Andrew, for being part of our story and thank you for watching over us and your siblings every single day. We love you forever. 

Note: If you've never heard Andrew's story, you can read about it here or here and you can watch this video featuring music performed by Andrew's brother and sister: 

Patience, Perseverance and Acceptance

Every year I write something for my oldest son’s birthday. Today, November 18^th, Andrew would have been 34 years old. Trust me when I say that I’ve written everything possible. I’ve written this and this and this and you can watch this. And my beautiful daughter has written these. 

 

This year, I want to talk about the limits of medicine and how, despite our many advances in healthcare and obstetrics, sh*t still happens. Somehow, in this year of a major worldwide healthcare crisis, this seems relevant.

 

A couple weeks before Andrew was born, a friend’s sister had a stillbirth. I remember thinking she must have done something wrong or have had less than great medical care. Neither was true. I was 26 years old and hadn’t yet experienced a lifetime of understanding that, sometimes, the worst can happen to the best people – DESPITE doing everything right and getting the best care possible. 

 

If you know Andrew’s story, you know that my pregnancy was “unremarkable.” I was very healthy and so was he. In 1986, you didn’t have ultrasounds unless you had a high-risk pregnancy, which I didn’t. (I will tell you that had they done an ultrasound before Andrew was born, they might have seen the “vesa previa” that ruptured when labor started, thereby saving his life. But it truly wasn’t called for.) 

 

Still, we can’t rewrite history. We can only learn from it. What I know, 34 years later, is that being Andrew’s mom was something that changed me and my family forever. Even though they weren’t born, it changed my younger children. To this day, they have a more mature and compassionate view of life than some of their peers. I also know that I wouldn’t trade the lessons we learned or the love and grief that we experienced for anything in the world. It’s part of our story, forever etched on our hearts. 

 

But back to the medicine. I remember after Andrew was born, it seemed that some of the hospital personnel were holding their breath waiting to see if we were going to pursue a malpractice suit. After all, a baby was permanently brain damaged beyond comprehension. But Tom and I never considered it because, at that time, it wasn't preventable. When you’re in the midst of a crisis like this, you make decisions from your gut. We looked every OB/GYN and Neonatologist and NICU Nurse in the eyes and knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they did the best they could and wanted anything but the outcome we had. The best we could do was draw from their experiences and try to give Andrew the best life possible. That’s when the decisions got really hard. I mean gut-wrenching hard. 

 

Looking back, there seemed to be a cloud of grace hanging over us. Family flocked to our side to lift us up and support us. Caregivers made sure to tell us how beautiful Andrew was despite how seriously brain-damaged he was. Even clergy tried their best to give us answers that we wanted to hear. (Hindsight is 20/20 and these were probably the least helpful in the long run, but they tried.) 

 

I guess my point is to say that we are all humans – all of us – moms, dads, doctors, nurses, scientists. We only know what we know. We can be confident and informed and make choices based on lots of research. (And let me stress that this is how decisions SHOULD be made – with LOTS of research.) 

 

But sometimes, we have very little control over situations that, for most people, are very ordinary. Sometimes, extraordinary things happen – bad things – for no damn good reason. I’m pretty sure everyone who has been through a cancer diagnosis can attest to this. You can certainly spend time asking “why me?” But you quickly learn that that does nothing. You still have to move forward. I guess if you’re a person of faith, you can say “everything happens for a reason.” I’ll tell you a secret – I don’t believe that. I don’t. I don’t believe God gives people death or torture or cancer or brain-damaged babies for a “reason.” I’m not letting him off the hook. I’m just saying it’s not that simple. 

 

We Americans like to think we have control over everything in our lives. There’s nothing more humbling and eye-opening than having that control ripped away. We recently got a puppy and any control we had over our empty nest was ceded to this adorable, furry, sometimes infuriating little creature. At first, I fought it and decided I’d train the dog to be PERFECT. I quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen. Once I relaxed and tried to “make the best of the mess,” things got a little better. 

 

Of course, I’m not comparing parenting a severely developmentally disabled child to “parenting” a puppy, but the unexpected chaos and life disruption is not without its similarities. Suffice it to say that life throws you curveballs, some of which are beyond unexpected. In a year in which everything is chaos and disruption and normality has been ripped away, I’m trying to use the lessons that parenting Andrew taught me – patience, perseverance and acceptance. For all of these lessons, I’m eternally grateful. 

The Interpreter of Perceived Slights

 

 

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking. Someone smarter than I, of which there are many, would have come up with something useful from all this thinking – a Covid vaccine, a cure for world hunger, a way to filter out fake news – but that is not what I do with my thinking time. 

 

No, my friends, what I do is wake up insanely worried and think of all the ways that my feelings are hurt. Yep, total waste of time. I rerun scenarios through my head where a friend didn’t say hello and I assume it’s my fault. I think about how I’m always the one reaching out to a friend and immediately assume my overtures might be unwelcome. And, worst of all, I overthink any and all social media comment interactions and responses. It’s a torturous game, especially at 4:20 am when I can’t turn my brain off. 

 

I have always been a worrier and my guilt response is strong. So strong that I often joke about titling my memoir: “I Feel Bad About Everything.” The only person that feels worse about everything is my Mom, so you know that it’s genetic. 

 

We’re living in an incredibly divisive time. I’m sure I’m not the only one weighing and measuring social media interactions. And, to be honest, I’m doing a bit of judging, which is never good. 

 

I realize that the core of all of this is social media. For all the good that it CAN do – reuniting old friends, allowing friends all around the world to stay easily connected, creating a groundswell of support for good causes – it can also be absolutely the WORST. I have friends, SMART friends who have tried social media and immediately realized that they couldn’t handle it. One of my very best friends said: “I constantly felt like my life fell short of everyone else’s life.” This friend is an amazing person with SO many friends. If she felt like that, imagine how those of us with smaller social circles are feeling. 

 

I know the answer here is less social media. (Yes, I’m addicted. Yes, I should quit. No, I problably won’t.) 

 

So here’s my action plan: 1) Cut back on social media. 2) Assume everyone’s intentions are good. 3) Mind my own damn business. 

 

We’ll see how it goes. 

Why I'm Voting for Joe

Very shortly, many of us will receive our mail-in ballots for the November election. Today, I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m going to tell you why I’m voting for Joe Biden and I’m going to ask and beg and plead for you to do the same. Yes, I am totally violating my own “no politics” rule on social media. (Yes, I’ve posted on social justice issues, but almost never on politics.) 

 

I believe voting is a deeply personal right and privilege, so I’ve never asked someone who they are voting for. I also don’t believe in shaming people for who they vote for. (And please do not do that in the comments. Not cool.) 

 

 For all of my adult life, I’ve voted Republican. I did so until 2016. In 2016, everything changed – the candidates, the landscape, our tolerance for intolerable behavior…the list goes on and on. It was brutal and, unfortunately, it still is. I think you’ll agree that we live in a deeply divided nation. 

 

I’m voting for Joe Biden because I’m hoping for a return to respectability, truth, the common good and decency. I’m hoping that the office of the president will no longer be used as a prop to stage political conventions. I’m hoping that name-calling and middle-of-the-night tweets announcing policy changes will go away. We need structure and accountability. We need an administration that cares about people from all races, backgrounds, sexual orientations, political affiliations, religions (or lack thereof) and income levels. We need someone that knows that diversity – in our boardrooms and our government - is of the utmost importance. We need someone who believes that science is absolutely imperative and if we don’t listen to scientists, our world and our children’s future is in grave danger. 

 

I believe that Joe Biden will stop sending mixed and conflicting messages about the Coronavirus pandemic. He will gather true experts to help us heal, do what’s needed and move on. 

 

I’m hoping that we will once again have someone who is a president for ALL the people, not just those that attend rallies and deify him or her. We need someone that will reach across the aisle and bring our elected leaders together to stop lobbing insults and start creating legislation for all of us. 

 

I also think the fact that Joe chose, as a running mate, a woman of color is incredibly important. That sets a groundbreaking precedent and example for young girls who dream of being leaders. Shouldn’t our government look more like our country does? 

 

Is Joe Biden a perfect candidate? No. NOBODY IS. But I feel strongly that he’s the type of person that would sit down with someone and actually LISTEN to their opinions, even if they disagree with him. That’s what we need more of than anything right now. 

 

Oh and if you’ve been getting those postcards that say that he and Kamala Harris are socialists, that’s a lie. It’s NOT true. He’s also not going to defund the police or take your guns away. He’s not. 

 

Look, I’m WAY out over my skis here. So far out, I may regret this and end up being the social media version of the guy in the Wide World of Sports intro. (Young kids, you’ll have to look that up.) In my everyday life, I avoid conflict at all costs. Maybe it doesn’t seem like it here, but I’m incredibly sensitive to criticism and spend way too many late nights worrying about social media interactions. 

 

But there’s SO much at stake here. Our country needs healing, and I think a Joe Biden/Kamala Harris  administration can do that…or at least start. Thanks for reading. Please be kind to each other. 

Pandemic Spleen Vent

I’m mad….and I’m sad. I’m frustrated…and I’m confused. As difficult as I thought this pandemic would be, I had no idea that the really hard part, for me, would be right now when we could safely leave our homes and are merely asked to wear face masks when we are in public spaces with other people. Shouldn’t this be easier? I long for that time, months ago, when we all couldn’t wait to freely go outside. Now we can, mostly, but why am I struggling? 

If I’m honest with myself, I feel like a bratty younger sister. I’m mad at people for not doing their part or not following the rules, even though the rules are mostly guidelines which most people are barely following. 

To me, the guidelines seem pretty clear: Social distance (six feet) from those with whom are not in your household. Wear a mask when you enter any indoor spaces other than your home. Wear a mask outdoors when you’ll be within six feet of those not from your household. No hugging. Wash your hands.

Yet every day, I open up social media and I see friends and kids of friends with their arms around people not from their household. Or I see friends at a wedding. Or I see families and friends on vacation. Everyone hugging and hanging out close and sharing it all on social media. I need to stop looking because it makes me angry. I can’t help myself. If I'm honest, I'm jealous. I crave that kind of companionship but, other than my Mom, I don't have family in town.

It feels like everyone’s been given a different set of guidelines – like some people were told “go ahead and hang out with all your friends, as long as you’re outside.” Or "You'll be fine. Even if you get the virus, it's no big deal." Nobody’s perfect, but it also seems like nobody’s making an effort. 

It also feels like people just grew tired and bored. As if, in their minds, they’re saying: “This is just taking too long. I’m tired of dealing with this.” 

I completely understand that parents would REALLY like it if their kids could go back to school. But how safe is it? Every child comes from a different household. I’m frightened for the kids and especially for the teachers and staff. And some people don’t want the kids to have to wear masks. Further confusion. Look, I haven't sent my kids to school in a LONG time and I've never sent kids to school during a pandemic. It's got to be an excruciating decision. I also understand that working parents absolutely need some time and space to focus on their jobs. I'm not downplaying that at all. I fully support parents' wanting to get back to some sense of normalcy. But it currently feels like we're in a room in which everyone is shouting at each other and nobody is listening. Everyone feels they are right or they have the right...to do what they want...with no regard for others. 

What makes me the saddest is that I had high hopes that our dealing with this virus would be the moment that divided America came together to do our best and stop the spread of this vicious disease. (It is NOT just the flu.) And at first, that seemed possible. And then people started demonstrating for restrictions to be lifted…and they were. Yet the moment they were lifted, it seemed like everyone thought it was all over. In some areas, there’s complete denial that we are still in a global pandemic. 

I’m not a scientist, but we didn't shut down the country on a whim. Cases are spiking. EVERYONE’S actions have a domino effect. This is especially true because COVID can be spread by asymptomatic people. So, it’s a source of great frustration that people can’t be bothered to do the very least (wear a mask) in an effort to save the health and/or lives of those most vulnerable. How selfish are we?! 

I’m not going to complain about my own situation. I have a more than comfortable home and nobody in our household has lost their job. I’ll do this for the long haul if it’ll help others. 

But it’s incredibly hard to do this for the long haul when so many people don’t seem to care or be willing to do their part. 

I’m really struggling right now. I haven’t seen my kids in nearly seven months and it’s weighing heavily on me. I worry about them every single day even though I know that they are doing everything in their power to stay safe. My Mom’s mental health is barely hanging on by a thread. She gets more confused by the day. The longer this goes on, the more she slips away. 

Can’t we all just come together and just stop this thing in its tracks? If we all stepped outside our personal bubbles and thought of other people, it could make a huge difference.

Also, may I suggest that everyone think before they post a photo on social media. What you do and what you're seen doing influences other people. Let's be the leaders we need right now.

Sorry. Rant over. 

Helpless

I no longer pray. I beg, I plead, I implore.

I ask for relief for my friend and a friend’s mom - the two people I check on every day.

I envision their lungs filling with clean air, dispelling the Covid out. 

I feel somewhat hypocritical with my missives, but I promised…because it’s all I can offer. 

As this plague rages on, I’m finding myself questioning my faith. 

And yet I do exactly what I promise – I pray…and I beg, plead and implore.

I wish I could be that person, certain in resolution and cure and reason. 

Instead I think:  What kind of god would do this to its people? What kind of god separates people from their loved ones who are dying?

I dismiss suggestions that Mother Nature needed a break, that we needed time together, that we needed to appreciate more. 

I find it impossible to believe that a virus has a lesson to teach us all. 

Thinking about the future is too scary for me. My regular M.O. is worst case scenario, assuming if I think it, it won’t happen. 

But what if it does?

I place myself in a bubble of ignorance. Unlike many, I do not watch the news. I know it will find me when I need it. 

I realize that this bubble is filled with privilege. I have food. I have health. I do not have to work on the front lines. 

I try to remind myself daily that so many are denied that privilege. 

I think about those on the front lines – the doctors, nurses, first responders, retail workers, sanitation workers…the people that don’t get to “stay safe at home.” 

And then I think about the other front lines – the families of those suffering, not able to be with their loved ones or able to be comforted.

It becomes clear that we Americans were arrogant in our belief that we could control and prevent everything. 

Perhaps that is the lesson to be learned. There are no borders. We can’t keep anything or anyone out, no much how much it or they are feared. 

In the meantime, I’ll keep begging and pleading and imploring…and hoping. 

The Ending of Friendships

I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately.

Lifetime friends, mostly.

I have a few. I feel blessed. But there are a few that, long ago, were close to me and no longer are. In fact two were in my wedding party. Last week, I sent an email to wish one of them happy birthday and my email was returned because the email address was disabled. Honestly, it was kind a kick in the gut. I knew our friendship had fallen away but this seemed like a death knell.

I blame myself. (Full disclosure, I blame myself for almost everything.) I wasn't a great friend during the year that I was engaged. I guess that stuck with her...forever. I'm sad, because I like her as a person. She's smart and interesting. I did see her since our wedding and spent a lovely day reconnecting with her and her family in California. I can't help but feel really, really hurt. Part of me wants to reach out and apologize and say: "Please take me back. I promise I've improved."

But part of me is also pissed. Because as a wise person once said: "We are never as bad as the worst thing we've ever done." I was a complete moron when I was a young adult. But I wasn't the only complete moron young adult. And perhaps I should think that maybe this person isn't as great of a friend as I thought she was. Why can't she accept my flaws?

The answer is that as you get older, through circumstance or choice, you may add and subtract friends from your life. Life gets complicated. You grow out of some friends and grow into some others. Sometimes it's just people that connect with you because of what you're going through at the time.

I think the real problem is that I have a very hard time saying goodbye. I do not like the finality of things. I hate the end of vacations. I hate the end of events. There is something about endings that is really rough on my psyche. Maybe I need to learn to accept endings. Or maybe I need to look forward to new beginnings. I'm honestly not sure.

60 Things

On January 15th, I woke up and realized that it was exactly nine months until I turned 60 years old. That was a sobering thought. I've never spent much time anguishing over getting older. I don't color my hair. I actually look forward to turning completely grey, instead of the grey highlights I currently have. I pride myself on understanding social media, something that most people my age seem confused by. I like to know what young people think and do, even if I don't embrace it myself.

But 60. Woo. That seems irreversible. And it is. I get it. But I refuse to spend my "twilight years" being a sad sack.

So I started thinking about the fact that in nine months, a mother "grows" an entire human being in her womb. What could I do in nine months before I fell off the cliff of youth?

So I made a list of 60 things. Truth be told, I'm still compiling the list. Apparently, it's harder than it seems to come up with a list of 60 things to do before I turn 60. This isn't like a grocery list or a list of things to pick up in Target. (Side note: I could more easily purchase 60 things at Target than I could create a list of meaningful accomplishments.) Today, on March 1st, I'm at 51, which actually isn't bad. Just nine more to go. I'll do it because, stupidly, I blabbed about doing this on social media. I do that sometimes when I get all warm and fuzzy about sharing too much.

The list is quirky and weird and very few people will ever see the entire list. Some things on the list are like tasks or errands - cleaning this and calling that person or going to see that thing. Some are about learning something WAY outside my comfort and skill zone. The hardest one is absolutely the dumbest thing I will ever do. It's not dangerous, except to my ego. And I will try like hell to get it over with because then everything else on the list will seem like a piece of cake.

But actually, the truly most difficult thing on my list of 60 Things is something I added this morning: "Be kinder to yourself in regards to how you think about the way you look." I added this because a few months ago, I realized that EVERY time I looked in the mirror, I judged myself. It's so subtle and so insidious that it never occurred to me that it might be a bad thing that every morning I subconsciously said things in my head, like: "I hate that double chin." "I hope nobody notices the rolls of fat around my bra line." "I wish I had eyebrows." "I wish I were thin."

You see, it's so common that I never notice it. But friends, I will tell you that saying these things to yourself, even if you don't say them out loud, will eventually chip away at your self-esteem. You will begin to believe your badness...and not in a good way.

So today, I read this article and I've never felt more seen. I've spent a lifetime feeling overweight and less than worthy. I've been told "You'd be pretty if you lost weight." I've been taught to believe that because I don't fit in tiny clothes, I'm not worthy of love or admiration from other people or, worst of all, myself. My daily berations are taking their toll and I must stop.

So, today, I will look in the mirror and say something kind. I will do this every day until it becomes a habit. I've gotta learn to love me with all my flaws and imperfections and fat rolls. I must because if I don't love myself, who is going to love me?

Move It or Lose It

I've been thinking a lot about aging lately. And to put a punctuation mark on this thought process, I tweaked my back yesterday. I wasn't doing anything particularly strenuous. I was playing tennis (doubles) as I do every Monday morning. One minute I'm running around the court, the next, walking kinda hurts and I desperately want to walk hunched over.

I pushed through the discomfort and made it through my day. But, honestly, I was kinda pissed. Although I'm not exactly "in shape," I feel like I exercise more than the average American. (Of course I'm fully aware of the fact that the average American is pathetic in movement goals when compared to the rest of the world.) Nevertheless, my slowly aging body betrayed me yesterday. I'll be fine, but it certainly was a warning shot over the bow of my creaking ship.

So as I was laying on the massage therapist's table today, I thought about the articles I read and videos I watched yesterday. Yesterday was the 75th Anniversary of the Liberation of Auschwitz. There was a march in which survivors gathered at the wall in the prison camp - the same wall where countless people were executed by the Nazis. They gathered at this wall and then marched, arm-in-arm, away from the camp. They did this as a remembrance of the atrocities that happened so long ago and also as a warning to all countries today - do NOT let this happen again.

Don't worry, this isn't a political post, although I will ask people not to vote for or re-elect those whose hate-filled rhetoric emboldens those that want to divide us and segregate us and drive out those that are different. Don't do that. That's not political. That's merely humane.

Nevertheless, I thought about the concentration camp survivors who are now in their 80s and 90s. They suffered so much physical and mental trauma when imprisoned by the Nazis. They were starved and beaten and tortured and yet, somehow, many were able to show up at Auschwitz and march. Honestly, I can't believe they survived this long. It's a testament to the strength of the human spirit. I'm humbled by what they've been through and how they keep going.

Then I thought about my 88 year-old Mom. Seven years ago, when we moved my parents in with us due to failing health and other circumstances, Mom was the healthier parent. Although she was legally blind, she walked unaided and moved around pretty well.

Today, Mom uses a walker and struggles to even move across her tiny apartment. She has a permanently dislocated shoulder, an unstable knee that should be replaced but can't be (because of her age) and macular degeneration. She's a shadow of herself.

I've long thought that one of the reasons that Mom stayed in relatively good shape was because she did everything for my Dad - she cooked, she did laundry, she looked after him. Once Dad passed away, she lost her purpose. Is losing your purpose a major blow to self-preservation?

But I also couldn't help but wonder if Mom's deterioration is a result of taking away her independence and virtually forcing her to rely on help for nearly every task. I know that she's in assisted living because she definitely needs help. But do these circumstances for her and so many other elderly actually hurt more than help? And how can we make sure our parents are safe, but also promote independence and continued movement and self-care?

The other day, I was at Mom's and walked down the hall past the Friday morning exercise class. On Fridays, Ron runs the class. Ron seems like a very fit man, likely in his late 60s or early 70s who wants everyone to move more, no matter their age. That's great and Mom did try Ron's class...once. At that class, a few minutes in, Ron told everyone to sit down on the floor. (Mom didn't, thank God.) Everyone looked at him and asked: "How do we get up from the floor?" Ron hadn't really thought of that. Last Friday, Ron was energetically instructing people to kick their legs diagonally across their bodies. He casually said "don't fall down" and nearly instantly, I heard a crash. Someone had fallen down. I guess the person was OK, but I kinda think Ron needs to be supervised. Mom refuses to return to his class...thank God.

In any case, I realize that I've raised more questions than I've made suggestions or supplied answers. This should not be surprising as I mostly have no idea what I'm doing.

But I do think that the old adage "Move It or Lose It" has some merit. Whatever keeps us going, we need to get up and move, especially when we don't feel like it. Sure, we might tweak our backs or our knees or some other strange malady my befall us, but I guess we're still better off taking the risk.