Category: Moving Forward

Pole Sitting

I’ve done protesting x3 and phone banking x2. I like protesting and, strangely enough, getting flipped off by passers by. Pole sitting originally was planned for the art fibers group I head called Stitch & Resist to sit with me at the poling place and crochet/knit/embroider or just sit and witness the voting, but mostly to be there and record any ICE shenanigans. That was the plan, but I got tangled up in my calendar, missed meetings and it never quite got off the ground. So, my alternative was to sit in my car at a single poling place and watch for the aforementioned shenanigators and be there to record them from the comfort of my car. While I crochet. Nothing has happened as of yet. I was there from 7:45 am (after I personally cast my ballots) until about 2:00pm because my car didn’t come with bathroom facilities and I desperately needed water. My whole body goes weird if I don’t get my daily 160+ ounces. I’ll head back out around 4:00pm to sit at the same poling place…in the car. On my way in to the house for the bathroom I heard I was doing it wrong. I’m supposed to be a happy cheery shiny example in the poling place. Nope! I need the security blanket kind of comfort from my car.

There have been incidents with ICE at the poling places. Two to be exact. One the TPD was helping them which is against the city rules I’m told so if we see that again we need to take a picture. The other was just an empty ICE vehicle. Not scary, on paper. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be a bystander who does nothing. This is rankling my anxiety – obviously – but that is the purpose of these outings. I’m trying to learn to be braver than I think I am. If I can slowly ramp up to something more useful. I’m tired of being afraid and hopeless.

We the people, I have learned, are not powerless even though the kakistocrats want you to believe we are.. Example: I took to personally boycotting Target with others in the US because of their involvement with ICE. I have found other places who need the money more than that ubiquitous retailer. In a SURJ meeting I heard they lost money. They reported a negative profit for the quarter. I hope they have it for the happiest season of the year too!

Through all this I have been listening to myself and what I feel comfortable doing, instead of just ‘pushing through’. Yes, it gets done either way, but I don’t want to go back to gritting my teeth and doing it only to boomerang back into the dark rim of the void. I am learning to say ‘no’ to them. I’m willing to push my limits and comfort zone on my terms. My New Years Resolution for this year was to attend a protest, do phone banking and go door-to-door. I still have to go door-to-door and I’m not sure that’ll get done before the end of the year. I do know phone banking is easy and you can have some interesting conversations but it is not for me. I don’t even know why it’s not for me, it’s just not. Most importantly I’m not taking it as a challenge I need to overcome, I can do other things. I am not required to do everything or anything beyond my capability. I am unique and I cannot compare myself to others. no matter how I compare with the capability of others.

Some of this new found confidence, I know, is from the “Finch” app. I’ve stuck with it for 161 days. I still don’t have any friends. Harlow is fully grown, she has an interesting wardrobe and a lot of cool decorations for her nest. Each week we are able to add tasks for the daily grind and I’m over 40 at this point. The thing is, I’m doing most of my morning things without thinking, I forget to put in my hearing aids most days but I know to go back and get them so I can grow my finch a millimeter more. This is a wonderful app. Does anyone want to be my friend (Harlow 7Q9WR39BGK)

The Dark Days Are Over…

Let the terror begin.

Okay, melodramatic, I know.

Good news; I got a job. The fear of never being wanted or hire-able or useful for the rest of my life is waning. That doesn’t mean I won’t get fired again, or I won’t stick my foot in my mouth. I’d like to believe I have learned the lessons of my past.

Now my brain is tripping over the fear that I’ve forgotten how to draw blood. That I’m not going to be effective with old veins and get the blood I need to get. There are so many aspects of this that is driving me crazy, but if they are being truthful about the money, it should out weigh all the items on their phlebotomist to do list. I’m just panicking, like always.

I saw the new shrink. I was at the office for three hours, not all talking to someone, but he put me on a new anti-anxiety that’s supposed to help me sleep, and it does. Until 3:00am and then I’m wide awake again. I need to get up and do something, but alas. I don’t. I just put my story back on and lull myself into a light sleep I don’t want to wake up from. I’ve also moved my Wellbutrin from 200mg first thing in the morning to 100mg at morning and one at night. I’m not waking up with the absolute dread of the day and the long discussion and bargaining of “you just have to get out of bed and that’s it” conversations have stopped. I’ve noticed I’m ‘feeling’ more, which I haven’t decided if it’s a good or a bad thing.

I think Finch (@finch) is helping with that as well. I never had a digital pet before, I remember wanting one but they were too expensive. ($20). So, I’m going to stick with the program until I hit a wall. Hopefully it happens on a weekend so it won’t interfere with my new job. One of the things I talked to the doctor about was going back into therapy. I just need to sharpen a few tools, I think. But I can’t afford Ellen’s rates on unemployment. I should be able to afford her now. I hate the idea of having to break in and train a new therapist.

Thriving In Action

This is my mission statement for 2026:

One of my action items to prove to myself I’m thriving was to have quarterly get-your-ass-out-of-the-house things to do. My first one was Between the Lines. A play in Castro Valley, CA which was directed by a coworker at One Medical. It was a sweet story of a girl trying to fit in and the characters in a book who were refusing to let that happen. It was a sweet story that touched on some deeper subjects like the importance of fathers in their child’s life and a single-mother’s struggle when he doesn’t. The importance of friends and acceptance in life. But in general, it was fun, well thought out and staged. I walked away from the play lighter of heart and desperate to be able to see better.

Saturday, the 23rd. I singed up to go see Mandalorian and Grogu with a theater full of rabid Star Wars fans. People dressed up and strangers talked to strangers. I won a trivia book for all the Star Wars movies. I am a fan of anything space based, I realized. I loved the TV show The Mandalorian because I would come home from work exhausted and sit on my bed and watch and episode or three and Sammy, who was pissed off at me because I was gone the whole day, would sit on the bed and watch with me. Not cuddle, just watch. I think she had a crush on Grogu: he was small and green too. It endeared the show to me. And the violence. I do love me some fictional, unrealistic violence.

I’m already planning my third outing, I want to go to the opera for my birthday. My birthday being in the middle of the quarter. I can’t afford the choice tickets my friend used to buy but I’m going to go to a matinee on a Saturday and hope there will be tickets available for the cheap seats at cheaper than face value prices. There is Manon and Tosca coming up for that time frame. I’ve seen Tosca but not Manon. I’m looking for a CD player at thrift stores so I can prep by listening to the CDs. I don’t use a streaming service and I mostly listen to books in the car, so my life has been something of a musical desert. I love the way Opera makes me take deep breaths with the arias and then float away on the high notes. It’s very calming.

I realized I’m picking outings where we are all there for a uniform experience. I’m not really ‘socializing’ but going somewhere without someone is a really big step for me. My sisters don’t like musical theater and science fiction/fantasy doesn’t really interest them. The difference between the the first two is the opera will have alcohol, which adds a scary element in the mix for me. I really never figured out why. You just can’t trust people when they drink. There is no argument you can make that will make me believe otherwise. But we are all still there for a civilized cultural experience. My last one might need to be to a Faire (Ren, Dickens or Psychic) where everyone is doing what they want and I need to participate in something other than shopping. If I don’t get a job any time soon, I won’t be able to participate in anything at all. (Sigh).

I’m proud of myself. Even if these are baby steps compared to what my life used to be when I was younger and not terrified of the outside world. I’m happier and safer in bed, but that’s not how life is lived. It’s not how to thrive.

I Protest

Last Saturday, January 31, I actually left my room, stood on a corner, held a sign, and protested. I didn’t get shot, I didn’t get arrested and nothing more than people flipping me off happened. My response to those disapproving souls was to blow them a kiss.

My sign read –

Stop the devils servants. Justice for Good and Pretti!

A little more religious than I would like, but if men can murder innocent people and either curse their victim or run away, what else can you call them.? The happy part was there were more honks than fingers and more than 175 people crowded on the corner in front of a business profiting handsomely from the current administrations shinanigans.

I won’t deny I was afraid. Even though we don’t have ICE en masse in our city, but like I said in Right of Way I live in a community with a large immigrant population. What has been interesting since the protest, and the subsequent meeting after to learning about our software ‘EveryAction’, I am not crocheting like a woman on a mission. I’m still crocheting, but there isn’t this “Dear God, make it stop!” kind of screaming in my head when I do it. Doing something about it, protesting and volunteering, has staunched the bleeding from that particular open wound. I am still trying to figure out work in this economy as an older person and I’m scheduled for eye surgery next month all the while watching the totals on my credit cards mount exponentially. As trivial as ‘not manically crocheting’ sounds, it’s a blessed start.

In the back of my head I still hear the evil pixy telling me my miniscule action don’t really mean anything. My boycotting stores, my protesting in a mostly red community, my help with the membership team for TRAC Indivisible…all of it. I am insignificant, I’m useless, and nothing more than a floating dust mote in the political arena. I ignore the little malicious sprite and remember: The Right likes to compare my political personality to a snowflake. A snowflake is a delicate ice crystal that will melt if it’s not cold enough or if it comes into contact with any kind of warmth to be absorbed and forgotten into the earth. However, when snowflakes stick together they can have the force of an avalanche whose influence will for miles.

Right of Way

Learning is the best way to alleviate a lot of fear and dissipate procrastination, It’s just that simple.

I attended a meeting and call to action meeting last night. I was worried about filming at protests and obvious human rights violations. It addressed what my first amendment rights are and what they’re not. I can film any police action I want as long as I’m following all directions from the ICE Agents and police. I cannot do it on private property unless given express permission by the owner. I cannot post without the victim’s/victim’s family/victim’s lawyers permission. I totally agree with that. No one wants to watch a news program and see their loved one beaten by four or five jack-booted, fully armed men and then shot for wanting to help another victim of the terror squad. II know I wouln’t.

This hasn’t really alleviated all the fear of getting shot. I realize that is the purpose of the ICE Agents shooting random people, to intimidate the citizenry that obedience is security. If I learned anything from taking care of a raging narcissist is that no matter what you do, it’s NEVER GOOD ENOUGH. All the money in the world won’t be good enough. Every citizen on their knees when the powers that be enter a room won’t be good enough. Defiling every 16 year old virgin won’t be good enough. Me, as a citizen, will never be good enough. So, at some point you just have to say F*** IT. i am good enough and stand your ground.

I’m mot in Minnesota so the chances of me being shot are minimal. I do live in a farming community and interact with a lot of foreign people. I don’t know their status, I don’t ask. I don’t care. They are human, they aren’t criminals (as defined by the rhetoric of the powers that be), and they deserve respect. The same respect we demand as Americans when we enter their country. I keep asking myself “If the time comes, will I stand with them or let the wave of weaponized government sanctioned hate sweep them away. I want to believe, despite the anxiety and fear, that I will stand with and for them.

All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.

Thomas Jefferson

Beyond Surviving

When I’m not doing well, and especially when I was taking care of my mom, my morning prayers were a simple: Please get me through.  I never elaborated to Him or to myself what ‘through’ meant.  I just wanted to survive another day.  I’ve always wanted to just get through.  Sure, I have grand ideas, and I want more but I live small, mostly in fear that everything is going to disappear and I’ll have to start all over again.  This leads to hanging on to bad thing to long, not risking anything for fear the good thing ahead of me is a lie (because everything is a lie, after all) and I stagnate dreaming of being better.

I wrote out my New Year’s Resolutions yesterday and they were the normal fare I set out for myself each year.  A basic “do better” laundry list.  My theme, as stated in my last post is to “Move Forward”, but move forward to where?  Like a road trip, goals need a destination.

This is my destination….of course now, I need to rework my NYRs to help me THRIVE instead of just survive.

A New Dawn, A New Day And I’m Feeling

This is what I saw standing on the train platform this morning.  It brightened my spirit immensely.

New day+New month+New Year=New Year’s Resolutions!!!

Obviously, one resolution will be blogging more.  Reality has been bumping up against my perceptions (or delusions) and has been causing a boat load of issues I keep trying to crochet away.  It may not solve my problems but at least I end up with some pretty (or outrageously obnoxious) blankets to give away at Christmas.

Not only have I not been blogging, I’ve not been journaling either.  I have been writing or rather editing and reading my work…..imagining depths to the prose beyond the simple story to prop up my confidence to keep moving forward. 

Keep moving forward.  The theme for my new year.  Wish me luck!

Reflecting on Life: A Robin’s Journey to Freedom

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This isn’t my photo. I found it on BlueSky. It just spoke to me. The single branch swamped in dark water with a single red breasted robin on it’s arthritic finger. It is a story of rebirth, renewal and recovery from a dark and solitary life to the freedom of a bird to soar on the winds of time. Too dramatic? Possibly. I just really like this picture, it gives me hope.

The Cutest Ducklings Welcome Spring

A group of five ducklings swimming in a pond with rippling water reflections.

Spring has officially sprung when you see more ducklings in the pond than ducks. Happy Spring!

Eviction Day

Well, I did it. I finally finished the third book in my trilogy. I can now evict the people who have been squatting in my head for the last, what feels like, 100 years. The time differential between the time I wrote it (March 1 until April 8) feels like the whole eighteen months which elapsed on paper. I realize a lot of my anxiety from the pressure of time was from the fictional days flying off the imaginary calendar, not the real one. I wrote close to 500 pages in about 40 days. It’s both amazing and dumbfounding and makes me wish I could just sit and write for a living. Adventures in publishing awaits; Any advice?