Shaking off 2017

Shaking off 2017

Southern California experienced a small earthquake registering 3.1 centered near Ontario about 5:36 p.m. local time. This seems to me a very appropriate way to shake off a year that held a great deal of sadness, disappointment, frustration, anger, division, and a whole host of other emotions for many people. While I am aware that there are people who actually liked 2017, and that there were actually good elements and stories from 2017, this year for me has been mostly bad and I am looking forward to putting it and every year prior to it behind me.

January launched a new presidency, and with it, all the promises, good and bad, of a new administration. The agenda of the new administration is to derail every accomplishment of the Obama administration, including healthcare and net neutrality. The guiding force of this administration is hatred and division. Trump and his followers hate Obama. This cannot be disputed. While it can be debated that not all of Trump’s followers are racist, bigoted, and misogynistic, it cannot be debated that the one common thread they all hold is a hatred for Obama and they are willing to allow this hatred to completely undermine the sanctity of the presidency and all that it stands for. His supporters have become a brainwashed group of lemmings turning a blind eye to Trump’s numerous golf trips, outrageous statements, excessive tweets, unhinged ramblings, and war against the poor. 2018 needs to see democracy at its finest with record voter turnout, particularly by the marginalized.

On February 16^th, a speeding, distracted driver failed to realize that the light was red and vehicles were not in motion. His actions caused a great deal of trouble for persons in two cars, especially for someone I love whose life is likely to never be the same. He has been in constant pain and discomfort, with developing problems ever since this accident and another similar accident in May, in which I was the driver and we were again rear-ended at a red light. Drivers really need to pay attention. Get off your fucking cell phones and other electronic devices and look at the fucking road in front of you! Do not run red lights and stop signs. Pay attention or get off the fucking road!

In March, my oldest daughter turned 18 and shortly afterward decided to move in with her father. I can probably count on one hand how many times I have seen her since then, even though her grandmother was dying of Alzheimer’s. She didn’t even go to the rosary or the funeral service. Despite the fact that I spent hundreds of dollars to send her on three conference trips for HOSA (Health Occupations Students of America) to Sacramento and Anaheim, special clothing and supplies and unending encouragement in her endeavor to be a doctor (even though I knew the actual likelihood of being a doctor was slim due to learning and emotional problems), she is telling people that I tried to kill her. This could not be further from the truth. The incident she refers to occurred while I was driving and she was fighting with her younger sister. After numerous times telling them to be quiet, I yelled “shut the fuck up!” She proceeded to call me a whore because I slept with her father (whom I was married to) more than once and had more than one child. In my attempt to smack her in the mouth, I missed and hit her in the neck. I do not advocate violence and I am sorry that I missed her mouth and hit her in the neck, but I think most people can agree that she was way out of line even if they can’t agree that attempting to smack her in the mouth was the appropriate reaction.

April, May and June were, for the most part, the best part of 2017 for me. In April, I auditioned to be in Annie after 22 years of not really doing any theatre except for teaching/directing. I had been largely discouraged during my 14-year marriage and had not ventured to do anything I was previously told “no” to since being freed from this marriage. I was cast and had a great deal of fun rehearsing and performing in this musical for the third time in my life. I cannot pass the month of May though without noting the unfortunate suicide of a musical great, Chris Cornell.

In July, we lost another musical great, Chester Bennington. While I did not know Chris Cornell or Chester Bennington personally, I loved their contribution to music and their music, as well as their magic, will be forever remembered. Someone I did know personally also passed in July, very near the time of Chester’s death. Her name is Shay Rogers. She and I used to work together many years ago and she was a delightful person to be around. I will always remember her for giving me tickets to see numerous races at Irwindale Speedway. Leukemia took her way too early and left two children without their mother.

In August, I began working as a privately contracted music instructor, an occupation that I never thought I would have. My father told me I would never make any money with music. My ex-husband seemed to share that belief. I had pretty much hung up any notion of doing music as anything more than a mere hobby and I had completely given up on being on stage.

In September, I lost my mother to Alzheimer’s. Just typing these words brings tears to my eyes. I had tears in my eyes this morning too as I thought about my mother while I took a shower. Today was not really a good day for me as I have been recovering from the flu and did not feel very well today. To add insult to injury, I was unable to take flowers to my mom’s gravesite for Christmas because of the flu and I felt guilty that as of today, I still hadn’t made it to her gravesite. I hope to go tomorrow. Her service was held in October and her birthday would have been in November, which brings us to December.

On the whole, this month was a pretty good month, even with the flu. If anything, the flu afforded me an opportunity to take a break and rest. I have been going non-stop for the past two and a half years and I needed to be able to just do nothing but watch television and rest. I came up with an idea for a Disney movie during this time. I may have been delusional, and this idea may be delusional, but what Disney movie isn’t a little delusional? Before catching the flu, I saw the hottest musical of the decade, Hamilton (unfortunately, this is probably where I caught the flu). The worst part of the month was not the flu, but the decision to let my youngest and only son go live with his father. This decision did not come easily, but came from the desire to not have him be in the middle of a bitter custody battle and to honor his wishes. I have always tried to do what was in the best interest of my children. I have been far from perfect in this endeavor, but when it came to them spending time with their father, I have only once interfered and it was because of the crap their father was telling them about me (he still does talk a lot of trash).

This year has had some ups and a lot of downs, but it has taught me some things. I have learned that fear is the only thing standing in my way now. I have overcome fear at times to do things I wanted to do like Annie. I have learned that my naysayers no longer have any power over me. I learned they never should have had any. I realized that I have lost a lot of friends over the years because they have moved away and forgot about me, while I never forgot about them. I have come to expect that, but moving forward, I am going to just forget about them too. In the event that I ever get lucky and become famous for writing or something and they come out of the woodwork, I will definitely forget them. The only people that will matter going forward will be the people who have always been there for me. These are the only people who should ever matter. This year, like every year before it, is behind me. There were lessons to be learned that should be carried into the new year, but the years themselves are gone. Out with the old, in with the new.

A Better Life

A Better Life

I guess when you call Santa a Republican, you can expect a lump of coal for Christmas, or perhaps the flu. When I wrote “If Santa is Real, He’s a Republican,” I thought my dry cough was perhaps just allergies because I forgot to take my allergy medicine the day before. I had also ignored my achiness that morning because I am achy every morning, some mornings more than others. Christmas morning would prove me wrong. For Christmas, I got the flu.

I have been relatively bed ridden and house bound for about three and a half days. In an effort to contain the disease as much as possible, and also because I hurt too much to move anyway, I spent the majority of this time in bed. Since this entry is not intended to be about how awful the flu is, I will just summarize by saying that I was absolutely miserable in every way, ran a fever ranging from 100 to 103 and was too delirious to do anything more than eat, drink, and binge watch television shows. I left the house only to go to the doctor and the pharmacy on Tuesday and again to the pharmacy yesterday.

While having the flu forced me to have to cancel a week’s worth of appointments and will cause me to have to wait until February to see my rheumatologist, in the end, it was worth it. I was honestly not going to get a break any other way. Yes, I would have preferred a much less miserable vacation, but a vacation is simply not possible for me. I have been going non-stop for two and a half years now. Every day I have something to do. When I try to take time for myself to get my hair or nails done, get a massage or simply even to eat, I am disturbed (see “Things Fall Apart” in my other blog When Parents Grow Old and Get Crazy). The flu was the universe’s way of giving me permission to rest.

I began to feel a little better yesterday. Today, I decided I could begin to do a little more and incorporate myself back into the world a little more. I began by watering just the back yard. While I was watering, I thought about my old dog, Wyatt. He was actually my brother’s dog (I was never allowed to have a dog, just my brother), but my brother didn’t take care of him, so he became my parent’s responsibility. He lived in the back yard his entire life. My brother got him drunk once and poor Wyatt puked everywhere. My dad used to sit on the patio and hit him with the fly swat. I would play with him, talk to him and feed him my leftovers (assuming that my leftovers were not pork or something that would make him sick). He likely associated my brother with abandonment, my father with fly swats and me with play and food. When he died, I felt bad that his life wasn’t better and that he hardly ever saw anything besides his yard and his dog house. I felt the same way after my mother died.

My mother was born and raised in Mississippi. Growing up, she was always poor. Alcoholism, drug addiction, smoking, mental health issues, marital problems and abusive husbands were common within her immediate and extended family. So, the fact that she smoked for half her life, had mental health issues and married two abusive husbands is not that surprising given her circumstances growing up. She was a beautiful woman when was young, though. She was intelligent until Alzheimer’s stole her mind. She could have done so much better. Her life should have been better.

I broke the cycle of being stuck with an abusive husband. I have a new cycle I wish to break. I don’t want to die wishing that I had lived my life better. For the rest of this year, I am going to rest. I am going to finish getting better. I am going to take a freaking break. In the new year, I am going to live my life better. I am going to take better care of myself. I am going to work harder to get what I want. I am going to learn to tell people no. I am going to start delegating minor responsibilities. I am going to learn to be more efficient in taking care of the responsibilities that I do have to tend to. I am going to manage my time better. I am also going to take breaks, even if it means turning my phone off and pissing off a few people. They get breaks. Why shouldn’t I?

Some people want to leave behind a legacy. They want to “build something that’s gonna’ outlive [them]”. While this would be nice too, I am willing to settle for at least living my life well. At this point, I have spent half my life living well and half my life in some modern adaptation of Tale of Two Cities (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...”). I only have one more quarter left. I cannot afford to waste all of this time not living my best life possible.

References:

Dickens, Charles. Tale of Two Cities. 1859.

Miranda, Lin-Manuel. Hamilton. 2016.

If Santa is Real, He's a Republican

If Santa is Real, He’s a Republican

Over time, the Buddha has remained a symbol of peace, compassion, tranquility and love. The four noble truths and the eightfold path has never changed and Buddha has never wavered in his pursuit of nirvana through the eightfold path. The same has been relatively true for the Dalai Lama. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for our view of who Jesus is, or for who Santa is.  On the eve of Christmas, when Santa is supposedly flying all over the world in a sleigh pulled by reindeer, I wish to opine why the myth of Santa Claus should have been left on the folklore shelf a long time ago.

When my children were babies, I wish that my husband at the time would have shared my view that the myth of Santa should be shared as merely a work of fiction. In time, children grow up and realize that Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are all fictional and they begin to wonder how much of what we tell them is actually true. If you have a father like mine, who has spent so much of his adult life telling lies that in his old age he can no longer remember what is even true anymore, you are even more so skeptical of what is true. In the event that you attempted to raise your children as Christians, your perpetuation of the myth of these fictional characters potentially places your children’s faith in God in danger.

Most parents wish for their children to be honest. Why then, do we lie to our children? Sure, there will be times when telling a little white lie might be necessary for their own benefit, but I fail to see how telling them that Santa is real is going to be at all beneficial unless you are wealthy and your children are incurious and dull.

The astute child, in time, will realize the improbability of flying reindeer that are able to navigate a large enough sleigh to carry a portly old man and millions of presents all over the world in a single night. Furthermore, this rotund old man has to be able to shimmy down multiple chimneys quietly in order to leave presents. I wish to be a fly on the wall of the Christian home that tries to explain that this is all possible through magic while at the same time explaining why magic is supposedly bad.

Beyond the impossibilities and contradictions of trying to pass this myth off as true is the harsh reality of inequality. If Santa is real, then he is a Republican. He does not favor the unemployed, the unfortunate, or the poor. He delivers more presents to the wealthy families than he does to the less affluent ones, and still others receive no presents at all. Wealthy children are not necessarily better behaved than poor children, and yet they receive more presents. How do you explain to poor children that behaved all year that Santa favors the wealthy kids more than he does them?

Yes, my opinion is based in leftist ideology, but it does not originate in someone who has always been poor. Quite the opposite is actually true. I have been on both sides of the economic fence over the course of my lifetime, but I have always been acutely aware of inequality. I knew there were children who received fewer presents than me when I was a child, and now that I am an adult with children of my own, I, as well as my children, know children personally who would not receive anything at all if not for the kindness of others. Children should be aware of this reality. Their parents should get the credit for anything they receive, not a mythical being. The parents are the ones who worked hard, went shopping, wrapped presents, etc., not Santa. They should know that individual circumstances control how packed the Christmas tree is, not favoritism. They should be aware that other children are not as lucky as they are. What better way to teach gratitude?

Net Neutrality and the Politics Pendulum

Net Neutrality and the Politics Pendulum

I joined Facebook and Twitter in July 2009. While a great deal has changed in my life since then, I have admittedly not noticed too many great changes in my access to either Facebook or Twitter. I cannot recall when I first used You Tube or first subscribed to Netflix, but I have experienced a few price increases with Netflix. I imagine this is what it will be like with the repeal of Net Neutrality. Since Internet Service Providers (ISPs) are no longer required to treat all content providers (Facebook, Twitter, You Tube, Netflix, etc.) equally and can logistically charge some content providers more due to volume or bandwidth demand, there is a possibility that the price of Internet access will increase as well as the cost of certain services such as Netflix. We have enjoyed Net Neutrality for a mere two years now and I can assure you that Netflix has already gone up in price in that time and will likely do so again. The underlying problem is greed. Internet Service Providers and content providers alike wish to make more money and charge higher premiums. The latest decision to repeal Net Neutrality makes this easier for them to do and pads the pockets of the already wealthy. This, unfortunately, is the political climate that we are in until we hopefully do something to reverse this direction in future elections. At the moment, what used to be indirectly a theocracy has become an oligarchy, with big money and big corporations at the top of the leaderboard. Ajit Pai, the villain of Net Neutrality, is a former Verizon executive whose primary role in this game is to repeal Net Neutrality, which he has done. Ahead of this victory, he ended subsidies and programs which made Internet affordable and accessible to low-income individuals. That said, the price of Internet service, as well as the price of content such as Netflix and Hulu are going to go up in price anyway, regardless of whether or not we have Net Neutrality. If we learned anything in Economics class, it is that supply and demand, as well as inflation, drives up costs. The added element of greed drives the cost up even further. The larger issue is whether this repeal will affect access to information.

If the repeal of Net Neutrality results in the increase of price for Internet service or specific services, then the access to these services will be limited to those persons who can afford them, leaving the less affluent in the dark. While it may be true that this could potentially limit access to the less affluent because Internet could become less affordable, it is not necessarily true that information will be more censored (it already is censored) or that speeds will be slowed for any reason. Content providers like Twitter, Facebook, Netflix, etc. can already afford to continue the speed of the service they provide. It will be up to the consumer to afford the more premium packages (note: these ‘packages’ will not include separate costs for each content item as believed by some) that will deliver the same level of Internet access they presently receive. It is worth noting that the potential increase in cost for Internet access, as well as the potential for different Internet packages, is still hypothetical and would likely be gradual. Also hypothetical is the fear that actual access to information will be censored, even for those persons who can afford the premium packages. I am sure that the oligarchy would love nothing more than to censor the information that we have access to, or censor our ability to coordinate online, but the reality is, they already do.

Recently, my daughter used her school computer to research depression and suicide. Exactly one day later, I find myself in the counselor’s office. Not too long after this debacle, my son has a history project to do, but is unable to use his school computer to research the Battle of Yorktown because it contains the word “battle”. Just as school districts are able to spy on our students’ search histories and prevent them from looking up certain things or accessing certain websites, our government can and does do the same already. They have been doing this for years, hence the need for whistleblowers like Edward Snowden, who ousted the government for this practice back in 2013, two years before Net Neutrality. Net Neutrality came to be for a number of reasons, including this leak of information by Snowden. The average consumer is upset about the repeal of something that made no difference to them prior to 2015, and amongst these consumers are people who are either divided about or in favor of indicting Snowden. Second, Net Neutrality did not significantly increase our access to information, but it may have made our access to that information more secure. Third, believe it or not, there was a time when the Internet itself did not exist. Yet, despite the lack of the Internet, we were still able to access information, in much the same way that my son was still able to research the Battle of Yorktown for his history project. The oligarchy is not large enough or strong enough to overpower the will of the majority, which we still are. They may have repealed Net Neutrality without the vote of the majority, but they cannot continue to control the future. They cannot keep us from reading books or from educating ourselves. They cannot keep us from organizing. They cannot prohibit us from gaining access to Internet through a variety of methods, including some of those methods that have been shared on Twitter since the repeal of Net Neutrality. They have failed to censor Edward Snowden or the recommendations he has made for safer usage (such as The Tor Project). They can make it difficult for us to vote, but ultimately, they cannot stop us, just as we saw in Alabama.

The politics pendulum has been swinging back and forth since George Washington resigned and will continue to swing back and forth. Right now we are in the midst of a giant upswing on the Republican side with the lowest approval rate and the highest percentage of greedy deplorables of any administration in history. What happens when the pendulum swings high on one side? What are we doing with our time to prepare for the next upswing? Merely complaining about the present upswing does not adequately prepare us for what happens next. There is work to do.

The repeal of Net Neutrality is not the end of the world, but it is not good news either. Net Neutrality equalized fairness to individual content providers, increased access to consumers, and improved security and access to information. The repeal, like Trump’s election, was not secured by a popular vote, but by a much more sinister movement in politics, government, education and media. Some people are merely accepting and succumbing to voter suppression, government lies, party loyalty and deliberate attempts by Trump and his administration to delegitimize the media and jeopardize the freedom of press.  They are just accepting that this is the way it is. They are tired of hearing the comparisons to George Orwell’s 1984. The oligarchy wants you to be tired. They are succeeding with these people. We still have access to information and should be spending our time educating ourselves and protecting our democracy. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights were written in order to ensure and protect our democracy, yet it seems like not too many people are even familiar with what either of those documents say or why they were written the way they were. Our displeasure at the separation of church and state, which was put in place for a reason, gave way to a theocracy, which gave way to party loyalty, which ushered in our present oligarchy. Our own apathy is at fault.

If there were no Internet, or if Internet were somehow severely impacted by the repeal of Net Neutrality (which I do not see being the case since we had very few complaints about our access prior to 2015), I would have a great deal more time to read, write, and create, and when elections came, I would vote.

Late Night Insomnia Musings

Late Night Insomnia Musings

(written the night of Wednesday night / Thursday morning)

I thought being tired at 8:30 tonight was a sign that I was getting old. I quickly got over that and went to bed early anyway.

Four hours later, I was still awake. I had heartburn and flatulence. Emergency personnel had a busy night too, as there were numerous sirens rushing to and fro in the four hours I tried to sleep.

I turned off the Christmas lights, went to the bathroom and then proceeded to scroll through Facebook. I was going to make a comment on some post about national parks like Yosemite and Joshua Tree being more expensive to get into, but then I realized the thread was filled with a bunch of Republicans blaming Liberals for the increase. I’m going to leave that at that and say this is why we can’t have nice things.

This deciding not to engage in a hostile territory got me to thinking about AOL and chat rooms. We would bounce in and out of chat rooms looking for people to connect with and sometimes we would end up in hostile territory. We would enter a room and test the vibe for a minute before deciding whether to engage. What happened to chat rooms? It seems like the new way to connect with people is through conflict. We can post or like stuff all day long on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook, but it is seemingly only drama and conflict which evokes discussion, and generally not amicable or constructive discussion. I want to chat with people productively. I want to chat with people about Hamilton or the random shit that goes through my head at midnight. I do not want to be vulnerable to attack just because I said that if rates at national parks increase, I will likely never see Yosemite or Joshua Tree.

I have had a very busy week. I began the week with an energy deficit caused by a three-day battle with endometriosis. I was extremely busy yesterday (Tuesday), going non-stop from 6:30 a.m. to about 7 p.m. I woke up this morning (Wednesday morning) at 5 a.m. to start my day. I am not tired because I am old. I am tired because I am tired and all the heartburn, flatulence, emergency sirens and insomnia aren’t helping the cause.

Upon publishing this musing on Thursday, my tummy problems never got any better. I am ending the week with a whole new energy zapping predicament. Yay! Bring on Christmas break, please.

Topsy-turvy Land

Topsy-turvy Land

This morning, my son came into my bedroom with a (relatively new) tube of toothpaste and asked if there was another tube already opened. I replied, “that one is open, isn’t it?” He checked it, said yes, and walked off. A few minutes later, he reappeared and said that his dad had got him to brush his teeth. I responded that I have asked him many times to brush his teeth, but he never listens to me. “Yeah, but you don’t yell at me or lecture me for an hour about why I need to brush my teeth,” he said. I asked him, “Really? That’s what you want? Someone to yell at you and lecture you?”

Two out of three of my children have chosen their father over me. He is constantly criticizing me to our children, while I rarely do that to him. They all agree that he yells too much, while I hardly ever yell. He lectures, while I prefer to use a more pragmatic approach which explains consequences of not doing what I asked. Despite these personality differences, and despite psychological research which tells us not to yell, lecture and demean, two out of three of my children prefer exactly that.

Human behavior is never going to be an exact science. We can research behavior and responses to various stimuli forever and never come any closer to understanding people. Decades of evolution and progress has not really brought us very far. Two of my children need to be yelled at and lectured. Racism is still rampant throughout the world. Government at the local and national level is run by sexual predators, pedophiles, racists and inexperienced cronies. As a nation, we have gone backwards. Just as we were making progress with affirmative action, cultural appropriation, cultural sensitivity, and women’s rights, we have begun to once again normalize racism, sexism, and mediocrity. One third of Americans get their proverbial panties in a bunch when you bring this to their attention. One third of my readers have either already stopped reading this entry once I got past the story about my son, are wondering why they didn’t stop reading when the other lemmings stopped reading, or are going to read to the end in spite. This is the state of our nation, though. We live in Topsy-turvy world. Here it is OK to yell at your children, talk bad about their mother and lecture them. They like it. It’s alright to be a racist bigot. There are many others just like you who also hate people of color. There used to be a time when getting a blow job by an intern would get you impeached, but if you are a wealthy Republican celebrity, it will get you elected, and then you can endorse a pedophile. As children, we are taught that only the best and the brightest get to be President. We look up to our local and national leaders. The global respect and admiration for the president is now gone. The world does not take Donald Trump seriously and two-thirds of Americans don’t either. Local and national government has become a running joke instead of something to be desired and aspired to.

The Vice President’s son at my former place of employment told me that I should “stick with my own race and age group”. Such comments, in tandem with the aforementioned predatory behavior of our local and national leaders and their blatant racism, would have at one time resulted in termination of employment. Instead, it resulted in the termination of my employment. To get ahead in Topsy-turvy land, you have to yell and lecture. You have to demean, demoralize, and exploit women and persons of color. We are currently playing an endless game of “opposite day” that I am not sure we will ever be able to completely stop and reverse when we finally wake up.

Haters: Bend, Break or Blow Them Away

Haters: Bend, Break or Blow Them Away

Three days ago I tweeted the following: “You’re gonna’ have haters. Mine are mostly in my own family. You can either bend to what they say about you, or you can prove them wrong.” Besides myself, my worst critics are my father and my brother, followed by all of the idiot family members who actually believe the shit they say. Every day I wish my circumstances were different. I wish I had more confidence. I wish I had pursued music and theatre instead of continually trying to get a “real job”. I wish I were successful enough to tell my family to kiss my ass. Unfortunately though, I married the wrong person (who is also amongst my worst critics) and ended up with the mess I have now. On the upside, as I have noted in previous blog entries, I was there for my mom when she needed me in her final years, which is more than my father or my brother can say. If anything had gone the way I had planned, I wouldn’t have been there for her.

As I have noted in previous blog entries, I have been the primary caretaker for my mother and my father for the past 2 ½ years, making it difficult for me to hold a traditional full-time job. In the first year, we went through more caretakers than Taylor Swift has boyfriends. We even had one caretaker steal from us. Any time there was a problem with one of my parents or their caretaker(s), I was the one who had to handle it. Sometimes this meant that I was late for work. Sometimes this meant I didn’t make it to work at all. Sometimes I had to leave work for a little while to handle whatever it was. No employer in their right mind is going to keep such an employee. I even began keeping a log of every time this happened so that my brother could see that it happens at least once a week. I thought he understood finally. I guess not.

My former employer was a small company comprised largely of Caucasian, Republican Christians and Catholics. The Vice President’s son told me after seeing me out to lunch with a Mexican that I should “stick with my own race”. I did. I am not a Republican and I don’t attend church. As noted before, I sometimes had to inconvenience my employer by having to deal with my parents or their caretaker issues. So, take your pick as to which of these reasons they might have let me go. I believe them all to be viable, but my brother maintains I must have done something wrong. I did my best. Even with the aforementioned issues, I still had better attendance than almost everyone at this company and I definitely had a better work ethic, but I must have done something.

I went back into musical theatre back in April, performing in Annie. This led to an opportunity to teach music in a local school district. I have been self-employed doing music and theatre since April. I have told my brother and my father repeatedly that I am working. Yet, despite this fact, my brother tells people that I am lazy and don’t want to work. He tells people that I just want to hang out with Peter (name changed) and do drugs. My father tells people that he doesn’t know what I do all day because I don’t work and I don’t feed my kids. He used to tell people that I abused him. They frequently treat me as though these things are actually true about me and as though I do not have a job to get to or be at.

Wednesdays are my busiest day. Wednesday has been my busiest day since September. My brother was at the house one Wednesday in September when I returned from work, dressed for work, carrying a bag full of music books and other musical equipment and a guitar at nearly 8 p.m. Yet, he seems to still forget that I am employed. He, like my father, is still in denial. They are so busy pumping up their own egos that it is inconceivable to them that I am actually a good person who did more for them than anyone and who is now employed doing exactly what my father told me years ago I would never make any money doing.

My alarm clock went off at 5:30 this morning. I did not want to wake up. I got up at 6:00 and wondered how the hell I was going to make it through today. I was so tired. I could not see how I could make it through a Wednesday when I was already so tired at the beginning of the day. I got ready anyway. I took my kids to school. I bought a triple latte. I went back to the house to finish getting ready. I went to an appointment at 9:00 a.m. and when I was done, I had to go buy things my dad needed because he refused to let the caretaker go get these things. This left me with 30 minutes to spend with Peter while shopping for the things my dad needed. I took a B vitamin. I picked up my son at 12:30, fed him and myself, picked up my daughter at 2:00 p.m. and then returned home to change for work. When I arrived at the house, the caretaker was telling me my dad wanted to go visit someone whose husband just died, but she needed to check with me first. He wanted to go visit my aunt, whose husband died several years ago. I know where this aunt lives and maybe he does, but the caretaker needs an address because she doesn’t know where she’s going. I texted my brother. He answered nearly 2 hours later. In the meantime, I used a chain of people to get the information to the caretaker while driving to work. At work, my foot was run over by a computer cart. Hours later, it still hurts. After work, I bought burritos for my dad and dinner for the rest of us. Being as I fed my kids twice in this account of my day, I fail to see where I don’t feed my kids as my dad says. I work, so they can’t say that I don’t and be truthful. The only drugs I do are those prescribed to me for chronic pain (Rheumatoid Arthritis, Scoliosis, Spondylosis, Endometriosis) and anxiety. My brother frequently smokes pot. I don’t care. I don’t see anything wrong with that. I do see something wrong with someone who tells lies about his sister.

I gave up on my father a long time ago. I take care of him, but I wish I didn’t have to. His behavior is not a condition of his age. He has always been a pathological liar. I tried to have a good relationship with my brother because I didn’t have a good relationship with my other brother. My brother is the one who chose to not have a good relationship with me. He likes to treat me like I’m the burden on the family, but my parents bought him multiple cars, paid his insurance in his younger years, helped him buy a house in Arizona and another house for his son in Texas, gave his son their car and donated money to a campaign for an office he never ended up running for. Everything I have ever borrowed money from my parents for, I have paid back. So, who is the mooch? My brother unfriended me on Facebook because I would have voted for Bernie Sanders if he had made it to the ballot. My brother tells people I am lazy and don’t want to work when I am employed. My brother tells people I do drugs. What he doesn’t tell people is that I took care of our parents while he travelled the world, sometimes on business, sometimes for pleasure. He doesn’t tell people that I have not had a vacation in 2 ½ years. He doesn’t tell people that he hardly ever comes around. He doesn’t tell people the truth.

On top of all this, I am dealing with problems with my ex-husband and my daughter. My ex-husband doesn’t want to pay more in child support. He has barely paid anything as it is. In the wake of the Department of Child Social Services ordering that he pay more, and just a few months after my mother’s death, my ex-husband is suing for custody of the children and continuing to besmirch me. He has been doing so to his children for the past 5 ½ years. Now he is telling the same lies to the court. My daughter meanwhile is struggling with depression and anxiety, two things I know plenty about. Her troubles escalate when she is around him because he is always yelling at her and criticizing her. She needs to be with me. My brother has one adult child. He doesn’t have to deal with these sorts of issues with his ex or his children. He doesn’t have to deal with our father’s craziness every day. He doesn’t have to deal with people, particularly his own family members, talking shit about him. I could use a break. I could use a vacation. I could use a full 24 hours free of having to be responsible for someone. I could use some sleep.

I refuse to bend. I will not be broken. I am going to maximize my time and my potential. I am going to get some sleep, and in the morning, I am going to embark on yet another day in which I beat all of the odds that stand against me. Again.

Last Year Was My Last Thanksgiving, but It Was Not My Last Time Giving Thanks

Last Year Was My Last Thanksgiving, but It Was Not My Last Time Giving Thanks

Seventeen years ago today, I was given a reason besides the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade to like Thanksgiving. Fourteen minutes after midnight on Thanksgiving Day, November 23, 2000, my daughter was born. Prior to this day, I hated Thanksgiving. With the exception of the parade and my daughter, I still do. I have tried over the course of my lifetime to at least pretend I like Thanksgiving. Like answering “fine” when people ask you how you are, it is the simple, expected response. No one really wants to hear the truth.

Five years ago, Thanksgiving dinner became my responsibility. My ex-husband had left the picture and was in Missouri. I never really cooked much before I became a single mother of three, and now I was having to cook dinner every night and prepare these huge meals three times a year (Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas). One year, my dad decided to throw one of his famous fits and refused to eat the Easter meal I had prepared. I retaliated by refusing to prepare Thanksgiving dinner that year. Until this year, I had not ever really thought about how my mom did this for decades, almost entirely by herself, with minimal complaining. She had put up with him and his childish behavior for decades as well. This year, I decided I had had enough.

My kids always take off to spend Thanksgiving with their dad and his family, leaving me to juggle dinner schedules. My mom is no longer with us and my dad’s temperament gets worse and worse each day. My brother and his wife came by today to take him to dinner because I was not going to prepare one. He refused to go. He and I ended up eating burritos today. I don’t care. I was going to prepare a Thanksgiving feast sometime next week, but now I have decided that I will just save it for Christmas. I hate Thanksgiving and aside of the need to make the reason why easier for everyone else, I might as well just throw in the towel now. There’s no need to cook for an ungrateful, crotchety old man who barely eats anything anyway and children that aren’t even around.

Thanksgiving, at its core, is a made-up holiday with dubious origins. The most widely accepted account of the First Thanksgiving is that it was celebrated around 1620 or 1621 in praise of a good harvest and that Native Americans were invited. Over 200 years later, Abraham Lincoln made it an official holiday. Historical records do not indicate for certain whether the fare in the 1600’s or the 1800’s consisted of turkey and all of our traditional side dishes. It seems like these side dishes have increased over the years, as has the list of acceptable desserts. By the end of the day, we could have eaten any combination of turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, vegetables, dinner rolls or biscuits, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, apple pie, pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie and drank copious amounts of beer, wine and/or mixed drinks. Then we remark how stuffed we are while watching football and eating snacks. Thanksgiving is a celebration of gluttony at its finest. It also completely ignores the section of history where English immigrants subjugate an indigenous people, take over their land, kill their people, rape their women and begin a centuries-long tradition of continuing to treat them as though they’re the intruders.

So, here’s the truth. I will not be fixing any more Thanksgiving meals in the future. If my father wants one, he is going to have to bury the hatchet with his son and go get one. My mother was the best actress I know. She played the role for decades and never once broke character. I’m not that strong. There are only three things worth salvaging from Thanksgiving and one of them has absolutely nothing to do with Thanksgiving: my daughter. The other two salvageable traditions are the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade and the act of giving thanks itself.

All this month I have posted on Facebook things I am grateful for: people who are not part of the problem, Caramel Brulee Lattes, my wonderful mom, for getting 10 more years with my mom than my mom had with her mom, for being by my mom’s side as she struggled with Alzheimer’s, for creativity, that I have a car, that tomorrow can always be a better day, that I am not struggling like those in Puerto Rico, that music keeps me too busy for social media and makes me money, for military men and women, for good fortune at Morongo, for days of rest, that I’m not a blonde on days when I don’t have time for makeup, that I’m only a little scary without makeup, for employment, that I’m not as crazy as the cuckoo lady dancing in the street, for overall good health, carne asada, fast food restaurants who sell breakfast all day, music, hearing, ability to listen to and create music, technological progress which has increased access to music, air conditioning and my daughter, whose birthday is today. Gratitude is a worthwhile practice. We can easily get bogged down with everything that is wrong in the world or with everything that is wrong with our own lives that we forget to be grateful for the things that are good. Gratitude can ease depression and anxiety a little. Gratitude can offer hope. Gratitude can put things into perspective. Thanksgiving can be a great time to remember to be grateful, as can the whole month of November, but why wait? There are sparks of joy, fortune, blessing, etc. all year long. Be grateful for those moments in the moment and in the moments in which your heart sinks so deep into your chest that it feels like it’s trying to choke the life out of you itself. You don’t need a special holiday to be grateful for these things any more than you need a special holiday to eat turkey or pumpkin pie or to get together with your family.

Dirty Little Secrets: Opioid Epidemic, Pain Mgmt. and Insurance Companies

The letter below is a letter that I wrote to my insurance company as part of both a grievance and a state hearing that I filed. This past April, I decided to give acupuncture a try to deal with my chronic pain issues. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, Scoliosis, Spondylosis, Endometriosis and chronic tension headaches and migraines. Pain appears in different areas of my body throughout every single day of my life. I wake up each morning with stiff joints and muscles that must be stretched and warmed up in order for me to even be mobile. Sometimes when I have been sitting for a long period of time, I have to stretch out my muscles and joints just so I can move again. Because this process is painful and time-consuming, I sometimes will just stay standing if I know that I will be getting up again soon anyway. My body tends to work best under the premise that a body in motion tends to stay in motion.

In addition to living with daily pain, I subsist on a daily diet of pain medication each day as well. Occasionally I will supplement my usual pain medication with herbal medication. My use of the herbal medication draws more controversy than my use of opiates or high doses of ibuprofen, which are more socially acceptable, and are appropriate for use at any time, unlike the use cannabis. Unlike opiates and ibuprofen however, cannabis is an effective anti-inflammatory medication with multiple health benefits and fewer long-term side effects. In addition to these pain management methods, I have attempted to cut back on sugar and other inflammatory foods, which I have found to be quite effective as well.

This entry isn’t about cannabis, however. Admittedly, while I use it occasionally, I am not at all a regular partaker. This entry is about an effective means of pain management that is undervalued among medical professionals and insurance companies: acupuncture. My insurance company approved 24 visits within a 12-month period; however, they only gave me 18 visits before denying additional acupuncture services. Furthermore, my insurance company has forced me to repeatedly complete paperwork and get approvals for additional visits after every 5 or 6 visits. While I am waiting for these approvals, I am not able to receive acupuncture services, which causes a delay in treatment and regression in my progress. While I am waiting, I end up back in pain, the progress I have made disappears, I end up taking more pain medication… it’s a vicious cycle. It’s a vicious cycle that insurance companies want you to keep repeating. Why? Money, of course!

Insurance companies stand to gain payouts from pharmaceutical companies for keeping you on their medications. Neither the insurance company or the pharmaceutical company gains anything when you find effective alternatives such as cannabis or acupuncture. This is why cannabis is still stigmatized, still illegal in many states, still not regularly prescribed and still largely underground. This is also why my insurance company keeps giving me a hard time about obtaining acupuncture services. Insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies are directly responsible for the opioid epidemic, an epidemic which will not see any real relief any time soon no matter what Donald Trump says or what downright comical campaigns he launches against it. Making it more difficult to acquire opiates is effective, but a more effective strategy would be to raise awareness of and advocate alternative pain management therapies such as acupuncture, diet modification and perhaps herbal remedies such as cannabis.

Letter:

Saturday, October 21, 2017

To whom it may concern,

This letter is in regards to all recent correspondence regarding acupuncture services. Since I have begun receiving acupuncture in April of this year, I have had to get reapproved for services a number of times, each time having to fill out a one-page form explaining how acupuncture is helping me. This one page form is rather inadequate for explaining the benefits of acupuncture, particularly as it applies to me. Additionally, I believe that perhaps those making the decisions about these approvals are not familiar with how acupuncture works, otherwise they would not approve only a few visits at a time, causing a disruption in the flow of services. The purpose of this letter is to inform you that acupuncture is benefitting me, how it is benefitting me and how your system of approving only a few visits at a time is inhibiting progress rather than benefitting me.

I have recently been officially diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, a diagnosis I knew existed long before my doctors ever thought to test for it. Prior to this official diagnosis, I had been diagnosed with simple arthritis in a variety of locations. I also have been diagnosed as being flat-footed, which was causing tremendous pain in my right foot and which made it difficult to walk. Within a few months of beginning acupuncture, the pain in my right foot disappeared completely and I am able to walk painlessly again. The pain in my lower back, for which I had begun to be treated in the beginning, is also mostly gone, though it reoccurs from time to time. As for my RA, it pops up in different places all the time. I experience pain in my neck, back, shoulders, left hip, left leg, hands and feet daily. Some days only a few of these things hurt. Some days all of these things hurt. My pain levels in each of these areas are dependent upon a variety of factors including how I slept, diet, climate, activity and when my last acupuncture appointment was. This brings me to your system of approval.

When I am able to receive acupuncture services weekly, I experience considerably less pain overall, am able to fix certain ailments such as pinched nerves in my neck (which occur frequently) immediately, experience improvement in my overall condition (such as when the pain in my right foot went away altogether), and use less pain medication. The current system of treatment from doctors and from insurance is to keep me using pain medication, which is fine, but I do not wish to take any more pain medication than is absolutely necessary if there is a healthier alternative. Acupuncture is a healthier alternative. It is working. What is not working is having large gaps between acupuncture services because I can only get a few services approved at a time.

I am respectfully requesting that you reconsider your decision regarding the approval of my acupuncture services. I wish to continue receiving acupuncture services because I have seen where it has been incredibly beneficial. I am also requesting that more services be approved with each recertification period.

Part 2: Update on Lack of Resources in Music Program

Part 2: Update on Lack of Resources in Music Program

Today I returned to the school which served as an impetus for my M.S. Education thesis and for my blog entry “Lack of Resources and Opportunities in Low Socioeconomic Schools”. On Tuesday, the company I work for sent someone to fix the guitars and ordered some keyboards as the ones they presently have are broken. Tomorrow, they will be getting a new full-time music teacher. I will be there as well.

I brought my guitar tuner and tuned one of the acoustic guitars. One student played “Seven Nation Army” on an electric guitar. Another student played “Fur Elise” by Beethoven on their one working keyboard. Yet another student attempted to play “Chop Suey” by System of a Down on drums. This is not an easy song to play and the guitar set they have at this school is inadequate to play this song, but she gave it a solid effort. She’s not quite ready for this song, though. She needs to play faster and her rhythm needs to catch up to her speed, but with practice, she will get there. This is precisely why we need adequate music education in schools.

In this case, I spoke up for these students and got them the resources they needed to have a functional music program. Other students at other schools are not so lucky. The arts are always the first programs to have their funding cut and without programs like the one that I work for, those schools suffer without the benefit of a proper music program. The administrators in charge of the budget do not understand the importance of continuing to fund arts programs. These arts programs can boost the test scores they are so worried about, improve grades, increase mathematics comprehension, raise self-confidence and lift student morale.

I honestly never thought that I would be teaching music, let alone advocating for music programs in schools. I was encouraged to study something other than music and get a “real job”. I tried to do all that. I have two master’s degrees (English and Education). While in college, I took Calculus while other English majors were taking Algebra. I have taught everything from preschool to college and everything in between. I taught at the university level for 5 ½ years and think I will likely return in the very near future. I have several friends who are musicians as well, many of which were also good at math, science and technology. A few of these friends have degrees in computer science related fields and have good careers in those industries. They are all evidence of the benefit of music on overall education. As much as the mind is a terrible thing to waste, so too is talent.

Lack of Resources and Opportunities in Low Socioeconomic Schools

Lack of Resources and Opportunities in Low Socioeconomic Schools

For the past six weeks, I have only worked one day per week (Wednesdays) due to illness and my mother’s death. I had music classes to teach, and only I could teach them. This week, I began to feel better on Wednesday, so I decided to work again on Thursday. Somewhat ironically, I was sent to the same school site where I last worked six weeks ago. I was unaware then that they had no regular music teacher and thus, no formal instruction. Hoping to avoid the brain-shattering noise of last time, I thought I would at least try to teach these kids something this time. This is when I discovered that all of their guitars need maintenance of some sort. Some of them are missing strings. One of them is missing a tuning key. All of them are detuned. They do not have a tuner or strings, and it is impossible to tune guitars by sound when they are making so much noise banging on the drums and playing other instruments. Additionally, it is much easier to obtain an accurate pitch using a tuner versus sound. They also do not have any working keyboards; they are all broken. They have not had an actual music teacher at all this year.

I had yet another doctor’s appointment today regarding my resistant sinus infection. This doctor’s office is near the office of the company I work for, so I decided to pay them a visit and let them know the state of things at this school site and offer solutions on how to make it better. This is when I found out that the instruments at this school site actually belong to the school, not the company, and have not been maintained because they do not have a music teacher to maintain them, so the kids just end up abusing the instruments and rendering many of them unusable. Their instruments were serviced at the beginning of the school year, but never tended to again for this reason. The sad state of their music program is heartbreaking, but I hope to change it for the better and have committed to returning to this school site every Friday to teach music. Going forward, I may add another day of the week as well.

I returned to the school yet again today, this time with a tuner so I could tune the guitars that are in working order. I was prepared to try again to teach music, but they ended up being severely understaffed today (this school is always somewhat understaffed) and I ended up with a group of kids playing basketball instead of teaching music.

A few things that I have observed about this school in the three visits I have made to it these past few months is that they are understaffed, unstructured and lacking resources. Six weeks ago is not the first time I visited this campus, however. I first visited this campus as a graduate student in an education program. I was researching the connection between low SES (socioeconomic status) educational demographics (i.e. schools located in poorer regions) and achievement, including test scores and graduation rates. The day was January 21, 2009 and the school principal had ordered that the entire school watch the inauguration of President Barack Obama. One of the teachers I observed defied this order from the principal and refused to play the inauguration in her class. Yes, she was white. Yes, I did say something. Ironically, she turned out to be a graduate student at the same school as myself. As of 2014, she had not made it through the graduate program.

A thought occurred to me amidst my frustration today with this school and this memory of having been here before. I began by feeling bad for these kids whose school lacks the resources to provide them with a proper music education. I have the ability and the desire to help them, but have found my hands tied three times so far in my endeavor to help them. The disadvantages they have are not just limited to a lack of a music teacher or a lack of working musical instruments. The problem is much larger than that and has been a problem for at least 8 years now. These kids have the desire and, in some cases, the ability. I have heard some of them play the electric guitar or drums and have heard potential. I have seen their artwork. They have some really talented artists. I have watched their dance groups rehearse. Poor children and children of color are no less intelligent or talented than more affluent or Caucasian children; they just are frequently disadvantaged by their circumstances, their school and by the people who are supposed to lead them, but who fail to recognize their contribution. Research has shown a positive correlation between music education and academic achievement. Research has also shown a correlation between socioeconomic status and achievement. This is why a loan forgiveness program was developed for teachers who agreed to teach in low SES schools; a program that is now in danger thanks to morons who have never been in a classroom, except as a student. I started the day today with hope and ended it with frustration, but I hope maybe next week will be different.

Prayer is an Active Verb

October 21, 2017

Prayer is an Active Verb

Whenever something tragic happens, people like to say “thoughts and prayers”. There’s a terrorist attack in Paris. Paris is in our thoughts and prayers. There’s an active shooter in Vegas. Vegas is in our thoughts and prayers. We change our Facebook profile pictures to an Eiffel tower or something and our “thoughts and prayers” post gets 100 likes because we have shown solidarity with whoever has been the victim of a tragedy. Puerto Rico is in our thoughts and prayers. I am in a lot of people’s thoughts and prayers since I have lost my mother. Thoughts and prayers are great, but they’re not enough.

The surviving victims in Las Vegas need blood and assistance with medical bills and those who didn’t survive have left their loved ones with the task of burying them. Puerto Rico is under water still and much of the island remains without power, food, or water. People on the island are dying from preventable diseases and from lack of proper medical care due to loss of power, food, and water. Meanwhile, the country is thinking and praying and Donald Trump is golfing. As for me, I am OK… until I am not OK. Those who have figured out how to navigate to the one-man island that is me, have done so. My father could use additional weekend caretakers, if you know someone.

I know that money is tight for many. Money is tight for me, too. Yet, I have contributed to Puerto Rico because money is a lot tighter for them. I have power, food, and water; they don’t. If you’re reading this, you do too. If not Puerto Rico, there are others who need help too. If you can give blood, there are people who need it. You have people in your own backyard that could use a hand. I am tired of blanket “thoughts and prayers” responses coupled with absolute inaction, especially from those who consider themselves to be Christian.

Message to Christians:

Prayer and Worship are verbs. They are action verbs. Some people will tell you that if you pray to God to make you wealthy, that He will. Others will tell you that you will be wealthy as a result of a combination of prayer and Godliness. Still others will recognize this as a bunch of bunk. Prayer will not make you wealthy; hard work might. You cannot expect to get wealthy by just thinking about and praying for wealth. You will not be healed by just thinking about and praying for health. You need to actively pursue health. You cannot expect change by just thinking about and praying for change. You must be the change you want to see. Prayer is the act of praying to God to help you do something and then doing it. Some people forget the second part. Worship is the act of showing reverence to a deity. You can do this with song, but you can do it better by taking care of that deity’s people. Jesus said, “whatsoever you do unto these, the least of My people, you do unto Me”. When you ignore the plight of your fellow man when you could do something, even just a little something, then you are ignoring Jesus.

I'm OK...Until I'm Not

I’m OK… until I’m Not

I have spent the majority of my life trying to figure out what my purpose on this planet is. I was beginning to be convinced that some people probably never do figure out what this is and that I would be one of those people. In recent posts, I have talked about finding this purpose in my mother’s death, and while I still hold that this was and is my purpose, it probably gives the false sense that I am always OK. I am OK… until I’m not OK.

I have been sick for five weeks now. It started off with a cold my son decided I needed to have and has continued on to be the most stubborn sinus infection from the deepest recesses of hell I have ever experienced. I have been on two different courses of antibiotics now and remain sick. I am sick of being sick. My nose is always stuffed up on at least one side at all times and often on both sides. I have trouble sleeping, eating and drinking. I frequently choke on the things I am drinking because I cannot breathe properly. My head feels like it is filled with mucus and I feel like I am drowning. My nose, face and head hurt. Compounding this stubborn sinus infection is the loss of my mother two weeks ago.

I have always been absent minded. This absent mindedness has increased significantly these past two months with this sinus infection and my mother’s passing. I frequently misplace things because I forget that I even had it in the first place or forget where I put it, or both. I feel like I am losing my mind. The one thing I have always rather prided myself on is my mind. Yes, it is forgetful. No, it is not perfect. Yes, I worry that in the wake of my mother dying from Alzheimer’s, that I will also die of Alzheimer’s. This last thought scares the shit out of me. I hate having gone from someone who taught college and wrote academic papers to someone who can’t remember where she put something she was given just a few days ago. Sometimes I see so much of my mom in myself that I become both frustrated and scared at the same time. I can’t help but be hard on myself. I want so badly for this sinus infection to go away. I want my brain to come back. I want to believe that this is a temporary condition that will get better with time. It doesn’t really help to know that this is “normal,” or that the experiences I have had make this “normal”. My mom had it rough too and look what happened to her.

So, most of the time, I am ok. I wake up each morning hoping that I feel better than the day before, and then I don’t. I drink my coffee and try to do the best I can. I have taken up crocheting again. I started working on an afghan only to discover that after I crocheted 1’ long, I don’t know how to measure because it is more than 1’ wide. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother at all. I do my best and my best is always a day late, a dollar short, too wide, or a lot foggy. Today I am not OK.

Everything Happens for a Reason

Everything Happens for a Reason

Earlier this month, I wrote an entry titled “Momma Did You Know?” in which I wondered if my mom knew that I would end up being the one to take care of her in her final days. I thought about the fact that if my life had turned out the way I had planned, she would have likely died alone in a nursing home sooner than she did and I may not have been by her side. I thought about the fact that I had come from a long line of women who had married abusive husbands and that as a divorced woman, I had broken the cycle and raised my girls to be strong, independent and expect more from their relationships. I realized that all the suffering I endured over the course of my life, and most especially in the last 20 years, had served a purpose.

This morning, I went to the doctor. I have been sick for nearly five weeks now, at first with a cold, and now with a sinus infection. I went to the doctor this past Sunday also, and was given an antibiotic, pain medication and Flonase. Today I still feel as bad as I did a week ago. I have been unable to work as many hours as I would like to because my line of work requires that I not sound like I am talking under water and not be sneezing and sniveling all over the place. I also cannot breathe, sleep, or eat and drink properly. I frequently get choked on what I am drinking because I cannot breathe well enough to drink. The point of this blog though is not to describe how sick I feel now, but to talk about my blood pressure.

A year ago, I began to have high blood pressure when I would go to the doctor. In November, I lost my job at an engineering company. They stated on my unemployment paperwork that I was laid off, but the truth of the matter is, they replaced me with someone else. To say I was upset with them for doing this is an understatement. I helped them win 3 lawsuits they were involved in and cleaned up a massive and expensive mess that was left by their previous receptionist. Unlike other employees who were frequently late and often messing around on their phone, I had good attendance, was rarely late and prioritized work over being on my phone. The only real problem that I had involved my parents’ needs, which generally would be the reason for a few late arrivals. I also supposedly, according to the Vice President’s son, needed to “stick with my own race and age group”. I was angry and stressed out and this only served to raise my blood pressure even higher. My doctor was ready to hospitalize me and put me on blood pressure medication. I begged him not to because I needed to be there for my parents. I was given two weeks to bring it down or else.

I brought it down to acceptable levels, but it still remained higher than it used to be. I used to be in the 110’s and 120’s and now I was doing good to keep it below 140. I have not heard that it was too high since December of last year. Today it was 126 / 70. It seems that those ungrateful and racist assholes saved my life by letting me go.

When I am working, I make nearly twice as much as I did working for the engineering company doing what I love. Money is going to be tight for a little while since I am sick, but pretty soon I will be doing well, doing what I love and being a whole lot healthier doing it. Sometimes we don’t understand why things happen. I sure didn’t understand why I managed to marry the wrong person, suffer 20 years of misfortune and lose a job for no reason, but it seems to me that all of these things happened for a reason.

Mental Health Awareness

Mental Health Awareness

A few years ago, perhaps 3 or 4, I was invited to a small backyard party. The host had a fire pit in his backyard that he was going to fire up. I brought graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate. A few of my friends were also invited to this party and one of them burned several marshmallows for me over the fire pit as we all sat around it drinking, eating smores and chatting. One of the host’s friends, whom I had just met, was sitting to my right about 4 or 5 feet away. He asked me if I was afraid of fire and before I could answer, he interjected that he wasn’t trying to make me feel bad and started sharing about how he had been house-bound for 2 years due to severe anxiety. He had met the host through video games and had slowly been coaxed out of the house and was now sitting at this party having this conversation with me. He had sought help and was placed on some medications that were helping him. He now works for Google.

This interaction served to be one of the most important interactions of my life. I had already been diagnosed with depression years prior. I had learned to live with this. I had been in and out of counseling and on and off medications, but I did not want this to be my life sentence. I balked at the very notion that I would be on medication for the rest of my life for depression. I still do not take medication for my depression. I protested even more so when a doctor suggested that I had anxiety. Why? I don’t know. In retrospect it seems so silly and stupidly obvious and it was downright transparent to this party guest who had just met me a few hours before.

My father, whom I have talked about in previous blog entries (this one and my other blog “When Parents Grow Old and Get Crazy”) used to shame my mother and I for our mental illness. He was adamant about it being kept secret from everyone else, except that my mom’s on and off bouts with schizophrenia were a little hard to keep secret. My depression is a lot easier to keep under wraps. Anxiety for that matter is easy to keep under wraps and for years, not only was I successful at doing this, so was my father. He now has deeper mental issues than mere Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; issues so blatantly transparent that keeping it a secret is absolutely impossible. My mother died from Alzheimer’s at the age of 74.

People notice when your friend is burning your marshmallows for you instead of you doing it yourself. They notice when you avoid freeways at all costs. They smell your fear of clowns and plaster images of them all over Facebook for shits and giggles. The point is, you can keep these issues to yourself to some extent, but to some extent, they still remain visible. Trying to bottle them all up and pretend they don’t exist doesn’t help anyone. Others don’t understand you and can’t learn to help you and you just end up speeding your way toward the grave that much faster. It isn’t worth it. You deserve better and so do your loved ones.

I sought help after this interaction with this party guest. I have been seeing a therapist for a few years now and have a prescription for Xanax. Sometimes I see my therapist 2 or 3 times per month, other times only once a month. I take the Xanax as needed. I also practice deep breathing, meditation, walking and music therapy. I burn my own marshmallows. I still haven’t seen It, but someday I will and at the end of this month, I am going to Knott’s Scary Farm for the first time ever.

Don’t be ashamed of your mental illness; own it. It’s not going away, so learn to live with it as comfortably as possible. Communicate with your friends and family. Let them know what they can do to help you. Seek counseling and/or medication if needed. Do what you need to do. You and your loved ones deserve the best possible version of you available.

The Rock

The Rock

This rock is a reminder of where I once was, of who I used to be, and of what I used to do. I have a picture of a bird on the tree in the background. I was on top of this rock when I took that picture. Five years ago, I couldn’t even hike the half of the mountain leading up to this rock. My ex-husband had left me with 3 kids, multiple debts and I had a terrible skateboarding accident that nearly killed me. I overcame. I hiked this mountain and I climbed this rock. Two and a half years ago, my life got turned upside down again. I was thrown into the position of taking care of my parents also. I have forgotten how to sleep, how to relax, how to be myself, who I am, and how to climb this damned rock. I came up here to clear my mind. I left the fogginess in the clouds and fog above and in return nature reminded me that I must face this rock until again I can climb it. And I will climb it.