Tag: Love

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.

As If & I Don’t Care

I was meandering through a journal entry yesterday. (Meandering is like a mash-up of free writing about a specific subject and stream-of-consciousness writing.) I wrote something that was both new and not new to me but I recognize it as my new norm. I was discussing the efficacy and practice of a mantra for love and worthiness.

I have come to the decision it doesn’t matter what I thing/feel/see when it come to my worth and, well, me. I am acting as if:

  • I’m worthy
  • I’m of value
  • I am talented
  • I am loveable
  • I am loved
  • I am sane

I wish I could act as if I was a size six but that would make me delusional. And I don’t want anti-delusional meds, so I won’t go there. 🙂 Or maybe instead of “As If” it’s more “I Don’t Care.” I don’t care what the evil pixie thinks of me, says to me or tries to trip me back into the darkness. I don’t care because I control my life. Yes, some days the pixie adds weight/dumbbells to my emotional baggage I carry around but I get through and continue to go towards my goals. I lament my speed and compare it to the speed I should/could be going if I wasn’t bogged down by the dead weight of my emotional dysfunction. I will continue to move forward one bag at a time, one inch at a time, one breath at a time.

Journal Entry from 06/06/26*

I keep waiting for ‘sanity’ to rise up and save me, I realize. Sanity isn’t a white knight to rush in an sweep me into the world of normalcy, like it’s a fairytale castle. I am the princess and the dragon in my own fable, I know that. I have the tools I amassed through therapy, and perhaps my shed could be larger for storage of the excess baggage I carry, but even with the baggage, I am not without the ability to tilt at my own monsters. When I get tired, and my guard is down, the pixie uses the shadows in my brain to creep up and discourage me. “As if” adds light to those times, but it still feels like I’m still giving the darkness power. “I don’t care” feels like the ball is in my court and though I might foul or make the basket, it is in my hands not in something else’s.

I have bee using a self-care app called Finch. It’s like Tomagachi (electronic pet from the 00’s) got it’s MFT in CBT. I’ve not been doing it long, Tuesday will be two weeks, but it’s simple. It allows me to track my mood and name my emotions when I need it and I can look back over weeks and see my progress. I’ve only told two people I’m doing it so I don’t have a lot (or any) friends on the app. Which is fine. My Finch’s name is Harlow. At night, just before I put my head down I do three minutes of breathing designed to help with sleep, and it does. I get up with a plan and I follow through because I want to mark everything off that list. But it is something you do every/other day/week/month kind of thing. I like it right now, so if you’re looking for something to help you track and prove you are just getting through some days, there is an app for that. If you join, please be my friend: 7Q9WR39BGK.

* My journal entries tend to jump from one thought to the next without grace, so please forgive if the quote seems a little jittery. I could have corrected it but that would defeat the purpose of quoting the journal.

I Protest Two

Today was No Kings III. For a small town (like under 100,000…I think) we had a mighty force of courageous and outraged citizens demonstrating. I worked mostly at the membership table. I know I can talk to people if there is something between me and them….a table, a bar on the chair, even glasses. That’s not saying I like doing it, but I know I can do it if it’s needed. I held a sign for about 30 minutes towards the end. I made it myself…”Stop Deranged Trump Syndrome”. I think there is a better word for syndrome for the message I was trying to get across, but it’ll do. I was forthright in getting people to sign in, get them to take a “Fabulously Fighting Fascism” sticker until we were out. I told them about drop cards and why, even if they’re old and white, they needed one.

This picture sums up my whole day. I don’t know her name, she sat in her chair, in the sun waving her flag at passing cars and refused to give up, or give in. My hero! I couldn’t hold a sign unless I was in the shade of a tree. I’ll get stronger, but she showed us all how it’s done.

Part of why I am doing this is to fight back the anxiety of unemployment, looming recession and because it is horrible out there, and if we don’t stop it, it’ll only get worse. This week I’ve been to a TRACC Indivisible membership meeting and a SURJ.org local circle meeting. The circle meeting asked questions of what we would be comfortable in doing, gaging where we need to focus on to be a better team and support system for those in the community. One was to be a decoy car with a Mexican flag when ICE is in the area to give people time to go home where the government can’t get to them. My first thought was NO! That’ll get me shot. Which is a valid concern with the untrained stormtroopers making life miserable in the towns they infest. But then the evil pixie pops up her spiky little head to ask, “Would that be a bad thing?”

Yes, you evil sprite, it would be a bad thing to be shot and killed before I am ready to leave the earth. Again, it’s the passive suicidality trying to reassert itself into a more prominent role in my life. And the depression, anxiety, passive suicidality and the pixie can rearrange the deck chairs all the want, but I still own the boat! I still decide when the ship sinks or float. And damnit, it is going to sail until it reaches the Elysian shores we’ve all been promised in our individual spiritual studies. It just bothers me that I’m not cured. I still have to tackle the darker elements to the mat every day. I know, I’ve had this for decades, probably my whole freaking life if you look back at Distraction I wrote my first suicide-esque note when I was barely double-digits. I’m hoping it’s not too late to make a life of what life I have left, but every time I try to get out, they pull me back in.

I’m constantly trying not to let the thoughts of failure, giving up, of wasting my life and all that entails bog me down. I’m trying to write, but the ever present need for an income keeps me distracted from the comforting pools of creation. I set the goal at the end of last week to go back to the basics….take meds, exercise, eat 3 meals a day, pray and read the scriptures. Anything else is gravy, as they say. And then I caught myself piling on more and more things every day and I shut down. After going to the SURJ and TRACC meetings on Thursday made me withdraw from the world on Friday. It was hard to engage with people today, but I had the safe space of a barrier (even if it is imagined) me and them.

I know this is sounds like a doggy-downer post, it’s not. I got up, even when I didn’t want to, and went to the protest. I accomplished that. I shared my opinion, my jokes and my stake story with strangers. I am moving forward, but just like the dragonfly in the chrysalis, it is a struggle to emerge a new and stronger creature. And I just want to be the promised dragonfly instead of in a constant lava state.

–

SURJ’ing Forward & on TRAC

These postcards represent my very first action in resisting. All four were sent to my senator, basically asking him if he would like his due process, freedom of speech and so on denied him. My point here is that I did it. It’s not holing a sign singing, chanting and marching, but I did it.

I’m a good talker about what’s wrong with the government (no matter who is in the oval office) but I’ve always believed when you deny any right to any person you are opening the door for those rights to be denied you. Benjamin Franklin, I believe, said:

Any man who gives up his freedom for security deserves neither freedom no security.

I love my freedoms, and I’m not going to let them go easily, I am going slow because I don’t want to terrify myself under the bed. So, I’ve been to two national call to action meetings (another one tonight) to unite against the tyranny and brutality in Minnesota. There is a national call to action to stand up against the companies in our neighborhood which are supporting ICE while they occupy any area….Target, Home Depot, and Hilton. Tomorrow, if you can, please don’t shop at them or if you’re traveling try not to stay in a Hilton property.

My new years resolutions requires me to see how far I can take each aspect of the two organizations I’ve adopted. TRAC Indivisible (Tracy Residents Action Coalition) which is within the Indivisible grass-roots organization. SURJ is Standing Up for Racial Justice, specifically White People Standing Up for Racial Justice. Theirs is the call to action for tomorrow. Within these two groups I need to do certain things like doing the postcards (done), going to a protest, doing call-banking, and actually going door to door to get my neighbors involved. I’ve done all of those things for jobs or charity work but I had something to hide behind. This is standing up for what I know is right and asking people to join me.

The goal for getting involved? Mostly to re-enter the world. It’s so easy to stay in my room, crocheting obsessively and repeating the mantra ‘everything will be okay in the end’. The end being when I’m dead and the worries of the world won’t trouble me any longer. I’ve also tasked myself to join a writing group and to join the church choir and see if loud makes up for talent.

In all honesty, I’m scared. I don’t want to be shot, I don’t want to be hurt and I don’t want to bring down any of that hell on my family. But, for me, it’s gotten to the point where doing nothing is no longer an option. So, here I am on the bleeding edge of action and I’m trying really, really hard to leave my room and jump.

The End is Nigh….or not.

The diaphanous veil between the living and the dead is getting thinner.  I can feel my father closer, my brother.  They are waiting.  I can’t really say this to my family because we’ve been saying “Mom won’t make the next XYZ” for the last 24 years. It’s gotten to the point where we won’t believe it until we see it.  And who knows how long a person can.

I want her to have a good end of life, but I don’t know how to bring that about.  She has a DNR, C. will make the final judgment if we need to turn off her machines and pacemaker. (there will be mighty discussions between the three of us girls before hand, it’s not just hers alone)  Her cremation is paid for, our plan to have a boat take us out to the Golden Gate Bridge or beyond to allow her to travel the way she never could in mortality.   I guess now it’s just a matter of all the family to make amends with their own soul and forgive grandma/great grandma and let her go being loved.  She wasn’t trying to hurt us, not consciously anyway.  She wanted what was best for us, even if what she wanted was skewed towards what she needed more, but truly is that her fault?  She relied on the way she was raised, and the pain she experienced on our side of the conversation must have been worse as she believes she wasn’t loved or wanted.  Mom wanted us, she loved us to the best of her ability and with the few tools she was given, and isn’t that all what we can do?  Holding someone to a standard you hold yourself to is just as unfair, lacking compassion and sincerely extremely selfish to the point of narcissism.  True narcissism isn’t something you choose, it’s not like fat where you can go on a diet and emerge a shadow of what you used to be….Narcissists don’t believe the need help or to change, the rest of the world should.  I wish I could take this understanding, acceptance and love and share this enlightenment I’ve been given to my family but I can’t, and even if I can will they have the frame of reference of the months past to understand it with.  Or the desire to truly forgive her and let her go?
The depression and the tentacle like grip the other accessory ailments has robbed me of the ability to feel a lot of feelings.  Well all feelings except anger.  With the containment and proper placement of that merciless flame  the other emotions are coming to the surface and I can say something I never thought I would be able to say.  I love my mother.  I started this journey hating her and silently planning her funeral like a mother plans her daughters wedding.  My biggest fear was that I would hum “Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead” in my pew at her funeral, now I’m not afraid to loose her, or my reaction to it, but mostly that I will be unable to take care of myself without her to remind me to eat, to wake me up when I fall asleep on the couch, to guilt me into cleaning up the house. (I know, I’m a grown up, for heaven sakes, I should be be doing that for myself already).
This feeling of love for my mother and the spiritual lifting I’ve had over the last several weeks makes me wonder if that’s why I am able to feel the veil so close.  The only thing you really take with you is your knowledge and your love.  Love you give is the silken strands that weave your body for the next life and the love you receive is the decoration.  Or so is my belief.
(I’m not saying my Mom is in the throws of dying, she’s not.  I do know her body is starting to give up and betray her in ways she never thought it could.  I’m just saying there are people waiting for her and I can feel their presence.  It could happen today (better not it’s my birthday and her sister already died on my birthday) or it could happen next week/month/year/decade etc.  My nephew J has a saying “At the end of time there will be Dick Clark (rip), Grandma and cockroaches.”  There are days when I look into her eyes and see the steel will to live and I actually start to believe that he isn’t far from wrong.)