Posted in Life As I Know It, Soapbox

A Season of Blursdays – Lessons Learned from the Covid-19 Pandemic of 2020

I’ve come to think of every day as Blursday, Marchtember Oneteenth during this pandemic. For most all of us, there is life BC (Before Covid) and then this haze of “the new normal.” It has most definitely been a struggle. So much loss, fear, pain, and uncertainty. Maybe all those things apply directly to you or maybe some only to those around you or beyond, but we are all going through a metamorphosis of sorts.

I thought a not-so-brief chronicle of some of the lessons I am learning (so far) through this time might resonate with you. I kind of got on a roll, so feel free to scroll to the ones that pique your interest. Of course, who am I kidding? You can stop reading altogether, too…I never assume I’ve won your time to read my words!

Lessons learned…in no particular order…

I knew marking lasts was important to me, but I never knew just how much. I missed the last couple days of work in March because I had a cold and feared that my symptoms would be off-putting to those I would come in contact with. Those two days were Thursday and Friday. By Monday, the doors were closed. No goodbye to coworkers or taking a moment to pause and consider. Of course, no one knew it would be this long, but I wish I would have had a chance to mark that moment—and others, too.

With word filtering out that schools would probably close soon, my son came home from school that Friday with hopes of being able to record a rehearsal of the play he was lead in that Monday after school to at least have a version of it. But there was no school that Monday, and there was no rehearsal to record. The seniors didn’t know that Friday that it would be the last time they walked those halls that signified so much during this chapter of their lives. It all happened so fast.

My heart aches for them and all that they missed.

I took to keeping a list of “Covid Castaways”—those things canceled and missed due to the pandemic. It’s a long—and growing—list. My son tells me, “Mom, you don’t get to be more upset than me. It’s fine. I’m fine.” I don’t believe that totally, but I do believe that these kids are going to come through this experience stronger and more resilient. But being able to note a last, to take it in before the tide turns, truly means something to me—and now I realize it so much more.

Time does not facilitate creativity in and of itself. When I learned that I was going to be paid for several weeks even though I could only do minimal work from home, I thought, Girl, you are going to kick some serious writing ass…I mean, come on—no excuses, right? My stalled book project would find new life with all the time I could dedicate to it, except…time does not equal creativity or the ability to focus. Discipline, might, but…yeah. Not my strong suit on most things. Especially when…

I recognize just how many layers of anxiety I have. I have dealt with anxiety all my life, but these last few years have piled additional layers almost like sedimentary rock. And just like rock, it is hard to climb out from under. The divisiveness of our country has weighed on my heart in direct correlation with its growth—or at least its “outing,” where things like social media gave hate and vitriol megaphones to use and abuse. But in 2016, that layer hardened into heavy stone. Another layer may be added in November of this year. I’m trying to fight against it but brace for it in hopes that it won’t crush me if it solidifies. Other layers include the pandemic, of course, as well as social injustice, job limbo, financial security, what the future will look like…

Realizing who is truly an “essential” worker has exemplified the reality and unfairness of income inequality. In many ways, this pandemic has highlighted how the disparity of income levels has a reverse correlation to the essential value of the work done. Want to be wealthy? Help the rich get richer. Want to worry about whether or not you can take a vacation, send your kid to college, qualify for a mortgage, or have health insurance? Serve others. That may be what some people call capitalism, but it’s what I call fucked up.

It doesn’t take long for our polarized society to even see something like a pandemic as a divisive issue. One word: masks. Seriously? As I shared on Facebook, here’s the deal with the whole “you can’t legislate my face” mask issue that I just don’t freaking understand…I have claustrophobia and would really love not to wear a mask when I go out in public. But if I did that, it’s not myself I put at risk but YOU. And that makes me slam dunk choose to make myself uncomfortable because it’s worth it. But unless and until that choice is a collective American choice, we are simply prolonging the agony and suffering for everyone. The message that non-mask wearers make is very clear: I care about me more than you…or your elderly mom…or your diabetic kid…or the economy that will continue to suffer as places deal with ongoing sickness and death…or this country I allegedly love so much. And that really pisses me off.

The importance of face-to-face visits, even for this introvert. When I was a kid, Zoom was a TV show. Now it’s how I interact with almost everyone who is not in my house. Optometrists must be making a good buck through all of this. But screens—while better than nothing—do not come close to truly being with others. I pray for a vaccine for many reasons—and one of them is because I’ve got some serious hugging to do when it is safe to do so again.

In the absence of structure, routine is all the more critical. Oh, routine, where art thou? Apparently, one of the best routines I keep is the search for the perfect routine. Seriously—I have scads of notes on attempted routines that will allow me to be at my best…and then never followed. And now? When many life anchors have been lifted? Yeesh. It is so needed. And so glaringly missing. I think I’ll hammer out a new and improved routine tomorrow. That should do the trick.

The mundane matters. BC, I appreciated that my commute was short. If we ever get to AC (After Covid, not air conditioning), I will appreciate that I have a commute. I appreciate running errands now…because I can. Those everyday mundane things matter, and I hope to remember that in the future when I am stuck in traffic on my commute. But Covid has also reminded me of the value of the sun (holy crimony was it a gray Spring!), long walks, quiet time, and just being with one another.

Covid-19 isn’t our country’s only pandemic. The murder of George Floyd has incited not only protests but conversations…and helped bring to the forefront an ongoing fight—a long, arduous battle—for justice and equality. There is much work to be done. No one is “immune” from racism. There is no vaccine. And the more we can have the necessary, tough “come to Jesus” (literally…in terms of how he treated all people) conversations, the closer we’ll come to curing this cancer that is crippling our country.

Saturation and emotional exhaustion are the enemy of empathy. We can only take so much, right? But what if it just keeps coming? There is so much to worry about and be angry about… and to feel. It’s overwhelming. And sometimes that can result in shutting down for a bit. Sometimes we need to step away for our own mental health and catch our breath. The danger comes when we shut out. Empathy is one of our greatest tools in bridging divides, and if we lose that…well, let’s just not find out, okay? Let’s recharge and not retreat.

We are in this together…but very differently. My family has been blessed with the ability to stay home and work. But I know people who have continued to go to work every day because of what they do. And then there are the multitudes of people who lost their jobs. All such different experiences.

My family has been blessed with health. I know others who have had Covid, though I know no one personally who has died or lost a loved one from it. But as of today, over 143,000 American families unfortunately know exactly what that is like.

Yes, this is a collective experience, and some of the stories we will tell one day will share those common threads. So many more, though, will be stories that only we can share. What will the moral of those stories be? Only time will tell…but I pray that they show what we have learned from this…and from one another.

“…in the long run there is no more liberating, no more exhilarating experience than to determine one’s position, state it bravely, and then act boldly.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

Posted in Life As I Know It, Soapbox

The Privilege of Uncomplicated Morality

In these days after the killing of George Floyd, our country is at a critical crossroads. As a white woman, I have chosen to share resources on social media from those who know better…much, much, much better.* I’ve been doing a lot of listening and trying to keep my big yap shut when it comes to “knowing” and avoid “whitesplaining” because as an ally, I know that’s the right thing to do. Instead I’ve been reading people like Rachel Cargle, Layla Saad, and others to listen and learn.

But.

But since the individual who is inhabiting the highest office in our country recently used tear gas to clear out peaceful protesters so that he could hold up a Bible in front of a church for a photo op…

And since I just came back from a walk where I overheard a group of white women who were lounging in their private pool denigrating the protesters…

I need to say something before my heart and carotid artery burst.

Morality is infinitely easier to uphold in a privileged world. (Though absolutely not a given…all we need to do is open our eyes on that front…)

For instance, it is easier to take a tough stance on immigration when one is born into a zip code of opportunity through no doing of one’s own. “Those kids wouldn’t be separated from their parents if they hadn’t been trying to break into our country illegally! They get what they deserve!”

But what if “empathy powers” were engaged, and those who hold that belief would think about the choices they might make if they were born into the world of those families? If they were told that their children had two choices: join the drug gangs that rule the town and beyond…or get killed. I’m thinking that they would be better able to understand why those families see leaving their homes and all that they know as their best shot at a better life…because they connected on the commonality of loving one’s family and trying to provide the best, safest life for them.

When you think of an issue as though it affects you…it’s not so uncomplicated anymore.

And when I see the anger of injustice spilling into the streets in peaceful protest that has at times turned violent—I try, to the best of my ability, which will never be enough—to think what it must be like to live fully ensconced in a world of injustice where dying at the hands of police is a very realistic fear. Just ask the families of George Floyd, Eric Garner, Ezell Ford, Michelle Cusseaux, Tanisha Anderson, Tamir Rice, Natasha McKenna, Walter Scott, Bettie Jones, Philando Castile, Botham Jean, Atatiana Jefferson, Eric Reason, Dominique Clayton, and Breonna Taylor.

Empathy helps us understand one another even if we don’t necessarily agree with everything…or maybe even anything.

And empathy is a critical part to fixing this system that is built on injustice.

So…if I am deep, deep, deep down angry that this injustice is our truth when I am one of those who benefit from white privilege…what must the anger be like for the people of color who it directly affects? After decades of trying to seek justice and trying to budge the needle?

It must be exponentially deeper…and complicated.

And the opportunists who are using this time to benefit themselves—and they reach beyond the looters in the streets up into the highest office—are shifting the focus away from the murder of George Floyd…

…and giving a bunch of women in a pool a “reason” to ignore what needs to truly change and instead condemn the fringe as the whole.

What are we going to do, America? Are we going to let the violence justify allowing the continued suppression of change and the denial of inequality, or are we going to try to understand the difference between anger and opportunity and not let it deter us from making right what has for so long been wrong?

I do not have the right to pretend that I “know,” but I do believe this:

The answer is on us. All of us.

And it is long overdue.

But.

But our country is stricken with the debilitating cancer of division and derision.

And if there are those who don’t agree that blasting tear gas at peaceful protesters to clear the way for a Bible holding photo op is wrong…

And if there are those who don’t agree that there is racial injustice, inequality, and inequity in this country that needs facing and fixing…

Then I’m not sure where we go from here.


*a few resources I’ve appreciated…
An Antiracist Reading List
this was a good week (resources for being anti-racist)
When Feminism Is White Supremacy in Heels
What We’re Reading About The Past Week Of Protests

Posted in Life As I Know It, Soapbox

The Mukluk Man: An Odd but Accurate Exemplar of How Assaulted Women Are Treated

It’s time to tell my story of the Mukluk Man. Well, more accurately the story is about Mr. Intense, but Mukluk Man factors in and makes for a better title. The story itself, though, is utterly representative of how women are “handled” when it comes to being treated poorly—and often criminally—by men.

Continue reading “The Mukluk Man: An Odd but Accurate Exemplar of How Assaulted Women Are Treated”

Posted in Life As I Know It, Soapbox

365 Days in…Still Very Broken

One year ago today…our country changed forever. Continue reading “365 Days in…Still Very Broken”

Posted in Life As I Know It, Soapbox

Me, Too: It’s Okay…It’s Only Touching

I remember the exact date. I remember his name and his angular face. I remember his smell. To this day, it still turns my stomach if I catch a whiff of Polo cologne. Continue reading “Me, Too: It’s Okay…It’s Only Touching”

Posted in Life As I Know It, Soapbox

Unity—Is That What We Really Want?

I don’t.

There’s no way I want to be unified with white supremacists or Nazis. Or people who are devoted to pushing others down in the false hope that they will stand taller. Or with anyone who takes delight in others’ suffering.  Continue reading “Unity—Is That What We Really Want?”