Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: angry, anxiety, confused, family, Grief, life, love, mental health, stressed, worried, writing
In the last few years I have become more anxious. A downright “Nervous Nellie” who is quick to anger and fears everything. If people leave their garbage behind in a movie theater I want to accost them, force them to collect their rubbish. If someone takes up two parking spots in a crowded parking lot, I fume and fret and want to leave a nasty note on their windshield. If people walk through a door and don’t hold it open for someone behind them, my blood boils. Cutting lines makes me want to physically assault the offenders. I’m afraid of everything: being fired, being disliked, being a bad mother, being a bad wife, being a bad friend, being anywhere for a new World War, being destitute in my retirement, being riddled with cancer.
While always neurotic, I have emphatically not been untenably anxious before. In fact, despite the constant stream of self recrimination which has been my thematic backdrop, I have prided myself on being the bravest person I have ever met or known. My life has been dynamic, dramatic, with many career pivots in hyper competitive fields, a few husbands, several international moves, and it has been fantastically interesting and I am grateful for so much. But there have also been incredible disappointments and losses. Through it all I have been resourceful, resilient and intrepid. Always. Till now. Now I can feel the anxiety stream through my body like an electrical current at the slightest provocation. See the aforementioned. My body becomes rigid, my lips pursed, my eyes mean and dark.
Granted, I have had concentrated “challenges” in recent years: three eye surgeries and two foot surgeries. A terrible menopause, bleeding three weeks of every month for two years, culminating in my becoming anaemic (no doctor – female or male – would help). I found out the father that I had known my entire life, and who is dead now, was not my biological dad — memories, perceptions of my family and my identity shifted seismically as a result. My niece died in an accident, my mother died six days later, I became estranged with my remaining family after being unfairly excluded from participation in our collective familial grief and then the spreading of my mother (and father’s!) ashes. When my stoic son burst into tears of astonishment and hurt because of how his mom was being treated by the family, and my husband (who is my Jiminy Cricket, never shying from telling me the truth of matters and critical to a sharpened point) steps in to protect me, it’s time to excuse myself from the table. But that sadness remains, like an amputated limb. A year after these events, I was hospitalised for nine days and almost died due to an inflamed colon and three months later had 16 inches of it removed. Can’t help but think it was metaphoric. I’m a high school teacher, and I work very hard, yet as a contractor in a competitive market, every year for five years I was told that that year would be my last — it was a terrible period of uncertainty.
Because I perpetually want to understand the world around me, despite my simultaneous belief that the world and life itself, is chaotic and certainty in any regard is an illusion, two theories emerge as to “why?” I seem to be this way now: either I have early onset Alzheimers, a cruel disease that both my mother and my great aunt were afflicted by. Or, my hypothalamus is attuned to stress and a consequent “fight or flight” state of being. Having closely observed the decline of my mother’s mind and personality in the last few years of her life, dementia is horrifyingly fraught with personal tension. If my body is forsaking me, then honestly, I do not know what I can do about it in real or effective terms. As I keenly felt during Covid – 19, I wish that I had paid attention in biology class and understood the body’s machinations. Likely because I find the possibility of losing my mind too scary to light upon for too long, particularly in my ignorance of the delicate dance of one’s bodily synchronicities, I’m leaning toward the scientifically unsound notion that because I have spent my life in a state of extreme stimulus, my mind, body, soul, does not understand the calmer life I lead now. Life in which I am more stable than I have ever been personally, professionally, and practically. If so, then the answer is to learn how to calm my physical impulses and mind down. Simple, but not easy.
My great uncle Dick used to ask “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” This never made much sense to ten-year-old me, but it does now. Some days I feel like a teenager, others as though I am in the purgatory state of my late 20’s, other moments 45, and others 90. It is bizarre and interesting. It is agelessness, despite what my body tells me and what society’s superficial perception of me is. I used to think that by the time I got to the age I am now, the “old double nickel,” that I would have it all figured out. Be like the sage on the mount. But I find I’m frequently making mistakes, learning things I never knew, and perpetually evolving. It’s actually pretty awesome in the truest definition of the word. But it is not something for nothing. Due to the acute grief of recent years, I truly understand that life is fleeting and I have it good — I want to revel in that truth every day and be the best mother, wife, friend, person I can be. Most pressing is that I have to learn how to cope with my short fuse and anxiety before I hurt myself or anyone else…(any ideas?). While I figure this out, my instinct – the hail Mary – tells me to eat well, sleep well, move a little each day, and take deep breaths. Gulp.
Filed under: Corona 2020 | Tags: Bird, Blossom, Easter, Emily Dickinson, Harvest, hope, life, poem, poetry, Spring
Because it’s Easter, a holiday associated with life, light, nature, and possibility –
And because “Hope,” here, is symbolized as a bird –
And, because, it’s Emily Dickinson –
I offer up this poem to remember…
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: addiction, angst, city, depression, health, life, loneliness, marriage, mental health, mid life crisis, rural, sadness, teenager
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
Maya Angelou
A city girl who lives in a village.
A muted erudite.
A smoker who can’t smoke.
A drinker who can’t drink.
A carnal creature sans sex.
Vivacity rendered torpid.
A bird in a cage of its own making.
Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: addiction, alcohol, border collie, dogs, drugs, habits, habituation, life, mental health, pet, pets, smoking, teetotaller
My fashion philosophy is if you’re not covered in dog hair, your life is empty. Elayne Boosler
My beloved dog, a bright Border Collie, is having a hard time adjusting to my rationed cigarettes, alcohol, and consequent change of habits. When I get up in the morning and head downstairs, she greets me at the bottom of the stairs then goes and sits in the kitchen while I make my coffee. Once I’ve poured my coffee, she heads to the back door and waits till I open it in order to go out for a smoke with me. Whenever I head to the kitchen for something she does the same thing. She knows I like something to drink with my cigarettes. So, she gets up from her bed, sits and waits for me to finish in the kitchen, then heads to the back door waiting for me to open it and go outside with her to smoke. Every time I rifle through my purse, she gets up from wherever she’s lying and goes to the back door and waits for me to exit for a cigarette that I would normally have retrieved from it. After dinner, once we’ve cleared the table, she goes to the back door waiting for me to exit, wine in hand, to have my ‘after dinner’ cigarette. When my son has gone to bed and I normally return back downstairs for a phone conversation to the states (time difference), drinks and much smoking, she gets up as soon as I take the phone from the cradle, she stretches, and heads to the back door waiting for me to open it.
I finally ‘clocked’ her behavior last night when I was clearing the dinner table and began cleaning the dishes. Normally, I would have gone for my after dinner smoke before doing this, and normally she would have gone and stood at the door waiting for me after the clearing of the table. But this time she didn’t. She lay on the floor and looked at me. She eyed my every move, but did not get up to go to the back door. Also, I noticed that she has taken to lying at the bottom of the stairs after I go up with my son for bedtime. I haven’t gone back down after putting him to bed in recent days for a phone call or anything. I now prefer to go to bed early, like a farmer might, ‘cause I can’t drink and smoke anyway. It makes the day shorter. One week in and she realizes there’s a new regiment going on (smart dog) but she’s confused. Maybe a little saddened that our rituals together are changed. Then I realized, “She’s a creature of habit, of course! And, for five years – her entire life – she has been my companion in the rain, sun, snow, cold, heat for my frequent cigarettes throughout the day and night. Cigarettes that were habitual – with coffee. With the second coffee. Before lunch. After lunch. In the middle of the afternoon with another coffee. With my first cocktail at ‘cocktail hour.’ The subsequent drinks. After dinner. Before bed while on the phone. And now that’s over. At least I hope it is. “Well, it’s messing with my head, too, my dear doggie. We’ll get on with it together as best we can. Something tells me that you’ll break the habit much easier than me.”
Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: balance, consumption, greed, humour, life, mental health, money, power, priorities, relaxation, values, waste, work
My husband sent this to me – it made me smile, and it reaffirms my own priorities. I remember something I was told by a European when I first moved here – “Americans live to work, Europeans work to live.” May this remain true (even as I do think the contagion is spreading here…).
Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: conservation, Economics, Education, fossil fuels, Germany, humanity, humor, humour, Hungary, intelligence, Italy, life, nature, Poland, Politics, Russia, society, Syria, tolerance, USA, voting
“An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.” Martin Luther King
Even as I write this I know that I must continue to maintain hope for the sake of my young son and all that I know is excellent, beautiful, and good in this world. Intellectually I know there is so much. But emotionally it’s getting harder to believe this. I increasingly feel more impotent, discouraged, and disdainful with humanity and its actions. Not just what I read in various news outlets, but what I observe around me every time I leave the house. My sense of humor is failing me. I’ve noticed in recent months that I don’t laugh my big, open-mouthed laugh any more. This is stupid, too, ‘cause losing one’s sense of humor only makes matters worse. I’m not sure how to maintain strength, hope, and humor when all of the things that give me hope and joy (tolerance, kindness, intelligence, collectivism, excellence and the magnificent natural world) seem to be diminishing. I write this today in the hope that it will serve as a catharsis. In the hope that I’m not alone in my thinking.
So, here is the litany of global events that have happened in the last two years that, in my opinion, reflect societal values and are consequently undermining my belief that this world is fundamentally a righteous place:
Syria, with the aid of Russia, prompts a mass migration of immigrants to the EU, which in turn emboldens racist, xenophobic, & nationalistic ideology throughout Europe, threatening the basis and formation of the European Union.
England & Wales, as a result of a misinformation campaign (Facebook, Cambridge Analytica, Nigel Farage) withdraws from the European Union and takes Scotland and Ireland with it.
With the aid of the Electoral College, gerrymandering, voter suppression, and Russian interference, Donald Trump takes the USA White House.
Emmanuel Macron narrowly beats the right-wing Front National (since ‘rebranded’ and going stronger than ever in time for the European Elections in a couple of weeks, aided by the Yellow Vest movement).
Jair Bolsonaro is elected in Brazil and vows to ‘open up’ more of the Amazon to industrial interests.
A fascist right-wing party is elected to lead Italy. With Viktor Orban of Hungary, they call for leaders to be elected in the upcoming EU elections who will reduce immigration (wolf whistle for ideology that defies EU principles).
Germany has representatives in their parliament from the far right for the first time since the Third Reich.
Spain has representatives in their parliament from the far right for the first time since Franco.
Sweden narrowly maintains a Socialist government, as does the Netherlands, in relatively recent elections.
There are mass shootings in the USA almost weekly. There is encouragement to shoot immigrants by Trump. Immigrants looking for shelter stateside are separated from their families, caged, and “lost.” The meat and water that the populace eats and drinks are contaminated due to decreased FDA and EPA protections, as well as the loosening of controls on industrial practices. The American administration is attempting a coup in Venezuela, and alienating democratic countries that the USA has had global alliances with for a hundred years.
Public education around the world is under siege. Teachers work for noble reasons or they don’t know what else to do. Students and their parents increasingly value education as a means to get into a ‘good’ university in order to get a ‘good job,’ in order to earn a lot of money, rather than for learning in-and-of-itself. Arts and humanities are being cut throughout the world, even as they define civilizations.
The wealthy elude taxes that keep infrastructure present for everyone. Multi national corporations elude taxes. The poor resent taxes. Income inequality grows more disparate, and this in turn affects our collective gene pool (subsequent lifestyle habits, healthcare resources, educational opportunities, etc.).
And climate calamity is on the horizon.
What is the global response? It’s open season on wolves and bears – necessary creatures for healthy ecosystems. Trophy hunting laws and endangered animal protections are eased. The hyper rich want their wildlife pets to signify status. The Chinese still think rhino horns are medicinal. Poaching is rampant. Nature reserves are under attack. Japan has re-introduced commercial whaling. The Faroe Islands continue to have an annual ‘ceremonial’ whale slaughter. The Arctic melts but short-sighted people just want jobs on oilrigs and fishing tankers. Habitat destruction and deforestation are destroying animals and insects essential to life itself, as well as plants that make medicines that keep humans living longer than ever before.
Industrial and corporate interests dominate governments and cultures. Governments throughout the world continue to subsidize the fossil fuel industries, which in turn continue to spend millions of dollars each year to lobby against clean energy and to keep consumers addicted to their goods. Pollution is literally choking humanity, making our children sick, and killing our natural protections against this.
Today, despite the rest of Europe – France, Spain, Sweden, Denmark, Belgium, the Netherlands – fighting for 95% reduction of emissions by 2050, Italy, Hungary, Poland, and Germany rejected the motion. Reducing pollution and promoting sustainability is not in the interests of the powers that control many countries and their societies. And without governmental laws to MAKE people change their habits, there will be no real change.
And it’s not histrionic to say that if this doesn’t change, it means that we humans will then die after much suffering. We will face water scarcity, food shortage, illness, and war over resources…droughts, storms, fires, earthquakes will render populations homeless…animals, insects, and natural landscapes will be eliminated. But the planet will live on. Yes, we humans will take many of the current animal and natural species with us to our extinction, but eventually there will be new ones, and new forests, and new life. But it won’t include our children or us. Certainly not our children’s children.
What do we do? We continue to consume more than we need and to waste too much. We continue to have a lot of children. To eat a lot of meat that requires a great deal of land to harvest (not to mention what happens to the poor animals). To order things online that are shipped across the world because they’re ‘cheaper’. To buy disposable clothes, toys, plastic, goods of all kinds because we simply want them, they’re cheap, we don’t care what’s happening to the earth or to others, and because the measure of ‘success’ is material. We continue to drive huge, petrol/diesel guzzling cars. And fast, despite signs asking us to slow down ’cause speed effects emissions. We fly more than ever before in human history ‘cause we can. Finally, led by anger and fear stoked in mainstream media, we vote with our manufactured feelings rather than our reason. We vote for our own individual interests. Or we don’t vote at all.
This diatribe has, indeed, worked as a catharsis.
Even as I withdraw more these days and my humor is limited, I know that hope is not lost. The fight is not foregone. Feelings have not completely overridden reason. There are righteous folks fighting for all of us every day. Yes, Putin and his ilk are ruthlessly greedy for domination. Political leaders and would-be political leaders will exploit the anger and ignorance of the masses to their own end, creating backwards, unproductive societies for a generation or two. Most people will avoid their taxes unless they’re punished. Humans won’t want to reduce their creature comforts or to look directly into the face of their destructive habits. And humans without material goods will continue to want them. I don’t have any real power to affect the world on a macro level (if only – boy would I be good at being Queen of the world! Obviously modest).
What I CAN do is to focus my energies personally and politically:
- Personal life appreciated and a moderate lifestyle maintained – mostly ‘tick,’ though this can always be improved upon.
- A rewarding profession that helps the world in some way – mostly ‘tick.’
- Living according to my values – exalting beauty, excellence, intelligence; modeling curiosity, kindness, and tolerance; cherishing socialism, liberalism, and conservation – not quite a tick because I’ve been wallowing in anger and resentment towards humanity in general for awhile – but I am working on it.
- Voting for candidates who I believe will address at least a portion of the aforementioned injustices – tick.
- Supporting causes and action that will fight for conservation of the natural world (as well as humanity in general) – tick.
Filed under: The Pregnancy Diaries | Tags: alice b toklas, animals pregnant, change, disappointment, first trimester, France, house guests, life, mont blanc tunnel, Pre St. Didier, pregnancy
“I don’t mind that I’m fat. You still get the same money.” Marlon Brando
I went to secondary school in the Highlands of Scotland. My parents were teaching there, I was the youngest child, my siblings were at university, so I went with them. Anyway, a friend of mine from there and then, whom I’ve kept in touch with for over twenty years, came to visit me this last week in France. She had her only child when she was 16 years old, so her daughter is already out of the home and working. I’m three months pregnant with my first child. I’ve been having all these health ‘issues’ around pregnancy and am trying to relax (I feel like Peter Sellers’ character in I Love You Alice B. Toklas when he’s walking down the beach with the hippie guru) so I’m not the best person to hang out with at the moment given my concerns and my relatively ‘clean’ lifestyle, particularly in contrast to my behavior historically.
Even so, I wanted to show her a good time and one day I took her to a wonderful spa in Italy, Pre St. Didier at the base of Mont Blanc. I had to drive through the Mont Blanc tunnel, get lost several times with the Italian exits and directions (she was no help at all, lending credence to the stereotype that women are not concerned with directions), and sign waivers when I went to the spa so that they’re not liable if my baby cooks in my belly like rice in a bag. I was excited to go ‘cause my belly is JUST beginning to show…it’s hard and rounded and low. I find it miraculous. It’s so fundamental and animalistic. I feel like I’m the same as the horse with the foal, the goat with its kids, the cat with her kittens, and the dog down at my local café whose titties are heaving she’s so full of puppies. I’m proud of my little bump and even as I’m fat at the moment, I wanted to show it off. Keep in mind that I went to the spa to show my Scottish friend a nice day out. So we went in, it’s spacious, clean, and rustic yet modern, well organised, relaxed, and has gorgeous views, and a variety of spa activities and pools. However, I spent my day at the footbaths and the leg invigorator (you walk down one side with hot water up to your thighs, turn, go down a few steps, then walk down the other side with cold water up to your thighs). And, contrary to having a remarkable belly, almost all of the Italian women there had the same belly as I do! Not once did my friend crack a smile. When I asked her if she’d had a good time she rather stiffly replied, “Yes, ta.”
Later, upon return home, I had to go into the guest bedroom for something and I saw my friend’s open suitcase and various things splayed about the room. In this array, I saw at least FOUR pairs of different coloured, high, high-heels pumps! What had she imagined I could do when I was three months pregnant? Go dancing and clubbing? (Can I go dancing and clubbing?) I realised at age 17 that I’d be bored out of my mind at a club unless I was ‘mash up’…should I have gone anyway despite the inevitable boredom and the possibility that my child would have been traumatised by Euro dance music in order to entertain her? Dang. A day out at Pre St. Didier must have seem very tame, indeed, for her…
Victoria Jelinek 