shake off the dust

well. it's been a minute since i've been to this particular corner of the internet. may of 2022 to be exact.

i had to look back through my iphone photo gallery to even remember may of 2022. for the record, that was a particularly rough part of the mullet phase. if i ever have to remember anything before either my iphone photo gallery or my facebook galley, lord help me. if it existed before facebook, did it even really exist?

this week is a local literature event. i convinced myself to take a day off to attend some of the writing workshops and events and whatnot. maybe even the book fair...if i leave my debit card at home.

time to crack the old knuckles (no, really, they're old. they hurt. they need cracked to function) and attempt to regain any remnants of any literary prowess i ever flailingly attempted to claim.

occasional bolts of singularity strike in a time and space where i can manage to scratch them down on paper or make a note in my phone only to be forgotten and lost to the realm of...did i think that or was it something i heard once?

the occasional cheeky phrase or pensive though cracks the surface. not nearly enough to string together in any attempt at publication to date.

missives such as:

"i am wholly convinced that my words would be of offense to those that know me and completely inconsequential to strangers. but to truly speak my mind would result in a hold of the medical kind versus that of compassion."

"a superior inferiority complex freezes my pen, both convinced and terrified, equally, of success."

brief snatches of character descriptions: "i have never seen hair that so desperately wanted to be somewhere else."

brief  plot points: "this is the kind of night memories are made of. those bright vibrant flashes of experience to look back on. the "i can't believe we did that," the "do you remember that time..." the "whatever happened to..." glimpses of future changing history. when, ten years hence, you sit up all night remembering, closing loops, retrospecting and reliving."

rare moments of truth: 

if i ever sat down to think about all the things that make me sad in my life, i don't think i could ever get up again.

so i set them aside and keep moving. it may make me cold and heartless, but it's required to survive.

instead of allowing them to swallow me whole, i cover them up.

with tattoos. with inappropriate jokes. with distance. with a callous attitude and a plethora of dirty words. i distract myself with netflix and fall asleep with the noise on to block the sounds in my head.

i don't invest in relationships, as much as i want to, because no one sticks around during the hard stuff  and what is life besides a string of hard stuff?

bizarre to think that last one was from the great before. june of 2017. before the last child left. before the world changed. before so many things. before so many more hard things.

moments on moments, nothing coherent or cohesive or concise enough to send out into the world.

even moments that explain my absence:

"what's even the point of writing? a blog? screaming into the void in a random corner of the internet? nothing important. nothing impactful. nothing lasting or virtuous or inspiring or enlightening. just drivel. whining. lessons from the universe the basic toddler had a full grasp on before even understanding words. maybe it's best to just keep NOT writing. what is it they say? don't contribute to the conversation if you can't improve it? and holy roller skating jesus knows i'm not improving it."

whew. no one can ever be as mean to you as you are to yourself. i had a friend call me on that the other day. she said "you know, if i heard anyone else say the things about you that you say about yourself, we'd have issues."

but. here i am. again. shaking the dust off. returning to the thing that bites and scratches and draws blood from the inside. like a siren song, the words call out. to write. to be written.

maybe this weekend will relight the flame. incite a riot of thought. reignite the passion literally carved into my skin.

i don't know what i want to write, but the last few years of relative silence have built up a flood of words behind a damn of isolation. i need to say things. i need to get the thoughts out of my head. i need to stop worrying about who or if will read. stop dreading criticism and rebuttal. stop dismissing and doubting before the ink even has a chance to stain the parchment. write first, reflect later.

so. here is to a return. not grand, by any means. but a return none the less. perhaps even more the less. a few words. a few sentences. a few thoughts. less is at least some. and some is more than none. 

worst case scenario game

 one of the best and worst parts of having a writer's brain is the creativity. the imagination. the ability to think of 100 different scenarios and possibilities.

when you're trying to problem solve or trying to find the right words or having a discussion with someone, the ability to see a thousand different possibilities is an amazing thing.

when you're alone, and left to your own devices, however, as with any gift, it can turn into a curse.

there's things in life i'll never have the answers to. dates who have never showed up. people who made vicious comments out of nowhere. communications that have ended without resolution.

when you can think of a million different reasons and plot lines and scenarios, your ability to think of all think of all those possibilities quickly becomes...it's worst case scenario game lightning round.

it's been 10 years since my dad died. national news level died. there were a lot of questions and investigations and a gag order on the case and then it just...went away.

i never found out what happened.

there were so many questions, so many theories, so many different ideas- was it gang activity? was it something related to the governor? was it something to do with the union? was it the guy that had threatened to kill me after he was deported following a traffic stop? was it an accident? was it intentional? what started the fire? how did all three NOT make it out? medical reports didn't match what people were saying. timelines didn't match up.

maybe they all did in the end. maybe there was a completely basic boring answer in a report no one bothered to tell me about. i'll never know.

and when you have a brain like mine, that's hard. it's been a lot of work to not become obsessed or turn into a gerard butler movie.

 

 

 

 

i had to come terms pretty quickly. i didn't have the time or energy to be curious or worry about getting a real answer. i had kids to raise. i had to make sure there were groceries and sports equipment and a "normal life" after a year long campaign of trauma.

it was a LOT dealing with so much death in such a short time. 

suddenly, here i am 10 years later. 

i think the biggest lesson i'm still learning is how to wrangle that worst case scenario mindset.

yes, the ability to create a all the different possibilities and options and choose your own adventure avenues is amazing.

but of all those scenarios and options and paths my mind has wandered down about my personal life, what's going to happen, all the time and energy i've spent worrying and letting anxiety wreak havoc in my mind, NONE. absolutely NONE of them have been true or real. i could have never thought up the path my life has taken in the last 10 years.

i've spent so many hours. SO MANY HOURS. so much energy. so much time worrying. playing the worst case scenario game. 

and i have had so many completely different absolute worst case scenarios happen anyway.

all the worrying and imagining did was take away the energy for when i actually needed it. i was so exhausted worrying about what was going to happen that when something DID happen i was already drained.

this year in particular i think has been a little bit of that for everyone. the news stories are so outrageous and world events are things writers all over are laughing because they know their script or plot with any one of these events would have been rejected as "unbelievable."

i didn't expect to be fired in the middle of a global pandemic for standing up for mental health care because 5+ months of self-isolation mixed with nationwide social unrest due to police brutality led to massive widespread brutality and the government is being dismantled right in front of us and there's not a damn thing any of us can do about it for MONTHS and we just have to...yeah...you get the point.

that is not even a possibility i could have dreamed up 6 months ago.

and yet, here i am, one week in to being unemployed.

i am terrified.

my brain has moments of not being my friend right now.

that worst case scenario lightening round is right there. i've spiraled a few times already.

it's a real quick trip some really, really dark places.

when you start wondering if it would really be so bad to hope maybe you're one of the bad/quick virus cases...it's time to take a moment and step back a little bit.

i'm learning to not listen to that option. that's all it is, one of the thousands of options.

and just as quickly as i can spiral in the positive direction, maybe i'll find a million dollars on the street tomorrow...

but that's wasted energy too.

i'm learning to just take a breath, and do what i can right now.

 

right now i can apply for jobs. right now i can follow up on financial aid paperwork. right now i can have a dance party in my livingroom. right now i can practice yoga and meditation and work on helping my brain be kinder and not do those exhaustive spirals in either direction.

 

i can channel that energy into writing. into creating, but i need to stop letting that energy run me down and dominate my thinking.

funny how it keeps coming back to writing. it always does. you'd think after 40 years on this earth i'd quit fighting the thing that has been a part of me since the beginning. 

BUT, my extremely slow learning curve aside, the point is that i am learning. i am recognizing behaviors that don't work for me anymore. i'm working on changing them.

it's hard. that anxiety spiral is right there. a six shooter on each hip of terrible things, locked, loaded, always ready to go. 

well, isn't that a particularly interesting analogy for someone who does not like guns, at all.

the thing that is the worst for me, my most dangerous behavior, i just compared to an object i strongly regard as dangerous and deadly.

i'm sure a shrink would have a field day with that.

i think it's time to retire from the worst case scenario game, at least personally.

how long have i been saying i'm tired y'all? 

maybe it's time to stop exhausting myself.

maybe it's time to just focus on today. today i can do what i need to do and that is enough.

if you build it...

so.

the world is trash and i hate everything.

but.

the world does keep turning and the sun does keep fucking appearing every morning, so i guess i need to knock the dirt off my boots and just keep fucking going.

so. fine. you fucking win universe.

i'll actually do the thing that i know i'm supposed to do when everything turns to shit: i'll fucking write.

FINE.

i'm so fucking annoyed right now.

fine. i'll do the thing that helps. 

AND WHEN IT WORKS AND IT DOES HELP...

what?

i'll be better?

YEAH. I GET IT.

fine.

i'll fucking write.

so.

the world is shit and i hate everything, and when that happens i like to dream about a better place. shocking, earth shattering information right there.

i'm sure i'm absoluely the only person that does that.

for, well, forever, my dream place has been a little single wide trailer on a little piece of land.

i'm still mad i passed up the opportunity to buy a trailer and a 1/4 plot for $2000 back in 1998 because my mom convinced me it was trashy.

damnit.

i dream about it all the time. a little air stream, a little singlewide. just a little place on a little piece of land. that's it.

having kids, it was never practical. we had to be in town near schools so they could walk home or to daycare while i was at work.

we had THE BEST set up for years when we first moved to spokane- school was 4 blocks one direction, daycare was 4 blocks beyond that, work was less than a mile the other direction and the grocery store was only two blocks past work. it was a DREAM. little stand alone house, fenced back yard, washer and dryer, enough bedrooms that i was able to have a live in nanny/friend for a while.

then the landlord forgot to pay his mortgage and we got kicked out 2 weeks before it went to auction. 

fast forward to now and it's just me.

my studio apartment is tiny and perfect. 

and now tiny house living is a thing.

holy.

fuck.

ya'll, i have a serious pinterest addiction to tiny houses.

i. am. OBSESSED. with tiny house living.

dirty little secret: i applied to go back to community college to get an interior design degree so i can design tiny houses.

long story short i was accepted! yay! but applied to the wrong school that doesn't have the program and now have to start again and then depression and then here we are and i haven't applied again.

BUT.

tiny house living.

omg.

my dream is to buy a trailer park or a piece of land and make a tiny house community.

a tiny house every other lot, the buffer spaces are a shared community garden, a pet area, a shop/garage for oil changes/auto repair/wood working/whatever, one is an open shared yard area, you get the idea.

AND, step further, the intentional community is for kids aging out of the foster system. provide a place for them to learn to build a safe, stable home in an intentional community of shared experience. rent would go toward hiring local people from the community to come in and teach classes available to help the community to learn how to start out a stable adult life. cooking classes, budgeting classes, yoga classes, oil changes, change a tire, how to make doctors appointments, time management, how to apply to jobs, how to interview, basic home repairs...again, you get the idea.

just, a safe place to help fill in some of the gaps that may have been overlooked because i don't think it's any big secret how chaotic and challenging the foster system can be and how some of these kids age out with no where to go.

they say: be the thing you needed.

i needed help when i started out. i was a 17 year old kid with a kid.

i didn't have a lot of room for mistakes.

i could have used a safe place.

so, how amazing would it be to help make that for someone else?

in a gorgeous little trailer park of tiny houses.

so.

there. i did it.

i wrote.

i focused on something that energizes me and excites me.

and i fucking feel better.

ARE YOU HAPPY UNIVERSE?

still here

i'm still here.

i'm WAY behind on weekly posts.

but i'm still here.

still frustrated.

still scared.

still bored as fuck.

still hate everything.

i'm particularly frustrated this week by finances.

who isn't?

i know. everyone is stressed about finances right now.

i'm jealous of the ones who are worried because of covid. at least there's an eventual end in sight.

i'm just straight up fucked.

i found out last week that no, my shiny new insurance doesn't pay for ANY mental health care.

as in NONE.

as in you have to reach your $5,000 deductible before they pay anything. that's 50 weeks of $100/per appointment.

there's only 52 weeks in a year...and i only go every other week

i'm sure it's my fault. i'm sure i didn't read the packet close enough.

i'm used to insurance that only requires a $20 copay or, for the short time i was on state insurance, fully covered.

but nope.

absolutely nothing.

besides a bill for services not covered.

i changed jobs, i changed careers, for NOTHING.

i completely fucked up.

and also, the child support i thought was on pause? not so much.

so between the pay cut and having medical deducted from my paychecks i'm bringing home $600 less per month. then throw in the $1k drop per month adjustment for no longer receiving child support AND now paying $423 per month for outgoing child support.

so. in the last year i've had to adjust for $2k less per month. when my total monthly income was only $3800.

so.

granted, i'm not the best at math, but that's...*sigh*

i was getting ready to adjust to this BEFORE everything with the lockdown happened.

i thought i had a reprieve, and now...

and, if you didn't know, child support is VICIOUS. or i'm just scared of everything. or both.

because of how long the case took to mitigate, i started out the initial judgement with 5 months of back support which means there are liens out against me, the IRS has been notified, there's a STACK of mean and threatening letters about losing my license, jail time, etc. for not paying the debit. THAT I JUST ACCRUED. literally in the same week as the final judgement papers i received a notice of lien.

funny (not funny) how it took them YEARS to track down my ex and make sure he paid child support but it took only 5 months to obliterate me.

it's just...

i feel like i try so hard to fight for myself only to be smashed down.

oh, you want a job where you're not groped every day and there's not constant hate speech? $5 hour less.

oh, you want to be able to sleep at night and not have to worry about being murdered by your own child? here's a support order and a notice from the IRS.

oh, you want to work on your mental health so you're not thinking about dying every day? ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...MONEY PLEASE.

none of this is because of the stay-at-home orders, but the lockdown hasn't helped.

i was doing fine for a while but it's been WAY too long since i've interacted with another human which, even for me, is extreme.

and it makes being single that much harder.

yes, i know being stuck in stay-at-home with a partner/family/roommate/whatever isn't sunshine and lollipops for everyone. i get it. and i honestly can't imagine sharing my itty bitty space with someone,

but there's also something to be said for having someone to talk to, maybe hug if it gets really bad. 

aside from the 30 second interactions with employees at grocery/target pick ups, i haven't talked to a real human being in person in a while.

well, aside from the neighbor that knocked on my door last week which was...awkward at best. no, i'm not going to invite you in, neighbor who isn't actually a neighbor and is the boyfriend of a neighbor (that i don't know at all...i *think* it's the lady with the yappy little dog).

but that's just...

no thanks.

at least most of my work clients/vendors are being very polite letting me chatter a bit before getting down to brass tacks.

i'm still trying. i'm meditating almost every day (sorry saturday).

vitamins. food. water. sunshine (through windows). music. showering.

oh, and i very, VERY quickly remembered why purple is a particularly mean color to pick when your hair maintenance isn't on point...

ahem.

i'm still trying to muddle through. reading still is impossible. writing...i've moved my notebook/pencil around with me every day for weeks without writing a damn word. crafting/art? ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. 

crappy shows on hulu that i don't actually watch are about all i've accomplished.

it feels like i'm stuck in this weird space of waiting for stay-at-home to end but knowing it won't fix anything for me when it DOES end.

i still won't be able to afford to go anywhere.

i'm frustrated.

i'm scared.

i'm bored.

i'm lonely.

i'm angry.

spin the fucking feelings wheel and no matter what it lands on i'm sure i've felt it this week.

i tried to clean/purge this weekend only to realize there's nothing to do with the stuff once you do that. so. everything just went back where it started. and entire weekend completing an exercise in futility.

at least all my plants are still alive.

and i've only gained 3 lbs.


fuck it.

FUCK. 

fucking fuck.

ok. this whole writing project is supposed to be me being honest and talking about everything, even the scary stuff. not just the whiny bitch bullshit.

so.

fine.

FUCKING FINE.

LET'S TALK ABOUT DEATH.

i'm terrified of dying.

i know that sounds weird from someone who has thoughts of death on the daily (yeah, again).

but fuck am i scared of dying.

what would happen to stella?

how long would it take for anyone to notice if i died in my apartment?

who the fuck would be stuck cleaning up my apartment and all my bullshit (thus the attempted purge this weekend). i've been the person doing the clean up. it's fucking terrible.

i need to update my will. my life insurance is decent and i want to make sure it doesn't go to the wrong people.

should i try to make amends with anyone?

who gets stuck dealing with my ashes?

how fucking frustrating would it be to die not mattering? no accomplishments. no reason for people to remember you ever existed. if my life was coco, i wouldn't even make it to the underworld village.

i don't have an in-case-of-emergency, i have a brother that lives on the opposite side of the state who doesn't like to talk about heavy things and i'm pretty sure death is one of the heaviest things.

although he did do well at handling my dad's estate. so. at least maybe that part will be taken care of.

it's a lot.

i was doing check-ins with people last week and found out one of my first responder friends was at home in isolation due to a cough.

he was in the waiting time between the test and the results (thankfully negative).

with all the news and new statistics coming out it really made me stop and think.

more and more it's sounding like WHEN, not IF you get this virus. the effort to flatten the curve was never to get rid of the virus, just an effort to mitigate the resources required to care for people. everyone would need a hospital at some point, just hopefully not all at the same time.

and now, beyond the WHEN, it's a matter of how bad, and no one seems to know how to predict that.

only old people.

well, old people plus compromised people.

well, old people, compromised people, regular aged people.

well, old people, compromised people, regular aged people, and kids.

well...

FUCK. JUST SAY FUCKING EVERYONE AND NO ONE KNOWS HOW IT WILL AFFECT THEM.

now they're showing "young" (aka anyone under the 65+ category) are getting strokes after recovery.

so, here's this thing that's evolved so rapidly (well, our knowledge of it has anyway) that now is basically inevitable, with a scale of sick to DEATH.

and i get that it's not really different than the majority of death anyway. you never know when you could trip on a sidewalk and die.

all it takes is one toilet seat from an international space station.

but someone who thinks about death on the daily, i really don't like thinking about death.

i don't have my own ISBN number in the library of congress.

i've never had a successful partnership.

i haven't accomplished a single damn thing in my life.

my kids haven't even taken the necessary classes to be able to property dance on my grave (although peeing on it shouldn't be too difficult to figure out).

for being very caviler about death, i really don't want to die yet.

and i know i'm a fucking raging cunt.

i can still pay my rent. i can still buy groceries and toilet paper. i still have a job to clock into at 7:00 every morning.

i know there's 26.5 million people that can't say the same thing this week.

i know there's 50k+ people that would love to worry about anything right now.

all my therapy tools are SCREAMING at me in my head right now.

stop comparing. stop wallowing. find a positive. make a change.

YEAH.

CAUSE THE LAST SEVERAL CHANGES I MADE WENT SO WELL.

AND ALL MY HARD THERAPY WORK HAS TOTALLY PAID OFF. OBVIOUSLY.

anyway.

i'm still here.

week: who the fuck knows

i haven't written in a few weeks.

it seems like with everything going on in the world, EVERYONE is writing a think piece or how this is impacting them or any of the millions of articles related to the current state of the world.

the main thing i've seen in response to the deluge of writing is people saying the last thing they want is another think piece.

so.

i've just...not.

well, that's half of it.

the other half is bad habits kicking back in.

today is not a good day.

and like all my other bad days the first thing i do is tell myself to shut up about it. no one wants to hear a whiner. everyone is having a hard time right now. suck it up buttercup.

all the usual players are here- shame, guilt, anger, fear, judgment, insults, insecurity...

BUT.

the whole point of this writing project was to be honest with myself. stop hiding from the hard stuff. write it out.

i've been monumentally stupid in the last few weeks.

for about a month i was accidentally forcing myself into a terrible postpartum depression. i mixed the wrong supplements under the idiotic thinking that "if they sell it at target, it can't be bad for you."

i researched evening primrose oil as a natural way to help skin and pms among other things. i researched the shit out of it, like i do everything else. a few minor side effects listed: headache, digestive issues. no big deal. first few days my boobs HURT but digging a little deeper showed one of the "side effects" was breast growth. huh. weird. whatever.

then i started noticing my skin getting WORSE. way worse. painful cystic acne worse. but, you know, things take a minute to adjust. maybe it's just purging the bad stuff out of my system then it will all clear up.

OR.

maybe i'll randomly mention something to a friend (an herbologist) who lets me know: btw, it kinda tricks your body into thinking it's pregnant. oh, and also that other supplement you take can also be used as an abortificant.

THAT'S RIGHT.

i'm dumb enough to mix supplements that simultaneously made my body think it was pregnant AND trying to abort causing a postpartum like depression. because that's what i need. MORE DEPRESSION.

on top of that i've been in the middle of a rent strike at my apartment.

since all this covid bullshit has started, my building management has refused to provide any kind of rent relief OR clean the building. after repeated emails to them asking to have common areas cleaned, the finally sent a (nasty) notice with their cleaning schedule (fake), the areas cleaned (still visually dirty) and the products used (i would love to see reports on how a swiffer cleans covid).

i'm at a loss. technically they provided what i asked for. they state the cleaning is being done. it would be my word against them if i complained (if i even found someone to file a complaint with). they're being absolutely terrible up to and including threatening eviction. yes, i know they can't evict right now, there's a 150 day moratorium. it's still massively blows though. i have NEVER not paid rent OR ever even been late on my rent. it's been a point of pride in my 21 years of rental history. i'm furious that there's nothing i can do. i'm furious that they're lying. i'm furious that the building is dirty and unsafe, especially as most of the other tenants are older. but what can i do? i'm shouting into the void. it's my tiny voice against a corporation who has zero interest in doing what's right.

the same thing is happening at work. i've heard the "you should be grateful to still have a job" line so many times and it's so abusive. the company didn't let us keep our jobs out of a magnanimous gesture. they did it to keep making money. they didn't "let" us all work from home out of goodwill. if that was the case, it would have been available YEARS ago. they did it because they need to keep money hitting the accounts. they sent out a corporate wide email about how they're not paying out 19 billion in shareholder payments right now to "help the company" during this time. YOU WANT TO HELP THE COMPANY? use some of that 19 billion euro to provide full medical and living wages to your employees. stop pushing productivity right now. let people adjust to the entire world being a fucking dumpster fire. say "people should have adapted to work from home by now..." ONE MORE TIME YOU FUCKING ASSHATS. it wasn't a one time thing. it's a continuously evolving trauma that gets worse the deeper we get into it and as patience and mental health erode.

again, just screaming into the void.

that's the frustrating thing for me. so many things are changing. people are coming together. communities are finding ways to support each other. but the fucking over keeps happening. and that's not going to change any time soon.

why are we all trying to pull each other up by our boot straps?

that meme about how we're all just passing around the same $20 on venmo?

it's not fucking funny because it's REAL. we're all worried about each other when the people who can make a difference are fighting over who gets the credit and money.

it's just so fucking defeating.

in addition to all this, my poor little puppers is in heat again. she's extra needy, extra smelly, extra disgusting, extra potty accident prone. my apartment is disgusting right now. i've tried every different type of puppy diaper on her and nothing works. so. all the blankets and rugs are in desperate need of washing. my whole apartment reeks because there's no amount of cleaning i can do right now to make things clean. i open the windows when i can, but my radiators have never worked right and the weather is still fucking COLD more than not. it just feels gross.

and then today (TMI WARNING: LOOK AWAY) i started my period (periods during a pandemic should be illegal) so now we're BOTH feeling miserable and gross.

two bitches in heat.

social distancing is for YOUR safety right now.

(not stella)

in the middle of all this i meditated for a few days and came to the difficult decision that i had a friendship i needed to step away from for a bit.

spoiler alert, it did not go well.

not the first time. won't be the last. but it did make a difficult decision even harder. i spent a great portion of my life, adult and child, not speaking up because of the fear of backlash. it took a long time after getting out of domestic violence to be able to speak my mind again (yes, me, the loudmouth).

the reaction showed that it was the right decision, but it was still a terrible ending.

and it's hard to let go of one of your people when you only have a few people, in a time when you can't have ANY people.


*sigh* so. that was a lot of whining and complaining.

it's been a lot.

i feel myself shutting down.

i feel myself withdrawing, which, when you're home alone...is weird.

i've been trying to do the things. i'm still taking my daily vitamins. hopefully no longer poisoning myself while doing so. i'm trying to meditate (you can tell you're not in a great headspace when meditating makes you angrier). i'm trying to stick to a regular sleep schedule. i'm trying to shower daily (only missed 1 so far!). i'm still ordering/picking up groceries and basics. i'm still eating(ish). i'm trying to read but i can't focus on anything and end up reading the same sentence 6 times and still not reading it.

i'm sure some of it is still my hormones trying to sort themselves back out. most of it is just my own shitty behavior and thought patterns.

i'm tired. i'm tired of fighting for my mental health. i'm tired of working so hard to string together a few good days just to get derailed again. it's fucking exhausting having to fight with my own brain every single day. i know it takes a lot of time and hard work to change behavior patterns. i've worked really hard, for years, to recognize and interrupt the bad crap and replace it with the good.

i haven't had a therapy appointment in a few weeks. i forgot to schedule another session after my last zoom session. partly because i'm TERRIFIED of the bill. i haven't seen a bill since i started going again back in december. i KNOW my insurance doesn't cover all of it. hell, my insurance might not cover any of it until my deductible is met. i read through all the documents several times but it's so fucking confusing. that means...let's see...9 appointments, probably at least $100 each means...i'm fucked.

also, i'm 98% sure my therapist is as exhausted from talking about the same bullshit over and over as i am. every time she gently reminds me "we've talked about this before..." i just want to scream I KNOW. WELCOME TO MY BRAIN. i get so mad at myself for being stuck on the same fucking issues over and over. i know it's annoying as fuck on her end. it has to be, because it drives me fucking insane. I KNOW THE ANSWER. I KNOW THE WORK. I KNOW HOW TO ADJUST THIS. and then i just get stuck again.

i'm trying to...i just need a win, you know?

work from home: week 1

well.

i promised myself when i started this project i would write about it all.

the good, the bad, the ugly.

this was a bad week.

this was a period hormones, world pandemic, social distancing, work from home notice, struggling to find a reason to stay alive week.

we'll start easy.

last week people started shifting to working from home. the first wave was 25% on friday the 13th. by tuesday it was up to 90%. there were a few of us hold outs at the office.

i prefer to work from an office. i NEED human contact. even if it's just the people walking by on the way to get coffee, IT'S PEOPLE.

i'm not a social person. this is not shocking news.

work is 87.2% of ALL my social interactions.

friday they gave us the official boot and i packed up all my shit and set up my tiny little desk to be my new office.

the work part doesn't bother me. all i need is my computer and a phone.  working from home will be nice in a LOT of ways. no warm toilet seats in the bathroom. no annoying coworker leaving passive aggressive notes on an EMPTY desk claiming it in the middle of everyone being sent home. no assholes leaving both coffee pots in the kitchen empty.

i'll have art to look at all day. plenty of light and windows to see outside. proper meals whenever i'm hungry.

i'll miss the cafe. the baristas were so incredibly nice.

i'll miss seeing my cube-neighbor every morning.

i'll miss the people whose names i don't know but i talked to in the kitchen every morning.

i'm so, so, so immensely grateful to have the opportunity to work from home.

i'm just really struggling with the corporate overlords hyper focus on numbers and productivity and not leaving ANY room for work flow shift as we all adjust to this new normal. i'm struggling giving even the tiniest rats ass about an auto dealership in texas getting fiber internet installed right now. which is...what i do. so.  you know. gotta figure that part out.

i'm nervous about 2x daily group team chats. my new "office" is in my bedroom. because...studio apartment. the potential awkward is off the charts.

i'm nervous about disconnecting at the end of the day. about remember what day it is. i'm already struggling wanting to spend "just a little bit of extra off the clock time" going through file names and cleaning up how things are saved in files i know other people access. now that we're all working from home i have this (virgo) need to organize everything since people won't be able to pop by my cubicle real quick to ask a question.

i worry that i'll be the weak link that will make everyone else not be able to get things done remotely.

i worry that i've only been at this job 4 1/2 months and still barely know my ass from my elbow.

i'm pretty mad at myself right now for never figuring out how to be a stay at home mom or a stay at home partner.

i would give anything right now for my biggest problem to be worrying about how to get acrylic nails off at home since salons are closed and it would be mortifying for anyone to see my nails grown out (real post from a fb group).

OH THE HORROR.

but, alas, i am not a stay at home wife or partner.


i'm still the same, single, social pariah i was last week.

which leads into some of the really bad stuff in my head this week.

my oldest son had to be on a nebulizer for years.  twice a day breathing treatments. we'd put the little drops in the machine and he would wear the darth vader mask while watching a veggie tales video.

the doctors were never able to tell us WHY we had to do that. he didn't have allergies. he didn't have asthma. we found out later, during a growth spurt, that he has sunken chest syndrome where the cartilage on his ribs on one side curves IN instead of OUT. did that cause it? there's one corrective treatment for it...they basically cut you in half and strap a metal rib cage to the cartilage and hope it corrects itself. that's it. we chose not to do that treatment.

does it still affect his breathing? does it make him more at risk for things like corona? i don't know.

last i knew he was living in the bellingham area.

ground zero for the united states.

would anyone even tell me if he got sick?

i doubt it.

my youngest son had early onset puberty at 6 months old. we started seeing pediatric endocrinologists. a few years later he had a reaction to an MMR shot and i discontinued immunizations for years because of how it affected him. this is why i keep my mouth shut about anti-vaxxer stuff. i don't know about for EVERYONE, but i watched it directly and extremely markedly affect my son.

we had *just* moved out of a domestic violence situation. he had JUST started interacting with people. talking. walking. engaging. social. happy. bubbly. got his mmr shot and that all went away.

so we stopped vaccines. instead we did speech therapy, reading therapy, behavior therapy. mentors and tutors and intervention programs at school. we started them again when he was 13 and the local school district stopped allowing medical exemptions for school records.

as he was 13 and in charge of all his medical decisions, i explained why i had stopped the shots, explained what i saw were the risks and the benefits and he made the decision to get caught up on his shots.

within a few months his behaviors had completely changed. his attitude was different. his reasoning, his discussions, his interactions. his behaviors at school started to fall apart. he started running away, getting into drugs, getting into fights, arguing with police officers.

regular teenage hormones + high school + friend influence? or some form of an allergic reaction that altered him again, the same way it did when he was a baby?

I DON'T KNOW.

does it affect his health now? does his pattern of high risk behavior put him more at risk for contracting/spreading this virus?

again, would anyone tell me if he got sick?

my mother is somewhere in alabama. she'll be 65 this year. she has ankylosing spondylitis in conjunction with iritis. the lifetime of medications from controlling those started causing pancreas issues years ago.

if she got sick would anyone tell me?

i have a brother who is a king county deputy.

a cop. in the middle of a pandemic. that started in his county.

and he goes to work every day. then goes home to his wife and 2 kids.

king county sent out a work-from-home notice a while ago. strangely enough his boss didn't agree to allow him to catch bad guys from his recliner. so it's a daily hi-ho and off to work for him.

luckily everyone else is dead.

grandparents all kicked off a long time ago.

i don't have to worry about my dad (also a cop) out in this.

i don't have to worry about my little brother living in seattle without insurance during this.


it's a weird feeling when you're glad people are dead.

and then there's me.

i'm the fucking worthless lump of nothing sitting in my apartment, 99% unaffected by any of what's happening and 100% unable to help with any of it.


i'm still fucking broke.

as much as i want to, i have zero ability to support local businesses trying to get through this.

I WISH i could order food from local restaurants. i fucking LOATHE cooking, even in the best of times.

I WISH i could sign up for online yoga and zumba and work out classes. even if i could afford it, i live on the third floor and we're ALL stuck at home and i really don't think my neighbors want to listen to elephant on parade every day.

i don't know how to sew OR own a sewing machine. even if i did, you really, REALLY wouldn't want a mask made by me.

i could run errands for neighbors but that would include A) talking to my neighbors (the meth heads can fend for themselves), B) going out where all the fucking assholes that AREN'T taking precautions are, and C) doing shopping. something i can barely force myself to do, for myself, unless i am completely out of everything.

i'm not a musician. i'm not an artist. i'm not a comedienne. i don't have anything in particular to contribute to the online community.

my skill set is this:
-sitting completely still reading (the same books over and over) for hours on end.

-professional level social distancing. i've been getting stood up by dates for 21 years. i was social distancing before it was even a thing.

- subsiding on a diet of trash panda food

-hiding my emotions and feelings behind carefully crafted jokes and half stories.



so. yeah. i'm struggling right now.

there's nothing like a global pandemic to show you how completely useless you are.

so.

yeah. 

i'm struggling.

i don't have a particularly positive note to end this on.

and that annoys me.

complain as much as you want AS LONG AS YOU PROVIDE A SOLUTION.

fuck.

ok.

well. i'm still hunting for silver linings.

i'm still trying.

I'M WRITING EVEN WHEN IT'S BAD.

that's something.

i'm being honest.

i'm still putting this out there even though there's a REALLY, REALLY, REALLY loud voice in my head screaming with all it's might FUCK OFF YOU TWAT. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE IT REALLY BAD RIGHT NOW? cry a little more you pathetic useless piece of shit from your comfy, colorful, safe apartment. you still have a job. you have plenty of food. you have puppy snuggles. suck it up buttercup.

but i've listened to that voice for years.

i've done the suck it up buttercup thing.

i've spent way too long keeping silent just because someone else has it worse.

there will ALWAYS be someone who has it worse.

growing up in the 80's taught me that.

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY STARVING CHILDREN THERE ARE IN AFRICA?

so.

things are bad.

but i'm still here.

i made myself write this.

that's a start.

i knew starting this project there would be a LOT of changes. i knew anything could happen in a years time.

i did NOT expect this.

but.

i mean.

i'll get through it.