Shifting Ground

 A few things have happened recently that have altered my equilibrium, both externally and internally, and I am angry and anxious and feeling like my very carefully regulated peace of mind has shifted into unknown territory.

1.  ICE has entered my calm, diverse neighborhood in the most horrifying way - at a middle school bus stop.  Two unmarked, white vans were sitting at a bus stop with kids, ages 12-14.  A mother stopped them and began filming.  Fortunately, whoever they were targeting never showed up, but I can’t imagine the trauma those kids would have witnessed had they had to see one of their peers dragged away and shoved into a van.  Our community was in an uproar. WTF is happening to our country? 

2. My long-time dentist recently retired.  I carry deep trauma surrounding choking on teeth that were kicked out.  I never told my dentist the details, beyond having dental trauma, but somehow he always just seemed to get it.  He always asked how I was doing, always gave me breaks during any procedure, always sensed when I was overwhelmed and let me walk around.  Maybe because he donated a lot of his time to working with veterans.  I don’t know.  But he always managed to get me through dental work.  And now I have a cracked tooth and will be seeing a new dentist.  I know-or at least hope- that my anxiety is worse than anything I am actually going to experience.  Still, I am bracing for a breakdown.

3. My nephew is separating from his wife.  There has never been a divorce in my family and no one seems to know how to react to this news or how family relationships will change.  Their issues mostly stem from disagreements on parenting and child discipline, and so I think, could be worked out with the help of a family therapist.  I am hopeful but still very unsettled in this shift in family dynamics that once seemed so solid.  

All together, these events have left me feeling unmoored. The stability I’ve fought for—in my mental peace, in relationships, and the sense of safety for my community—suddenly feels very fragile. I know life is unpredictable, and change is inevitable, but right now, I feel like the ground is shifting beneath me, unsure if there is any safe place to land.

I’m trying to find ways to hold myself steady, relying on all the old therapeutic tricks and building resilience amongst all the chaos.  But honestly? More often than not, I just keep thinking about that musical:  “Stop the World, I Want to Get Off”.

Not Okay

 

Stop Doing List

 Recently, I went down a bit of a rabbit hole.

It started with a visit to Middle Girl’s blog. Her artwork was beautiful, but it was the quote she featured—“Love is an action, never simply a feeling”—that really stuck with me. It reminded me of something I’d read years ago. I even commented, saying “Love is a verb,” though I couldn’t quite remember where I’d heard that phrase.

Turns out, I misattributed it—or at least half-remembered it. After some head-scratching and digging, I finally traced it back to Patty Digh and her book “Life is a Verb”—a book I actually own. Go figure.

As I reread some of her work, another quote of hers jumped out at me:

“Sometimes our stop-doing list needs to be bigger than our to-do list.”

And just like that, down another rabbit hole I went.

This time of year, my to-do list is packed with gardening tasks and outdoor chores. But the idea of a “stop-doing” list hit differently. It made me pause and consider what habits, thought patterns, and distractions I might need to let go of in order to create more space for presence, purpose, and connection.

Here’s what’s presently making it onto my stop-doing list:

Stop doom scrolling first thing in the morning. A quick check for new grandkid pics on my daughters’ socials is fine—then it’s time to get up and get moving.

Stop mindlessly eating. Food deserves intention, not distraction.

Stop avoiding triggers. After years and years of therapy, I estimate I have mastered about 95% of my former triggers. But I still find myself avoiding certain situations/people/conversations. Leaning into discomfort is often where the healing begins.

Stop dodging difficult conversations. Sometimes facing them can mend old wounds and strengthen bridges.

Stop taking relationships for granted. They require time, care, and attention. It’s too easy to coast on routine and shared history.

Stop tolerating the erosion of my boundaries. I once let a friend ridicule my critical boundaries and it caused so much damage that I’m still trying to untangle it.  But I have learned. Respect begins with me.

I am learning that love, connection, and purpose aren’t built through my busyness—they take root in the quiet moments I am making by releasing what no longer serves me.

Inquiring Minds

I have been home sick for the last 10 days.  First was the norovirus that came on suddenly and painfully. Vomiting and diarrhea added to the misery.  Finally  after four days of that and one day of feeling recovered, I have been felled by a nasty cough and cold.  

I always thank Martha for these contagions since she often subs in an elementary school - the petri dish of germs.  Thanks!

I have been using my down time reading historical novels which I prefer.  But as I lay in bed with tissues wadded up my nose, I thought of this question -

All these old century stories deal with horrible diseases - typhoid, Bubonic plaque, small pox.  But I have never read of a protagonist in earlier centuries having a common cold.  Did it not exist back then?  Did Michelangelo never sneeze on David?  Did Cleopatra never cough on Anthony?

And my burning question is - what did they use for tissues? This baby needs her Puffs Plus with Lotion and Vicks.  I can’t imagine rubbing rough papyrus on my already raw nose.

If you have any insight, please leave all scholarly research, or fantasy guesses in the comments.  Inquiring minds need to know.

Manifesting Kindness

I had meant to start January with a post about positivity and healthy resolutions.  But I got blindsided by a call saying that a friend’s granddaughter had committed suicide.  Seventeen years old.  Brillant.  Had just received early admission to the ivy league school of her choice.  It seemed that she was about to have everything she had worked so hard for.  But she also suffered from depression.  At first it was thought that she broke under the weight of academic pressure and expectation.  But her diary revealed that she was also being bullied at school.  Bullied to death.  It is unimaginably horrendous how some people treat others. 

She is the third person I know who lost their lives to depression.  I also have many friends and relatives who battle with this illness daily, to varying degrees.  I am far from an expert, but it seems like this illness is often triggered by, or reinforced by, a feeling of isolation, loneliness, or lack of support.   

Compounding the problem today, we are in the midst of very troubling times.  Politics, climate emergencies, broken health care, war.  So much pain and loss.  The causes for depression are multiplying. All, it seems, caused by greed and the insatiable desire for power and the need to feel better than someone else.  I read a lot about history, and my biggest take-away is that humanity has always had people with a mean streak, with the most powerful people putting down those without power. Always wanting more.  Always wanting to feel superior.  Always at someone else’s expense.  It’s a story as old as time. 

In the face of all the sadness and isolation, I want to do better for folks who are suffering.  I know they often mask their pain, and I wonder how many times I have completely missed the signs of a friend in need.  Last year I lost a former colleague who I thought to be one of the happiest people - always smiling, always volunteering for everything, always extra social.  She also suffered from depression.  But no one knew.  I just keep thinking about that - no one knew.

So one of my resolutions this year is to better educate myself on how to recognize and support folks who experience depression.  But I also have to acknowledge that in most cases, unfortunately, I won’t even recognize it.  So, what to do?   Researching about it, I came across this:

“Kindness serves as a powerful antidote to depression”

So my resolution for this year is to be more aware of all folks I encounter. Those close to me and those anywhere in my orbit. Even the mean and ornery ones. Even the red ones and the rude ones and the ones who wouldn't give me the time of day. Just be kind to everyone.  At every opportunity.  All the time.  It costs nothing.   

n keep our balance we

God Jul (Merry Christmas)

My family didn’t have much when I was growing up.  We didn’t get a lot in the way of presents but my mom always somehow made the Christmas season magical.  She was a stay-at-home mom, but worked some odd jobs all year - making calls, or stuffing envelopes - to make enough money to give us one special holiday experience.  The Radio City Spectacular, the Vienna Choir Boys at Lincoln Center, the Rockefeller tree lighting, or a Broadway show are some of my favorite childhood memories.  And although we didn’t get much under the tree, our home was always filled with festive handmade decorations and the smell of baking almond cookies.

I think Martha and I did a pretty good job of also giving our daughters a magical Christmas. But to be honest, it was all so hectic - we both worked full time, splitting shifts because we didn’t have any daycare help (and no Amazon delivery) -  I missed a lot of the magic in all of the frenetic chaos of putting it all together.

But now I have grandchildren - 2 granddaughters, too young yet to get excited, and 2 grandsons, both three years old and at an age of wonderment.   And I get to experience the magic again, without all the work.  We have made snowmen, baked cookies, made tree ornaments and seen Santa.  

We went on a special trip on the Polar Express and had hot chocolate, got our tickets punched and received Christmas bells from Santa. 

I’d like to say that the best part was watching the joy in the kid’s eyes, but I think I might have been even more bedazzled than they were.  There is just something so magical about this time of year.

We do not celebrate a religious Christmas, although Martha usually attends some mass with old friends.  I tend to focus on the simple Scandinavian traditions of my youth - candles, reading books while sipping hot chocolate, and almond cookies.   

However you choose to celebrate this season (or not) I wish you all the childlike joys of magic and warmth and laughter.   And cookies.  Lots and lots of cookies.

Full of Grace

Well, this has certainly been a tough, gut wrenching week.  And apparently getting worse with each new appointment. 

Knowing that this nightmare is going to continue ad nauseam, I am taking measures to protect my inner peace by turning off all national news for a while and quickly clicking out of anything where I see he who must not be named.   I’ve been taking a lot of walks. And naps.

I also recognize that I have much be be grateful for:

• Although I am a queer woman (two strikes)  I am white which gives me a wealth of unearned privilege. 

• I, and my immediate family, all live in blue states. 

• Anticipating the republican win, my state just overwhelmingly enshrined existing civil rights protections, including abortion and trans rights, into our Constitution, to add an extra layer of protection against attacks.

• Although Martha and I collect Social Security, thanks to our pensions, we do not need it to live comfortably.

• Our grandchildren appear to be healthy and will most likely not need any special programs from our schools.  

When the shock and sadness of this national nightmare wears off, I’ll be fine. And I am grateful. But I don’t know how to help all those who will suffer, now and for generations to come. 

But love is not going to be enough. The trail just got steeper, but the climb continues.