Tough Week

I was determined to ignore the news this past week, but it didn't work so well. I've pretty much avoided reading all political stories since the day after the election, and I stuck with that, but. To properly ignore a story, I have to know what's in it, and so I read the headlines. The headlines are bad enough.

I will say this for the man - he showed us who he was.

So much upheaval and disruption. None of it is helping to lower the price of eggs, no surprise.

I am grieving the country I thought I lived in. My emotional regulation center doesn't seem to distinguish between sources of grief, and so I've found myself also missing Bob, who is not here to tell me it will all be OK, and missing Libby, who will NOT be turning 59 when her birthday rolls around next week. 

*heavy sigh*

I'd want to DO SOMETHING, but I'm already doing the things I can do.  I never stopped the protest donations I started the first time he took power - I knew they were still needed. (If you're curious, the donations go to the ACLU, Planned Parenthood, Gabby Gifford's anti-gun organization, and Harvesters, my local food pantry.)

While I know I am not alone in my frustration and fear, I find these to be isolating emotions, and I haven't reached out for the support I know is out there. Soon enough.

In the meantime, Sylvester still needs his morning walk. 

We step out each morning into the crisp, cold, clean air, right around the time the sun begins to light the eastern sky.

We stop every few yards, especially for the first part of the walk. He needs to sniff the important messages left on the grass and the bases of the trees, and thus I have some time to look around and notice the world around me.

The streets are quiet.

Each morning, the gray begins to lift a bit earlier than it did the day before. 

The last couple of mornings, I've heard snatches of bird song! 

Tactile reminders: This, too, shall pass (but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck to be in the midst of it).

I just need to take one more step. I can do this.

Thoughts on Fear

If you've followed this blog for a while, you know one of my mantras is "Cancer isn't the enemy, Fear is the enemy." Given the givens of my world, I've had lots of opportunity to deal with feelings of fear popping up over the past few weeks, and so I've been mulling this over. Quite often, as a matter of fact.

Because I think I've been wrong. Or, if I want to be a bit more charitable towards myself, I think I've oversimplified my mantra.

Because Fear isn't my enemy. Fear is an emotion. It belongs in the uncomfortable feelings bucket, along with anger and jealousy, but it's not an enemy. Rather, like all the emotions which float across my internal sky, it is information. 

It's been trying to tell me something. And, it's been spot on. I DO find cancer scary. I DO find uncontrolled fires scary. (especially when they are threatening my personal people!) I DO find the current political scene scary. The danger is NOT all in my head; it is real, and Fear is doing its level best to try to protect me. 

So, I've been working to change my approach towards Fear.

Because, no, Fear isn't the enemy. But when I ignore it, or try to shove it under the rug, or stuff it in a pot, it does become a problem. It shouts ever louder and jumps up and down to try to get my attention, it makes a bump for me to trip over in the rug, it spills out over the edges of the pot and makes a mess on the counter. It grows. It traps me in a corner and stops me in my tracks.

But, when I invite it in for tea, and sit with it at the table and listen to its warnings, it shrinks. It just wants to be heard. After we have finished our tea, I've been thanking it for alerting me, for trying to keep me safe.

And then, I've been moving on.

Because the real enemy is the part of me allowing Fear to stop me from living today, the only day I have. I have discovered the way around that part - whatever that part is called - is to take one next step. Then another. Enough steps, and this, too, shall be behind me.

My favorite internet thought for today:

  

This, too, shall pass - but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck to be in the midst of it.

Amen!

Fire!

The photos of fire streaming in from California seem a far cry from the fire of my Advent candles, but they've been a visceral reminder of the power of nature. Here, fire is a symbol of hope of light in the darkness. There, it's a cry of danger from our planet; a harbinger of fallout in the days to come from our failure to heed the warning signs.

 I have, of course, seen photos of fire and devastation before. But like the difference between hearing other people's cancer stories and hearing someone you love has received a positive test result, the fear strikes closer to home when it's affecting your personal people.

This time, the fire maps show roads I've driven on, beaches where I've found solace listening to the waves. In my mind's eye, I see what was, and try to reconcile it with the ash-filled frames of the photos in the paper. I cry.

This time, it's my daughter and cousin who have evacuated from their homes and are bunking with friends until the fires can be put out. This time, it's my friend Kelly who is reeling from the news that while her condo building is still there, the surrounding neighborhood, the homes of her Covid coven people, have all been turned to ash.

Once again, my heart cries with fear and grief. "How can this be????"

Once again, I am reminded, this time forcefully, today is the only day I have. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. Nothing is guaranteed, except death. Cold comfort, that.

To escape the spiral down, I pivot to what I know is good. My people have evacuated, but they are alive and well. They have friends; are not alone as they cope with this mess. As Mr. Rogers said, "look for the helpers." The firefighters are working around the clock to contain the blaze. Our friends from Mexico and Canada have sent equipment to help in the fight. 

Sometimes, bad stuff happens. No avoiding it. 

But every time, every time, I remember to look for it, I find Good, and the presence of Good makes it easier to stop and breathe for a moment. To figure out one next step, then to take that step.

Sometimes, one step is all I can do. 

Sometimes, that's enough. Because when I take one step, then one more, experience tells me I will eventually come out of the dark times. This, too, shall pass. 

Snow Days!

The forecasts were ominous last weekend, and I will admit I was a bit nervous as I awaited the storm's arrival. A coat of ice, lots of snow, high winds, followed by plummeting temperatures - it sounded like a recipe made for extended power outages. "Please no!" I pleaded with the powers that be. Much to my surprise, so far, they have listened. The power has stayed on. *whew!*

The ice arrived right on schedule around noon on Saturday, but the weather gods heard my prayers, because it was just a light coating - enough to make walking outside treacherous, but not enough to bring down power lines. 

The snow began a few hours later, and flurries continued through the night. I woke up Sunday morning, peered out the window, and thought, "Huh. The storm must have detoured around us." Famous last words.

To the contrary, it was just sleeping in. By noon, I had a nice 5-6" coat of snow, with A LOT more to come in the forecast. 

Hmmm. I know I can easily shovel 6" of snow, but 14"? I was guessing somewhere in there my back would decline to participate in the exercise. But, the driveway wasn't going to shovel itself. 

Hmmm. There's no rule I know of that says one MUST wait until the snowfall has finished to clear the sidewalks. So I bundled up and went out for a nice little 2 1/2 hour core workout. Fortunately for me, the snow was on the lighter, fluffier end of the spectrum, so I finished up the job in good shape. Of course, by the time I finished the round, the first section I'd shoveled had another 2" of snow down, but I ignored that fact and went inside to admire my handiwork from a warm vantage point, steaming cup of hot chocolate in hand. 

I spent the afternoon cuddled up with a book, watching the snow fall. (One of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon. Oh, yeah!)

About an hour before sunset, I figured I'd best get out there again, even though the snow was still coming down strong. This time the snow was even fluffier, which is a good thing, because I was a bit tired from the first round. 

As I headed outside, I thought I was going to be miserable in the cold and dark, but was pleasantly surprised to find myself chugging along without a problem. I had the right clothes on, and was moving quickly enough that I wasn't cold. We haven't had a good snowfall in quite some time, so I was enjoying the beauty of the falling flakes, the evening's hush, interrupted only by the sound of the wind gusts. I stopped now and again to admire the diamond glints covering the ground and sparkling in the light of the street lamps.

As I worked, I was afraid I was pushing my limits, and I was right. By the time I was finishing up, another 2 1/2 hours in, my right hip was using only unpleasant words when it spoke to me, and my lower back had given me a final warning - do much more, and you WILL BE SORRY.

I listened.

I stopped working, went inside, grabbed a quick bite, and settled into a well-earned, long, hot bath. 

Despite the soak, it took quite a while for my muscles to settle down once I crawled into bed, but I'd worked long and hard enough to fall asleep despite the assorted twinges and aches. 

Monday morning's unaccustomed brightness (it snowed!) woke me, and I cautiously rolled over and took inventory. No back twang! Hips, unhappy but moving. Shoulders, tight but ditto. *whew!* I guess I just got paid for all those hours I've spent at the gym these past few years. 

This being Kansas City, it'll still be a few days before the streets will be clear enough for my car to get around, but my driveway is ready to go! (Fortunately, I have friends with practical cars willing to help get me where I need to be; Uber makes a nice backup.)

Happy New Year!