30 things I love right now:
1. My YMCA membership.
3. The My Favorite Murder podcast
4. Atlanta, where my son lives
5. My cell phone (I know, I know)
6. New friends discovered during the recent municipal elections
7. The home stretch of our 18 month kitchen renovation
8. My funny, sweet husband
10. @SarcasticRover on Twitter
11. My reading journal
12. My fitbit
15. Elizabeth Kolbert’s books
16. My tattered boyfriend jeans
17. Bryan Stephenson, author of Just Mercy
18. My cat, Zoey
19. Gerbera daisies
20. Fantasy house hunting on Zillow
22. The blogging community
23. Trying new craft beers
24. My sons, the best young men in the world
26. Having my depression and anxiety under control
27. Paper calendars and planners
29. My new passport
30. The 3 wonderful kids I babysit
This is going to be a different year. My mother passed away on August 4, and the last part of 2015 was spent in a blurry, disoriented state of wondering if I was feeling the right things, doing the right things. I didn’t experience grief so much as numbness. I felt as if I had been thrown out of my comfortable world of house, husband, grown kids, friends, writing – into a totally foreign world of care-taking, decision-making, and difficult, sad loss.
My husband is a wonderful person, simply because he is still here. He is here when I have nothing to give him in return but the love of 26 years, and the promise that no matter what, he is always my person, and I am always his.
I was researching (for another post I’ll get to later) the children’s story about the Gingerbread Man. The Internet being a wondrous thing, I was able to find a photo of the front of the little hard-cover book I had as a child. Continue reading “Gingerbread”→
Before I begin, here’s a BIG DISCLAIMER: this is not a cry for help, or a RED FLAG, or a whine for pity. This is just me relating through writing, my latest stumble, my glitch, my little detour off the rails.
Maybe someone reading this will say, “Oh, my gosh – ME TOO!” Maybe not. But I think those of us who live with some forms of mental illness, like depression or anxiety, or with brain differences that challenge us, like ADHD or dyslexia, must all go through these times when we just get tired of holding it together, exhausted from checking and rebuilding that scaffolding that holds up our lives. We get tired of making sure our medication is filled, and our responsibilities are all logged on our calendars with multiple reminders. We stumble, and stuff starts falling through the cracks. Continue reading “I can’t BRAIN today.”→
I am not the only person in my city, my state, my country – far from it – who feels the urgent need to DO and SAY things about what is happening to democracy in America. I must have five books piled on my sofa, and five more on my iPad, that explain, from one perspective or another, how and why the United States got into the current state of extreme inequality and ideological polarization.
It is not hard to see the problem. I do what most say not to do and read the comments after political articles, particularly those in my local newspaper. Under anonymous screen names, people do not hold back their anger, fear and bias. They seem both glibly unaware of the seriousness of the divide, the threat to democracy, and yet deeply fearful in a “gut” instinct way that what we hold dear and how we always expected things to go is slipping away. The lashing, labeling, knee-jerk prejudice is disheartening.
What to do? Write? Volunteer? Donate? Lead? Follow? I am almost frozen into inactivity with the urgency to do something about the world, against the enormity of our slide – or free fall – into something that does not resemble a nation “of the people.”
I am one person, but one person can do something. Today, I read and learn; write and plan; collect information and analyze it; donate to one worthwhile cause. It is enough for today.