July Wrap!

And July is done! (again, in about 12 hours or so but close enough)

How did it go? 

Reading: the bio/memoir: ended up reading two. The first one was No Job for a Man by John Ross Bowie, he's an actor but I started paying attention to him from his Instagram posts. Old punk rocker with that super strong social justice, in your face, vibe. I love his posts. His book was really good. He's very Gen X, I said his book review could probably just be "Whatever" and it would fit. A lot of shared touchstones, but he was a punk in New York City so he was what we all wanted to be. 

The second one was Everything All at Once by Stephanie Catudal. She's married to Tommy Rivs (runner I've written about before) and is Phil Catudal's sister (personal trainer I follow for his super positive outlook on life as much as really straight forward fitness tips). Her style of writing was something to get used to. Very much spiritual deep thought style. But it was enjoyable once I got past the really overwrought stuff. Her father died of lung cancer when she was younger and the book is written alternating between that time period, her growing up dealing (not dealing) with that and then Rivs getting cancer as well. Emotional read for sure.  

I told you about the self help book already...ugh.

The Fantastic Stranglings book (How Can I Help You by Laura Sims) was good. I'm not sure if it made Brent super comfortable, it's a story about a writer and a serial killer and you aren't sure by the end who is the real bad guy... 

I am 17 books ahead of schedule. Read a handful of comic collection books I've had on my side table for awhile. They are books even if they take about 30 minutes to read. And they for sure fall into that "read some of the books I already own instead of new" so....But yeah, it pushed me from 9 ahead of schedule to 17 ahead. Which is great, gives me even more wiggle room if I pick up a long book or a slow read. 

Writing is still on track. I banked an extra fiction pieces so I'm up two for the year (plus the ones I haven't published that I've been writing to send to Dana) and I'm up 26 nonfiction. So nicely braced there as well.

Did nothing but cardio for July. Not sure if it will break me out of the ennui when I pick back up weights in August but it was a nice break. Knowing that no matter how much I might not be excited to workout that it was going to take less than an hour and it would be done was great. 

Weaning off of the HRT so I'll need to pick up that weight training for sure because the loss of estrogen means loss of muscle tone. 

Dry July was easy peasy lemon squeezy. I am definitely in a sober stretch. I've gone years before where I just didn't drink and I think I've entered another cycle of that. Like I mentioned last month, the whole poison thing is bugging me more than it's not. And with letting go of HRT the effects are a lot worse for me. Like drinking causes hot flashes for me so why do that? I don't think I'm going completely sober, but I won't drink often. And since I don't miss it not often could be mai tais in Hawaii only. We will see. 

And the big change, the Facebook diet. How did that go? 

Well...good and bad. As it usually is. Like I said, I was still going to check in, and I did. When I'd post a blog I'd go poke around Facebook a little. Made a small handful of comments but not status updates. Also made sure to check notifications for my blog. I realized after the first few posts that I hate putting out the blog and having no feedback. Especially when it's a fiction piece. Oh my gosh...that was not okay. So I turned on notifications and treated that as something different than Facebook proper. 

I missed things. Updates on what people are doing. I really like the day to day things. What movies are you seeing, what vacations are you taking, what shoes did you wear. I miss that when I'm not on a lot. I did not miss the ads and the recommended posts and the people commenting on things with ignorant comments. I also didn't pick fights where I might have, or lecture where I thought about it. Which I think probably made a few of your lives better. 

I'm going to start posting again today, even though it's not technically August here. But I think August will be an ease in, lighter amount of posting, less time online overall still. I just have to figure out what that looks like. I don't want to go full bore. But I also don't want to walk away completely. Even though I've already had a lot of friends who have left Facebook, or social media altogether I still have a lot that haven't. And Threads and Instagram just don't give me the same level of connection that Facebook does. It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing. 

So August? Keep moving forward with writing and the reading blocks. The self help this month is a book about Wellness Culture so sort of a self help, sort of not, but I'm hoping it will be interesting. Readying Pageboy by Elliot Page as the bio/memoir. Looking forward to that one. I haven't gotten the title yet for the Fantastic Stranglings books so it might be another one that is a challenge to get in time depending on when she announces. 

Also have a family trip to Michigan, an upcoming uterine biopsy (oh fucking joy), and the basics of getting through the emotional quagmire that is August. 

I mean...yay...August. 

July Themes...

I wanted to write today, we are traveling next weekend and to make my weekly numbers I need to write every day this week before we leave. Three nonfiction pieces and a fiction piece for the blog; and something to send to Dana since Sunday is my day and we will be gone. So the plan was to WRITE. 

A few hours ago I told Brent: "I'm going to go write now." then I said: "She announces confidently though she has no idea what she is going to write about." Which led to a quick discussion that I should write about sex because my, still to this day, most popular blog ever was my one stab at writing a story with sex in it. Apparently people just love to read about sex. 

But then I sat down at the computer and thought Oh I'll just send Jan my books read for July first. And then when I picked up my phone I saw Katie had called so I called her back. Then I saw a notification for a sale I wanted to look at. Then I got Dana's piece for our exchange and I wanted to read that right away. Then I finished the article I had open on my phone that I had put to the side when Brent and I went to do some yard work and...

Finally I was back to thinking about writing and I had...no ideas. 

I decided to see what I had written on this day, or close to it in years past.

Apparently July 30 is kind of an ennui sort of time for me...I think it's that lead to August feeling. Another year on the planet and what have you done with your life sort of thing. So a lot of what are we doing here and what are we supposed to be doing and why the fuck are THEY doing that? And then there was also a good smattering of fiction, none of which I remembered at all, which was funny because I had JUST told Dana that I never remember my own stuff and here were the examples.

So I guess my July themes are...eh, I guess it's fine. 

What a depressing overarching theme. Though my guess is if I picked any random date and read the 14 blogs written on that date it would be similar. I spent a lot time in the early years sort of telling stories about my past. Then I started to dip into more and more politics. Then just life in general. And when I started posting the fiction those got threaded in. And of course a lot of my fiction is in similar themes. Not really uplifting stuff, a lot of things that lead you down the wrong path while you are reading. And of course that one really popular porn piece. 

And it's funny because I think of myself of a fairly optimistic person. I think of myself as being a little lighter than that. Kind of sunshine and swear words. But apparently I am storm clouds...and swear words. Or maybe the world is storm clouds and I'm out here trying to make sense of it all...with swear words.

Either way at least I got a blog out of it today. 

And I have most of you trying to remember what the name of the porn piece was so you could go read it again...

Oh That's a Metaphor...

Brent is a gadget guy. He LOVES him some gadgets. If they have technology behind them, or are green in some way (environmental, not color) even better. But he LOVES gadgets. Instagram has figured out how much he loves gadgets and pushes little "you need this" videos at him all the time. Which, if he agrees, he sends to me. I'm the gatekeeper. If it looks cool to me as well I'll do a little research and then order. If not I just close the video and shake my head. Most of the time it works. Sometimes the package shows up at the door anyway. 

So a few weeks ago he sent me a little clip of someone with a little bamboo tray under their mixer and it made it slide easily. Oh well this is actually something that would be useful. I did a little quick research to see if it really did work as smoothly as she was showing and everyone who has a heavy Kitchenaid mixer was like YES! This is the thing I never knew I needed and now know I always did! 

I bought it. I set it up. And it's wonderful. Slide out to use, slide back under the cabinet when done. Easy peasy...

Except when I slid it back last week and got a pinky full of bamboo slivers from a rough edge I hadn't noticed. Son of a bitch...I do fully understand how bamboo under the fingernails could lead to whatever confession you wanted. These were in the skin on the side of the finger and I'm pretty sure I told Brent I personally faked the moon landing and was the third shooter in the JFK assassination. 

I got out the slivers and moved on with life. 

A few days later the spot hadn't really healed up yet. There was a bump there. Hunh, must not have gotten them all out. Bamboo is pale, my skin is pale, it's not easy to see them; easy enough to fix. Got the magnifying glass back out and poked around a little and oh yeah there was a really long one still there. Pulled it out and went on with life. 

Yesterday I'm looking at my finger and it's STILL not all the way healed and there is still a bump there. Back out with the glass, shine the bright light on it, get out the other smaller set of tweezers and pull out yet another piece. It's starting to remind me of that trip to Hawaii where the stinger thing in the ocean got the arch of my foot in the gap between my foot and my swim fin and I was pulling out tiny little stingers for weeks. 

How much bamboo is in there?

I'm not willing to say it's all gone just yet. I'll wait and see if it heals this time. Or if there is more work to do. 

In the meantime I'll keep moving on with life. 

Trauma is like that. Sometimes we think we've got it all taken care of. Have moved on with our lives and then...Oh wait, that's not healed just yet. 

The best we can do is just keep working at it. Keep pulling those slivers out. Keep treating the wound. Keep moving forward the best that you can. 

And do pay attention to the gadgets your husband is looking at or you will end up with a house full of stuff...

Voices In Their Heads...

"I want everyone to freeze. Don't move. Keep your hands exactly where they are. Now look around the room."

The laughter started right away. Most of the class had their hands up touching their mutes.

"It's a normal reaction and one I'd guess a lot of you didn't even realize you were doing. Right about now you are grateful for something you normally don't think a lot about. Imagine the whole world thinking you were crazy for hearing voices. A lot of time and money was spent to fix these people."

"Is it true that they would cut up people's brains?"

"Lobotomy. Yes. They would selectively slice out portions of the brain to try to cure them."

"But there was nothing wrong with them."

"There wasn't. But they didn't know that at the time. All they knew was that the majority of people did not hear voices other than their own, and this small handful of people would swear that they did. So obviously the small group was sick. Their brains were malfunctioning.

They were the leading edge of an advancement in the human condition. Evolutionary head start. It should have proceeded more rapidly after the first few people, but the challenge was that for an evolutionary advantage to take hold you need to pass along those advantages to the next generation. Another component in treating these people was in preventing them from reproducing. Forced sterilization was common at the time. Either through surgery or through chemicals."

"That's illegal."

"It is now. It actually was supposed to be then as well, but... Now I want you all to understand, your ancestors weren't barbarians. They just didn't know any better. And the ones that were like us didn't have a way to quiet the voices. Have any of you ever had your mute fail?"

A few hands went up.

"And what was that like for you?"

Those that had raised their hands made faces. 

"When I was around your age and studying this portion of history for the first time I wanted to try an experiment in living without my mute on. I thought I'd go a week without it and see what it was like. I made it for 6 hours. The constant barrage of noise and chatter and intrusive ideas was overwhelming. I couldn't make them all take turns and not talk over each other. I had to turn back on the mute. Imagine not knowing what those voices were. Imagine everyone around you not hearing them. Imagine a time that you thought you were alone in the universe. And then imagine hearing the multiverse in your head. It's no wonder they thought they were crazy.

Now of course, we have mutes and tuners. We can isolate one voice and listen to them, we can surf the white noise of every voice at one time, we can quiet them all and just live with our own thoughts. We get to choose when we hear the rest of the multitude. And even when we quiet all of the other voices, we know we are never really alone."

This was his favorite part of teaching this unit. When they realized what not hearing the voices had really meant. He watched as realization moved from face to face. Their ancestors thought they were alone. 

"They never knew that every space they stood in, someone else stood there as well. Multitudes stood there with them. Just at a slightly different wavelength. Just at a slightly different pitch. But still there. With them. All of them together moving through their own worlds at the same time. Living the same life, but not the same way. Never alone. Always together. They thought it was just them. Singular. Not realizing that they were multitudes. Can you imagine the loneliness they felt?"

The room was quiet then. 

A few hands slowly reaching up to their mutes to tune into another frequency, just for a moment. Just to feel connected to all that they were. 

Grateful for the voices in their heads. 

Voices In My Head...

I hear voices in my head. 

I mean, I guess you all knew that already. 

I write fiction. You can't write fiction without hearing voices in your head. 

But those aren't the only voices in my head. 

There are a lot of voices in my head. Sometimes it's my mother. Sometimes it's my father. Sometimes it's other voices from the past.

Last week I dropped a knife when I was pulling a plate over the counter to the sink. I jumped out of the way so it didn't land on my toes, but it did scrape my leg on the way by. Not a bad cut, almost looked like a bit of road rash kind of scrape. 

When it happened I heard an exasperated: "Darlin...at least you didn't try and catch it this time. But pants and steel toe boots in the kitchen."

"Even if the pants are on backwards?"

"Touché. But then again I'm not the one bleeding out."

*sigh*

Everything about that conversation is from ones held in the past. From the darlin to the time I tried to catch a knife out of instinct and JUST pulled my hand back in time to not close on the blade to the backward pants and the word touché. All still in my head ready to form new conversations with a friend who is no longer here. 

When I get dressed and put on something a little more revealing than I'm comfortable with I hear my friend Marcy as I'm putting on a lace modesty panel, or adjusting a scarf magnet to keep the neck closed a little. Trying to get it all adjusted just right and her voice says, "Or...just leave it the way it is." She's a lot bolder with my cleavage than I am. 

I hear Dana's voice either gently telling me I could write just a little something today and see how I feel about it, no pressure, or other times agreeing with me that YouTube videos totally count as research. She's supportive like that. 

I have so many conversations with Brent in my head that I have to ask him sometimes if we really talked about something or if it was all just me.

Today it was Sara's turn. 

"I need to trim my bangs."

"DO NOT do that when they are wet."

"I KNOW. You taught me how to trim them in case of emergency a long time ago."

"Your hair is wet."

"I'm just looking at them right now to see how much I want to take off."

"I can see the scissors in your hand."

"I'm just holding them to reinforce the idea that I really need to trim them and not forget again."

"DO NOT TRIM THEM WHEN THEY ARE WET." 

"I'M NOT GOING TO."

(stern voices, not shouting, we don't yell)

"I'd believe you a lot more if you put down the scissors."

"Fine! I'll go make the bed and wait for them to dry. Happy?"

"Show me when you are done and I'll let you know."

"See? Not much off, they are dry and any real issues you can fix in a few weeks."

I'm assuming she is fine with it. And already knows she's going to have to trim off a lot more in a few weeks so all of the things she can see I did wrong will be fixed then. 

There are a lot of voices in my head. And I argue with all of them...

Quick...

I'm writing this just to say I've been writing this week, I just haven't written anything for the blog. Which makes it look like I haven't been writing more days than not. Even though I have totally written more days than not. But it also doesn't move the counter for the three nonfiction one fiction tally for the week. BUT that is an average and technically I have extra blogs in the bank just for moments like this one. I mean for the month of July I only need to hit two nonfiction for the rest of the month and I'll be at the monthly number I set at the beginning of the year. Without even dipping in to the extras from previous months.

AND....

Okay, yeah, this is just flat out a space taking blog to remind myself that I did write even though when I look back at this week later I will think I messed up. 

But I sent a fiction piece to Dana on Sunday. That I wrote on Sunday. And yeah, I should have written that in pieces the whole week ahead, but it still counts. And I wrote a couple of letters today. Which seems like it shouldn't count, but these particular letters are really like mini blog posts. A little current politics, a little life lesson stuff, a reminder that the recipient is loved. They would totally be blogs if they weren't personalized. 

So this is just flat out a THIS TOTALLY COUNTS piece. 

Leaving me a little breathing room to figure out a fiction piece for here and two more nonfiction the rest of the week instead of looking like I hadn't written anything since last Friday. Which most decidedly would fall out of the write more days than not parameters. And I have totally written more days than not, I just haven't posted more days than not. Which this sort of makes up for!

It's not cheating if I'm the one making up the rules!

Today!

I used to love going to the movies. Just a few years ago it was one of my very favorite things to do. For my birthday we would often see multiple movies in one weekend. Just spend as much time at the theater as possible. 

The pandemic changed that. We got used to watching on the big TV at home. And, granted, we have a nice set up. The really big TV, the sound bar, the comfy couch, the blackout curtains. It all works nicely. I found that I really didn't miss the movie theater much. And then when the pandemic was over and we went to see a couple of things in the theater I realized I really prefer watching at home.

It means I don't get to see things right away. I see things knowing more about them than I would like. I don't get to be part of the fun buzzy talk on opening weekend. But I also don't have anyone kicking my seat, or talking, or chewing loudly. I don't have to sit through a half hour of previews. I can pause the movie if I need to pee and not miss anything. I can set the volume at the right level and not get my ears blasted out. 

The positives outweigh the negatives. 

So all of that to say I'm not seeing Barbie or Oppenheimer this weekend. Even though in my past life I would probably be one of those Barbenheimer people seeing both. I think they will both be really good. Very different, but both good.

I love Greta Gerwig. I think she makes really clever stuff. I enjoy Margot Robbie. I think she's super talented. I just think it's going to be a fun movie with a lot more going on than people originally thought when they heard the title. 

I trust Christopher Nolan. You know how some directors you start rolling your eyes as soon as they are announced? Nolan for me is the opposite. I will go on whatever journey he is taking me on and trust that it's going to be good (to be fair I have not seen Tenet). Cillian Murphy is amazing. Emily Blunt and Florence Pugh are favorites. I mean, this is going to be amazing. 

And we will wait and watch them in a few months and it will be fine. 

I am feeling very nostalgic for my Barbies right now. I had a good sized collection. Even had the Barbie Dream House with Working Elevator (you pulled a string and it went up, you let go and it crashed down). I'm not sure how my parents afforded it but I got that and a huge wardrobe/accessory collection one year for Christmas. I also played with them for much longer than most. I was probably 12 before I abandoned them altogether.  And, I'm sure this is going to be a real shock to you all, they had really complex storylines. I told big stories with a ton of dialog and I think the best part is I didn't have to name anyone. They were already named. Barbie, Ken, Skipper, Midge, GI Joe...easy peasy. 

Though years later watching a special on Barbie history I realized that I didn't actually have a Midge, I had one of the original Barbies with brunette hair. She had been a hand me down from someone. I would think Susan but she still had her hair and Susan tended to cut off all of her dolls' hair, I had a bald Barbie who had no name, at least not outloud, in my head I called her Crazy Sue. So even when I had names I had the wrong names!

So part of me really wants to be see the Barbie movie today. But it will be okay. I'll wait. And I'll pretend I've made my own Barbie movie with a torrid love affair between Ken and Midge and GI Joe coming in to kidnap Barbie making them all realize that her house was a little too crowded with all of them living there anyway...and..and...and...

Okay, maybe not.

What I will be excited to see today is the opening game for the USWNT in the World Cup. There is a Thorns game tonight as well, but it's starting before the other would finish and when we have conflicting games we always choose the more important one. And World Cup is THE important tournament. 

Let's Fucking Go!!

This Barbie is watching World Cup....

Hospital Coffee...

My mother used to say the best way to get through your own troubles was to help someone else with theirs. Which is how I ended up in the hospital cafeteria having a cup of coffee with Frank. 

Of course as I got older I realized that what my mother was more accurately saying was the best way to avoid your own problems is to not think about them. Either way I'd be getting that cup of coffee.

The problem started with the phone call. 

"Is this Nancy Greyson?"

"Yes, this is she."

"Ms. Greyson your (did I imagine the pause here or was there really an awkward pause here?) husband has been in an accident. He is in the ICU at Methodist General. Do you know where we are located?"

That pause. I'm sure it was a pause. It let me know it was bad. Is he my husband or was he my husband? What was I rushing into?

It was bad. The accident was bad. They had to cut him out with the jaws of life. The car had flipped twice. It was bad. 

The nurses looked at me with pity in their eyes and whispered to each other as I walked past. At first I thought it was a sign of how bad it really was. Physically. But then I caught..."not alone...." "does she know?" and a hushing when I walked out of the room. 

So here I sat in the cafeteria having coffee with Frank.

"You know, it's weird but this is a surprisingly good cup of coffee. Is that bad to say? I mean in movies and in books hospital coffee is always terrible. They make a point of how terrible it is. But this is..." he trailed off.

"It is good. I think writers use bad coffee as a shorthand for how bad it is to be waiting in a hospital. And nobody wants to say that one of the best cups of coffee they ever had was in a hospital cafeteria while their loved one was in surgery. It's either that or coffee in other hospitals really is bad but since we are in the PNW they felt it was just too cruel to add bad coffee to the trauma of being here." I smiled hoping he would as well. 

He did. 

I watched him. Trying to see myself in his face. See the worry around the eyes. The set of his jaw as he held himself together. The way he seemed to be aging in fast forward as we sat both waiting to hear from the ward nurses that our loved ones were back in their rooms. Hopeful. Fearful. 

Were we the same?

"She wasn't..." he started then stopped. "You don't want to hear this. You have your own worries."

I hadn't mentioned who I was waiting on. Or why. Just that they were in surgery and I had overheard that his wife was as well so did he want to grab some coffee? 

"It's okay. You can talk to me while you wait for your people to get here."

His people. I was assuming he would have people coming. If I had called anyone I would. My sisters for sure. My best friend. Maybe even a few co-workers whom I was close with. They would want to support me. I just wasn't ready yet to ask for the support. I wasn't sure how much I was going to need. Better to focus on Frank.

He looked at his watch. "My son will be here later. I told him to stay in class, to go ahead and go to football practice, to not come until the end of the day, that there was nothing to do here but wait so he shouldn't rush over. I didn't tell him how bad it was. If she..." he stared at his hands "if she doesn't make it through the surgery he will probably never forgive me for not telling him to rush over but..."

"I understand. There are no easy answers. My father had a heart attack when I was living in another state. I didn't rush home on the first plane because doing so would mean that I didn't believe he was going to survive. And I needed to believe that. He did. But I do wonder sometimes how I would have felt if he hadn't."

"I don't know why she wasn't at work. She said she was working late tonight. Would be at the office until late. They called me at 2 in the afternoon. They said the accident happened downtown. She doesn't work downtown. We don't live downtown. She wasn't where she said she would be. I don't know why. I keep asking myself that."

"Working lunch maybe. Or a trip to see a client?"

"She doesn't do that sort of work. I don't think I've ever heard of her going to lunch or visiting clients. It's just...I don't know why she was there. And..." his face changed slightly. The sadness in his eyes replaced for a moment with something else. "Her car is at the park and ride near the house. She wasn't in her own car. I don't think she was even in the office today."

I took a deep breath. "There could be a good reason." I looked at him again. Searching his face. Looking to see if I recognized anything in him. 

Was he like my husband at all. Was I like his wife? Or had they chosen each other because they weren't like us.

My phone buzzed. A text message from the shift nurse letting me know that my husband was out of surgery and on his way back to his room. 

I put my phone down and picked up the cup of coffee. "It is a good cup of coffee. Did you want another?"

Update...

Went to the doctor's this morning. And boo...

So remember how I wrote that if I had to choose between bleeding and hot flashes I might just choose the hot flashes? Well, guess what? It's not a choice. Bleeding is contraindicated for HRT so the choice has been made. I will take a month to transition off the hormones and then no more HRT for me. 

I also am going to have another round of testing to see what all is happening. She is starting with the ultrasound not the biopsy. If the ultrasound shows anything concerning then we go the biopsy route. She was very funny this morning, "What was your experience with the biopsy you had last year?" she asked very tentatively. 

"It hurt." I left the words LIKE FUCK off but my face was broadcasting LIKE FUCK for sure.

She made an apologetic face even though she wasn't the one to do it and was like, "That's why I like to start with the ultrasound, but we may have to do a biopsy depending on results."

"That's fine. I understand that. But I would much rather start with the ultrasound."

BECAUSE THE BIOPSY HURT LIKE FUCK!

And I still cannot believe that it's a test you are allowed to do without some sort of pain killer. I mean honestly.

But no more HRT for me. 

Which is a bummer. I mean, the bleeding is annoying and I probably would have made that choice anyway if I was given the choice, but...

The hot flashes and night sweats had stopped.
The mood swings had abated.
My sleep was better (not sure if it was a lifting of insomnia in general or the hot flashes not waking me)
My skin wasn't as dry (not just in my vaginal canal, but all over, face, arms, legs too)
And I think it was giving me a little protection from my food issues again. My once a quarter cheat meals weren't affecting me much. Like very little pain and discomfort. 

We will see what all comes roaring back after this break. 

But if I have to hook back up the BedJet and get one of those personal fans and start slathering myself in lotion again then I will. 

Because as much as I will bitch about it, HRT just isn't for me apparently. 

Not every medical treatment is for everybody. The real pisser is the lack of research we have on a variety of female bodies to be able to say, okay, this didn't work, we can try this other thing. We really don't have a lot of options. And even the options we do have don't have a lot of research behind them. 

It sucks. 

But I was able to get the automatic refill on my prescription cancelled and I won't have to pay the high cost for the ultrasound (Yay for reaching our deductible!) and I'll know that I tried. 

Yeah, it still sucks. 

Help Yourself #7...

FINALLY the book with the fun title that Skippy recommended was available at a convenient time to be this month's self help book! (Disclaimer: Skippy had not read the book, she just thought the title sounded fun, and I agreed)

So this month's book was Existential Kink. 

Which isn't that a great fun title? Well, wait, there's more...

This month's book was Existential Kink: Unmask Your Shadow and Embrace Your Power (A method for getting what you want by getting off on what you don't) by Carolyn Elliott

Sort of changes it a bit from a kind of funky, eye catching title to, well that's a lot.

But let me just tell you...

Do not read this book. 

Honestly, it's a fucking hot mess of a book.

I knew I was in trouble in the first introduction chapter (aside from the first bit of this might be a problem when I saw the full title) when she blended Roman and Greek gods to tell her story of what Existential Kink was and ended up with a story where Persephone actually split into two to create her own rapist to experience it because...reasons? (The whole time blending Roman and Greek stories, which though some are very similar are not actually the same)

After that opening I checked the estimated reading time and saw it was only a couple of hours so figured, well, I'll do it. Maybe it gets better?

People, it does not. 

Her premise is that we must enjoy the negative things in our lives or they wouldn't be there and the way to work with them is to admit we enjoy them and embrace that. And by enjoy I mean, ENJOY. Truly like you get off on people being shitty to you, or working in a dead end job so you might as well get off on it and enjoy the kink of liking shitty things. 

Which is some next level victim blaming. I mean she goes out of the way to say she's not victim blaming but then talks about her own abusive relationship she was in and how she finally realized that she really liked the amount of control she had over him. Like she was a drug to him that he had to manage, too much and he'd become unhinged, just enough and he could function and...what the fuck? I mean, this is you using abuser gaslighting talk TO YOURSELF. "Oh, baby, I only hit you because I love you so much I can't bear the thought of..."

Again, do not read this book. 

And when I say get off on it, I mean you are supposed to find a quiet time and space to focus on what your issue is. Light a candle, burn some incense, think about what the issue is and admit to yourself how much you really like it...until you feel it in your genitals. You don't have to orgasm, but it would be better if you did. Yup...

And here's another fun part. Remember how I had a problem with last month's book because the author talked about being in a cult and I felt like I couldn't trust her to tell me how to live when clearly she had some issues there in her own life. Well...chapter two of this book the author starts talking about Orgasmic Meditation WHICH IS THE FOUNDATION OF THE CULT FROM THE LAST BOOK! I mean...come on! So at least the author from last month finally realized that it was cult, while this one is still advocating for people to give it a try. I mean what's the worst that could happen if a bunch of women sign up to let strange men "teach them" how to meditate through orgasm. Which she doesn't mention that part, just casually drops in the OM mention and how good it is for you to learn. 

Do not read this book.

She also does this blending of witchcraft, religion, mindfulness and BDSM writing from the standpoint of someone who is clearly not wiccan, religious, mindful or part of the BDSM lifestyle. It was all just a hot mess of "that's not how that works, that's not how any of that works."

It reminded me of when the 50 Shades books were released and the people I knew that were into the lifestyle were just tearing it to shreds. And I had to believe them that they were right and she had no idea what she was talking about because 1. They were in the lifestyle and 2. There is a passage in the book where the main character casually jogs from a college campus in Vancouver to a hotel in Downtown Portland (about 20 miles) and there were scenes of watching the sunset from places that face east, so I knew she didn't really do a lot of research. 

When you mix your Roman and Greek mythology and no editor corrects you I know research isn't your strong suit.

And it so shows. 

Now, on to the good part. I mean...well...

Okay, so there is a nugget of truth in what she was pushing, just not the way she was pushing it. 

Often when we find ourselves in repeated patterns of destructive behavior there is a part of it that suits our needs. Now, the need it could be suiting is the need for familiarity. The need for comfort in knowing what comes next. And usually that's all subconscious level and as soon as we figure out that we keep seeking out the same types of situations and deal with it, we can move past it. We heal old patterns and figure out better ways. 

And sometimes it is not just familiarity but that we actually do like something about it that other people say is negative and so we pretend we hate as well. We all have that friend who will swear they hate drama but live drama filled lives. And will create drama if everything is going too smoothly. Somewhere in their heads they clearly don't hate it. 

So there is something in there, and it's not a new concept at all. Lots of books and studies and self help out there to help you break out of those repetitive patterns.

Without deciding that you really are just deeply turned on by the negative patterns and deciding to keep pursuing them to get off on it and live a full life that way... (do not read this book)

What would 20 year old me get out of this book? 

Well nothing. She would have tossed it to the side as soon as the Persephone story culminated in her creating her own rapist to try it out. 

Again...my recommendation:

Do not read this book. 

Onto the next!

Sunday...

It's been a sort of lazy Sunday.

Brent and I slept in (7:40 before we rolled out of bed which is basically 8 which is practically 10 which is like sleeping until noon) then worked on the sprinklers in the front. I replaced a couple of the heads but we have one type of system and the replacement parts I bought were for another and they aren't quite right. We could replace the entire sprinkler assembly or just wait until Tuesday when the irrigation guy is coming to fix and issue with the drip system in the back yard and see if he can fix the spray pattern in the front...

I voted for waiting. Brent was all ready to go back to Lowe's and get a whole new assembly and try that. All I could picture was the fact that it had already moved from this will be a quick screw turn fix to an oh this one piece needs to be replaced to now this OTHER piece needs to be replaced and where would it end?

Which is kind of always the theme with home projects right? Rarely is it actually the one quick thing you think you need to do. You start there and it just grows outward. 

Sort of like when I had Brent's military certificates framed and ended up buying a new couch. 

Which then indirectly led to us moving in to a new house. 

It spirals is what I'm saying. 

And, of course, the ironic thing is that those original framed pieces still aren't on the walls here. 

It spirals and it becomes something else entirely.

So, anyway, I'm waiting until Tuesday to see if the irrigation guy can make it work. 

I'm already tired of having a yard. I wish the HOA didn't make you have one. I would tear it out so fast it would make your head spin. There would be a lovely decorative rock and wildflower landscape out there. Or maybe clover. I've seen a few all clover lawns and they are really lovely. Lower maintenance. Lower water needs. Still green but with flowers so everybody is happy.

After I finished futzing with the sprinklers and Brent did some moving of the mulch and the drainage rocks we retired to the back porch and enjoyed the shade and the breeze. It's going to be another 90 degree day today but that back area stays shady for a while so it's pretty pleasant even on the hottest days. That was a good project. 

That started out as one thing and spiraled into more. 

But the end result is great. 

Mostly. I mean I already know I want to change some of the plants that were put in. Take out the ones right on the fence line with Pam's house. I think we are going to dig the dirt back from the fence and put down river rock then get some planters for that area instead of the things that are there now. I don't think they are that pretty and Brent is worried about the dirt touching the wood and rotting it quicker than it should. 

Projects spiral. 

I've decided to wait a season to see the yard in full before I start yanking shit out, but I'm pretty sure that at least those things will go. And possibly some of the decorative grasses they filled our corner rock feature with. I'm not sure I care about those. Might replace them with some prettier ground cover type plants. Ones that are green, but with flowers instead of just green and yellow grass. 

Part of the problem I have is that the things I grew up with in a yard that I think (because I grew up with them) are perfect are desert things. They wouldn't last the winter or the wet springs. So I'm trying to figure out what will work and what won't. What looks good and what doesn't. 

When I sit out on my shaded lovely back porch I stare at the yard and think about the things I want to change. 

But for now it's just thinking about them. 

Nice sort of lazy Sunday morning. 

Good Intentions...

"So this is it?"

"Well, yeah."

"Hunh."

"What do you mean 'hunh'?"

"I mean...it's not much to look at is it?"

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Just something more. I mean this is just basically a hole in the ground isn't it?"

"It's a bit more than that!"

"But is it? I mean...."

"It's the literal Gateway to Hell! I'd say that's a bit more than a hole in the ground."

"There's no gate. There aren't even any guards. It's just a hole."

"Why would there be guards? Nobody is going to want to go in. There are probably guards on the other side to keep things from coming out."

"Or...it's just a hole in the ground."

"So what about that?"

"The sign? Anybody could put up a sign. And why Latin? Like, if it's Hell THE Hell, it's been around a lot longer than the Latin language. There are a lot of languages older than Latin."

"Well, I mean, we are in the basement of a Catholic church so the Latin makes sense."

"Maybe, but that's the other part, why build a church over the Gateway to Hell? Isn't that like the opposite of what you want? Or maybe they just used this to scare people. You know, drag them down in the basement to show them where they'd be thrown if they didn't 'willingly' convert?"

"I think they built the church here as sort of a guard. You know, if anything did break out of Hell the first thing it would encounter is a church which would sort of repel it back."

"So the Catholics were just wandering around and found this place and built a church to protect everyone?"

"Well, no, I mean there's some evidence that this was a Toltec site first, then the Aztecs, then the Catholic church built on that."

"Oh, now I see. The Catholic church zeroed in on an ancient Toltec religious site, that the Aztecs carried on with and instead of trying to win souls with a better message they did their thing and called it a Gateway to Hell and look how we are protecting you from these horrible other religions that wanted to lead you DIRECTLY TO HELL! How very Catholic of them."

"All religions build on other religions, right?"

"Sure, sure...and some just demonize those that came before them and take over. And in this case like literally demonized right? I mean the Gateway to Hell? Seems extreme even for the Catholics, but if that's all they had."

"Maybe, maybe the Toltec and the Aztecs knew it was a Gateway to Hell and they were protecting it as well? And when Catholicism took over they took over the protection? Maybe it's not so cynical as you are thinking."

"Sure, you go with that. Say a few Hail Marys and an Our Father and see me in the morning."

"I thought it was cool."

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm being difficult. It is cool. Even if I was imagining the Gateway to Hell as being a little more grand. You know, like big ebony stones on either side, slick and cool and so black they seem to be absorbing the light. And gates that look that they are carved from bone that was then charred to black. Ornate scrollwork depicting scenes of earthly delights flowing into eternal torments. Fallen angels with flaming swords guarding the entrance. Their wings made of the blackest feathers. So shiny and soft looking that you are tempted to reach out and touch them. But their faces stop you. Beautiful. But too beautiful. Too perfect. Something deep in your gut reacting to them the way you would a cobra. Don't touch. Back away slowly. 

But your feet would be stuck. You wouldn't be able to tear yourself away from the dark, glorious, beauty you were seeing. The walls, the gates, the guards. This is your punishment for the life you had lead. This is your reward. When your feet did finally start to move you'd go towards the gate, not away. You'd realize that yes, this is where you belonged. Where you had always belonged. Where you had lived your life hoping to be. And the gates would open for you. And you would walk through them. Shedding your mortal skin to find your own black wings waiting for you."

She finished speaking and watched as he walked through the gateway and down the path to Hell. He had brought her here hoping to impress her with something she had never seen before. Instead she showed him what it really was. What he had really earned. 

She shook her wings out for a moment before tucking them back into her body. Hidden from the world. From the priest she would pass on her way out. 

Protecting the world from the Gateway to Hell. 

How adorable.  

Here We Go Again...

I've already sent a message to my doctor, so no need to nag me. 

I've started to bleed again. July 1 for about a week. Really light but clearly a period trying to get a foothold. And then today it was back. Super light. Just a pink wash on the toilet paper but clearly something is happening. 

When it first happened I told Brent that I knew it was a side effect of the HRT so I guess it's here. Now I just have to decide which is more annoying, the hot flashes or having a period again. 

His vote was for hot flashes. Mine might be too. But only because I haven't had them in so long I've sort of tucked that misery back very far in my head. Not completely though. I can remember how exhausted I was because I couldn't get any sleep from the heat. 

But bleeding is annoying. Like constantly annoying. I was so excited to not bleed. I'm back to wishing they would just take my uterus out so I never have to worry about it again. I don't need it. I've not needed it for decades. Now it's just a source of worry each time it coughs and tries to get the factory started again. 

And when I looked up the side effects to see why it would happen twice in a month, like is it supposed to be only like a period or is it break through anytime bleeding, that's when I saw that it was only supposed to be a possibility during the first 6 months of HRT, not 10 months later. 

Well fuck. 

So we will see if I have to go through that whole battery of tests again. I have a different doctor I'm seeing, and it could still be a reaction to the HRT but...

I really hope not. I mean that shit hurt. 

And of course it brings me back to the low level disgust of how little we know about women's health in general. We don't study things that only affect women. It's just not a priority. The only reason I even considered HRT in the first place was friends overseas who did it and had great results. The levels and benefits I learned more about from Katie who has picked it up through trans messages boards. I mean it should be part of any gynecologist's study, shouldn't it? Should it be a full term of learning at least? 

Menopause health care in general, with HRT study as part of that. Like I'm going to be menopausal for longer than I was not (hopefully). Why am I the one having to seek out information of what to expect and how to treat the symptoms instead of it just being a "what to expect when you're never expecting again" moment?

The good (?) news is if I do have to have the full battery of tests again they will at least be mostly free to me. We hit our big deductible early this year with Brent's trip to the ER. From here through December we are free medical, baby! Which, of course, means that I won't have to have the full battery this time and it will be a quick e-med visit situation. 

Hopefully.

But still, ugh. It's just all so annoying. I'll be 55 next month. I would like to be on the coasting through life part of my medical journey. No more periods. No more perimenopause symptoms. No more mood swings and hot flashes. Just done with that shit. 

I'll let you all know what I find out. 

If I Could...

The list had started playing in her head. The seminar would finish at 3, the group would then head to one of the smaller breakout rooms where they would talk about the things they had learned and how they were going to apply them once they got back into the office tomorrow, possibly, most likely, there would be a request for a written proposal on their action plan. Then the suggestion would be made to have a team building drink before heading for home. It would be just a suggestion, of course, but you couldn't very well say no to your boss suggesting the whole team get a drink when they had just "given" you all the day off to attend this very helpful leadership seminar. 

Work finally done she'd head home around 6:30. Begging off earlier than most but not the first to leave but duty calls, gotta go!

And duty would call.

She'd call her husband in the car before leaving to make sure he had made dinner for the kids, when history shows she would find out that he hadn't yet gotten around to it and would she mind picking up a pizza on her way? He'd call it in for her and have it ready to go when she got there...She'd get to the pizza place by 6:45 just as they were hanging up the phone with her husband who had finally called to order dinner. She'd get home by 7:20 only to find the kids had helped themselves to bowls of cereal, they were STARVING, and were hopped up on sugar and pent up energy from their day's activities.

She'd stuff a piece of pizza in her mouth while trying to corral them and manage homework checks and special project timelines. And then she'd clean the kitchen, how did they dirty this many dishes just having cereal? And the dog would need to be walked, which honestly isn't that bad of a chore to do; it sometimes got her about a half hour of quiet. Sometimes. Unless their neighbors were out with their dogs and then it got her a half hour of listening to all of the ways she was personally disappointing the HOA. Tonight would probably be a disappointments night, afterall it was trash day and she would guess that the trash bin was not, in fact, wheeled back up to the side yard by 6:30. 

Coming back in from the dog walk it would be time to get the kids settled down and in to bed. This would be a stressful 45 minutes of teeth brushing, showering, oh I forgot that I need four dozen cookies each with the name of a kid in my class piped on them by tomorrow morning, gluten free, nut free and dairy free, I'd help make them but it's bedtime, thanks, Mom, you're the greatest. 

Her husband would love to help but he's got a report that's due first thing tomorrow and it will probably take him at least an hour to finish it up. Which means at least an hour of surfing the web before he settles in to work on what will actually take him about 10 minutes, but those Only Fans accounts aren't going to support themselves so add another hour on to that first hour and ten minutes and he'll be right there to help you out. 

Kids in bed, cookies finished, her own action plan written up for work tomorrow, she will settle in for some "Me time" which works out to enough time to brush and floss her teeth and wash her face before falling in to bed at 11:45 trying to fall asleep to the sounds of her husband's snoring as he would have beat her to sleep by at least an hour. 

She was pulled back in to focus as the seminar speaker repeated themselves, "Let me say that again. We all have excuses for why we don't have the time to follow our dreams. But that's all they are. Excuses. Now think, if you knew you wouldn't fail, if you ignored all of your excuses not to try, what would you do? Do that. Start now." 

She smiled. Dorothy, the lead from the sales division leaned over, "Did you think of something great?"

 
She just shook her head. Dorothy might not think it was a great idea.

The first thing she'd do? She'd murder this speaker. Oh you can't breathe because my hands are around your trachea? Just sounds like an excuse to me! Try harder! 

Forgiveness...

Interesting discussion on Threads today about forgiveness. 

Valerie Bertinelli* linked a post talking about how you should forgive to complete your healing journey and said that she respectfully disagreed with that position. That you can heal just fine without forgiving someone. 

A lot of people disagreed. A lot of people agreed. And a lot of people said well it depends on what you consider forgiveness. 

I thought it was all really interesting. 

I think I fall into the it depends on what you consider forgiveness camp. For me forgiveness means I'm letting you off the hook. I'm saying we are square now. I'm okay with you. For others forgiveness just means you hold no ill will toward someone for what they did. You don't need to seek revenge or retribution, you have "let it go."

I do not believe that you need what I think of as forgiveness to heal. But I do think you need the no ill will part to heal. One is about them and what they did. Some things are unforgivable (in my opinion) and you don't need to ever let someone off the hook for those. They did what they did, they hurt you in some way that was profound. How they live with that is on them completely. But you holding on to how much you hate them on the daily is not good for you either. You aren't letting them off the hook for what they did to you, in this case, but you are stopping them continually doing it in your head.

I am also a firm believer that the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. When you reach the point of indifference about someone who has hurt you, you are better off. You are on your path of healing. And even then I think mild indifference can be enough. Like you just don't think about them much. If someone brings them up and mentions how great their lives are going, you can be a little disgusted by that. Or if something really shitty happened to them you can think couldn't have happened to a nicer person. I think you can be healthy in your own mind and still hold on to those ideas.

It's the constantly thinking about them and what they did to you part that I think hurts you. That's the part that gets the pithy sayings like hating someone is like drinking poison and hoping they get sick. Or however that goes. Just learn to let them go. To not let them live in your head. To know that they cannot hurt you or take advantage of you anymore because you won't let them. 

I also saw someone comment that the whole forgive them for YOU not for THEM thing that goes around must have been started by a gaslighting abuser. And I sort of felt that deeply. That a lot of what we get hit with around forgiveness is like the whole be nice thing I rail against. It puts their behavior on you. Like it's on you to be better, to be nicer, to forgive, because if not you are hurting yourself. 

Well bullshit. They are the ones that hurt you. You get to not like them. You get to not be nice to them. You get to smile when someone mentions that they saw them bitching about life. You do need to work to make sure that's the only time they take up space in your head and that they slide right back out again after someone brings them up. But you do not have to be some sort of bigger person and make it okay for them that they hurt you. 

Fuck that. 
Fuck them.

All you have to do is figure out how to not continually hurt. And you do what works for you. And maybe that is forgiving them, if that's what YOU need to do. But you don't need to do it for any other reason. And you don't need to do it at all. 

Just let them go. 
Let them slide out of your life and out of your head. 

Forgiveness not necessary. 

*Valerie Bertinelli is recovering from a bad marriage right now. I guess he was a terrible human and treated her terribly and gaslit her constantly. Just destroyed her own sense of self. She's been working through it all for awhile now. That's why she was posting about forgiveness and that she doesn't think it's necessary. 

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things...

So I did it. I installed Threads. And it was exactly what I thought it would be. Just kind of fun, silly, random posts. 

The first day. 

Then the "Why isn't it more..." and "Why can't I?" posts started. 

Then the journalists and media and political personalities that are used to getting amplified by the algorithms on other social media spaces started to complain that they weren't being amplified on Threads and how it was going to be a detriment to society.

Then the bots came and the comments (Threads? Threadeds?) under the original posts are no longer just people on Threads adding to a conversation but are the reply for thousands and my psychic helped me and bitcoin yeah buddy posts again. 

I thought it would take about 6 months to fall apart but it looks like it'll take a week. 

Then when I was telling Katie about it she was like..."well...since they let everyone from Insta over the whole anti trans Insta movement is there and if their posts are reported the response is that Threads isn't going to be political so they aren't going to delete posts that people are mad at about politics. So yeah, too anti trans for me." 

And I was like, what? Since when is Insta anti trans? But since I curate the hell out of my online experiences it's not for me. I've never even seen it. But now that I know it's a problem I'm like well do I just drop all of the Meta stuff all together and never seen social media again? Or do I just stay really vigilant over what is showing up in my feeds? 

We went from this is fun and charming to well this is toxic and horrible in the space of a few days. 

And this is why we can't have nice things. 

I was also talking to Katie and to Brent about how much hunger there is out there for something nice and charming. And also how much push back there is against it. Like people were literally posting Threads about how Threads was too nice and it needed the sewer posts to drive engagement and make it popular and lasting. 

Because the brain is hyper attuned to negativity. That's just science. (It really is, I know I use that's just science sarcastically all the time, but it legit is science, survival of the fittest means always being hyperaware of negative encounters)

But because of the hyper awareness it's much more likely for you to focus on a negative comment than a positive one. And because a lot of the negative comments and posts and things right now (for certain communities) are actually dangerous it's important to be aware of them. Survival kicks in. 

But that means that something nice and easy doesn't stand a chance. We (the collective we) will ruin it. 

Us and capitalism. I mean, if you are going to have something big like Threads it's got to make money. And right now it's in the hook you into it stage. Remember when Facebook was fun and you could keep up with your friends easily? That's where we are. When Instagram was scroll scroll scroll of your friends and those you followed posting pictures of their pets, their kids and their dinner. And if you liked that sort of thing (which I do) it was perfection. Now both Facebook and Insta are ten ads then possibly a post from a friend but it's one you saw last week, where is the new stuff and why aren't you showing me more than three of MY own people? Threads will get there. 

And apparently sooner than I thought since everything else is moving quickly. 

But oh my gosh is there a craving for nice things. For pleasant people. For lovely conversations. You could feel the collective longing on those first few days of Threads. 

How do we get to the point where that is the normal interaction again and the screaming meemies are the fringe exceptions again? 

Can we?

And this is where it ties back into the whole reason why I decided to limit my Facebooking in the first place. I miss what it was and I'm desperately clinging to what is left. 

But I really want something else. I really want a space where all of the lovely friends I've made all over the world can hang out digitally and chat and tell jokes and share pictures and snippets of their lives. I really want to think of the people that populate my world as decent individuals not conspiracy posting hate mongers. I really want politicians to stop wanting to be celebrities posting shit to get an audience and instead be politicians because they want to help people and make things better. I want journalists not media personalities. I want to be able to enjoy a "celebrities, they're just like us" post as in they have houses and kids, not they are incredibly hateful and prone to following nonsense. 

I want something that doesn't exist. Not in this hyperconnected world where we've all shown each other our full ass for so long that we don't know how to reel it all back and be a little quieter and whole lot kinder. 

So now I've given myself a whole lot more to think about.

Which sort of fucking sucks, honestly. 

Because I'm honestly a little afraid of the conclusion I'm going to come to.

But at least I have some free time to work it out...

One Week In...

So how goes the diet?

I'm not enjoying it, that's for sure. So very much a diet. 

I've been pretty successful limiting my checking Facebook to the time around blog posting. I allow for a little browsing as I post, quick catch ups. I haven't been commenting on anything other than my blog page when I browse, just looking but I think I'll go back to commenting. It feels weird and stalkerish not to. But then again it's not really limiting my use if I am still active but just not posting statuses. So I don't know.

And the really funny part is that I'm thinking about adding Threads. I mean, I never said I wouldn't post on Threads right? 

Here's where my temptation is with that. I was one of the first wave of Twitter users. Brent had heard about it and thought it was right up my alley. Really short posts (this was when they were super limited in length) that I could just tell jokes on all day. One of my first followers was Stephen Colbert and, as Brent can attest to, a few of my jokes made it into his opening monolog. Which I was so excited about I didn't even have time to be pissed I wasn't getting credit. (to be fair it might have been parallel thinking with people in his writer's room but some of them were pretty uniquely my voice so we don't think so)

But there weren't a lot of people on. It was pretty slow. Not a lot happening. 

I stopped using the platform and by the time I decided to check back in it was a seething cesspool of random ickiness around every corner. 

I missed that sweet patch of time where it was really fun. Where there were enough people on to be engaging but not so many that it was toxic. 

Which seems to be the trajectory of most all social media. There is a sweet spot. Enough people to play with, not so many assholes it's not fun anymore. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, they all had their times. Now, from what people are saying, Threads is already there. Enough people signed up right away that it's fun and interactive, but the trolls are still hanging out on Twitter so it's sort of lovely. 

I don't think it will last long so I'm trying to decide if I install it, have fun while it lasts, then mourn it when it's over, or just know that it is already on the path to ruin and ignore it. 

But that is what I'm missing about Facebook. I'm missing the connections I have there. The friends I only see in that space. The things that always keep me from just deleting the app no matter how much the rest of it drives me crazy. I really like the people on my lists. I really am interested in what they are doing. And most of them aren't on Insta or even if they are they aren't that active there. So I don't see the pictures they post, or the jobs they are getting, or the people they are visiting, or the hard day they are having. 

As far as not drinking? No sweat. Brent made me a lovely faux bourbon drink for dinner last week, it's a non-alcoholic botanical blend that I bought a while ago when I discovered I couldn't drink bourbon anymore due to my joint issues. I had tried it when we got it and it was pretty tasty, but it's not been something I've worked into rotation and now I have the perfect excuse. At the soccer match I got a pineapple juice and ginger ale. Which was like a fun summer tropical drink. And it was exactly what I wanted for something different to drink while we all socialized.

So for sure not drinking is a much easier ask than not using Facebook. 

I'm just not sure which one is actually more unhealthy for me...

Do Over...

"Would you go back and change things if you could?"

That was the question he had asked her. One of those things people think about and talk about. What would you do differently? Everyone has regrets they'd like to go back and fix. She had answered honestly. "Yes. But I'd have to go back knowing everything I know now or it wouldn't work. The things I would want to change, I'd have to remember them."

"Okay."

That's what he had said. Okay. Such a simple word. 

When she had woken up the next morning she had realized that he hadn't been making small talk, he had been making a deal. 

She was 14 years old. About to start high school. That's what the room she had woken in, the wall calendar featuring members of Menudo, the face in the mirror all told her. She was 14 years old. That's where she had landed. 

How long did she have? How many changes could she make? She hadn't been sure at first. Would she go to sleep tonight and wake back up in her life with the knowledge that she had changed a few things tucked in her head? Or would she wake up and those memories would be gone? Never happened. Now that she was here she wanted to make sure she really took advantage of the situation. What could she do differently?

She knew. She probably always knew. When people would ask her what she would change if she could she would say all the things everyone else did, she would take better care of herself, she would take her schooling more seriously, she would be kinder to the kids who needed kindness. But she knew if she had a chance to go back she'd help Him live a better life. A more fulfilling one. The one he had always wished he had done. 

Sure, he was happy with her and with their family. He was a great husband, a wonderful father, but he had never had the chance to do the things he had wanted to. To pursue the career he would have if he could go back and change things. And since she was here...

She didn't make big changes. Not to her life. Not to anyone else's. She didn't stand up on the bleachers and tell them what was coming. She just, well she nudged. 

She made suggestions to people about classes she thought they might like. Extra curricular activities that she thought sounded fun for them. Everyone was very impressed with how much she had clearly been paying attention to them. Focusing on them.

Especially Him. To really see him. To know that to most people taking that advanced math class would be torture but it really did sound great. And why not give it a try? 

She also nudged his relationship with his parents. She knew that they were going to die way too soon and that there would be so many unresolved issues. So much guilt for him to process with no way to change things. What if that relationship could be healed now? Could be better now? She didn't think she could change when they died or how, but she could change how they lived. Just a little. 

A nudge here. A nudge there. She didn't date that one boy. She made friends with that other girl. She listened more. She studied harder. She helped Him. Nudge. Nudge. Nudge. 

But what she hadn't been ready for was every nudge that she gave Him toward the things she knew he had wanted were nudges away from her. From them. With the advanced math he had taken, with the improved relationship with this parents, with the strong level of confidence she had help him instill, when the offer came to study abroad their senior year he took it. Instead of dating her. Instead of planning the start of a life with her, he gave her a quick hug goodbye and sheepishly told her that he had always had a crush on her, and he wished he had acted on it when there was still time. 

She graduated and went on to college. Since she had studied more and goofed off less she had a lot of scholarship opportunities and since she still had all of her previous memories she had a solid idea of what part of the country she wanted to live in. Even though she no longer knew exactly what was going to happen, she still had to keep going. There was no waking up one morning back in her old life reveling in the happier and more fulfilled husband she thought she was working toward.

She even married and had children. She did make sure they visited her hometown the summer before her father died and again the year her mother passed. She knew, even in this life, she would regret it if she had said they would just do it next year. She campaigned extra hard in the 2016 elections but wasn't able to shift that outcome. She didn't think she would be able to, big things seemed to have their own course, but she knew she had to try. 

And for 2018 and 2019 she travelled everywhere. Packed the kids up at every opportunity and hit the road. They saw the world. And she stocked up the garage with extra paper towels, toilet paper, cleaning supplies. Her husband and kids teased her about becoming one of those doomsday preppers, but she just smiled. When the lockdown happened and the shortages started they were glad of her preparations. And every once in awhile she would overhear friends of hers saying that she did just seem to know things sometimes. 

She went to their 35th reunion. He was there with his wife. She smiled and they hugged and caught up. He had met her that senior year abroad. They had both been transfer students from the states and were surprised to find out they were planning on going to the same college. He smiled and said he had learned his lesson about not acting when you had the chance so he had asked her out right away and they had been together ever since. One child. And oh she probably hadn't heard the sad news about his parents and the accident about 10 years back...he had been able to get to the hospital and say his final "I love yous" before they were gone. He teared up and apologized. She told him not to be silly. That of course it still hurt. They were his parents and they had loved him and he them. 

She had said goodbye and wished them well. Squeezing his hands in hers and saying, "No regrets. A life with no regrets."

A few years later she recognized the gentleman from her past. Her present? "Would you go back and change things if you could?" 

She thought about what she had lost. Him. Their child. Their happy life. 

But if she went back again she would lose her husband, their children and their life. 

"It's an impossible choice to make now. You tricked me before I think."

"Why would you say that? You got to live two lives where most only get one. It seems that you got the better end of the bargain."

"And if I said I would go back again would I get a third option?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Do you have regrets? Do you have things you would change?"

She thought about it.

And sighed. Then smiled. Then opened her mouth to tell him her decision...

There's Got To Be A Morning After....

I've written about this before (here) but I'm going to touch on it again. 

As you saw from that piece, I am not a 4th of July fan. I dread it most years now. And as I was thinking about it yesterday I was thinking it was probably my first taste of what was coming. I just didn't realize it.

Since I've not been a fan for a long time, and since I'm not shy about saying I'm not a fan I've gotten push back about it. And the first time I got push back, or I guess the level of push back I got I was a little taken aback. 

Living in San Diego and in Colorado where private fireworks weren't allowed due to the fire hazard I saw how you could still have a 4th celebration and even a big beautiful fireworks display without terrorizing the rest of your neighbors. I think the whole country should go to this model. I told a friend that's what I thought and you would have thought I'd said I thought we should all march on the Capitol and try to overthrow the government...

I mean he got HOT. Fireworks were his right! And not only that but to not be able to shoot off fireworks would be unAMERICAN. And people who don't like fireworks should just leave. 

I tried explaining how they bothered the pets. WHO CARES ABOUT PETS? PEOPLE CODDLE THEIR PETS TOO MUCH ANYWAY! I tried to explain that it was really triggering for PTSD for vets and that we had a lot more vets with PTSD with the Vietnam and Gulf Wars vets. And he didn't believe me. Like I made it up that mortar fire from fireworks would sound like mortar fire from well...mortars. How it was a fire hazard. EVERYTHING IS A FIRE HAZARD. Well...no, not everything, but for sure fireworks are. I mean it's right there in the name.

And then he gave what he thought was his winning blow...You just don't like them.

I don't. I'm upfront about it. I don't like them. 

But how passionately he argued about keeping them, to the point where there was nothing I could say that would be accepted as a reasonable argument, should have been a warning shot. A really loud one. That scared the neighborhood dogs half to death.

See, his idea of how the 4th should be celebrated, and surprise surprise it lined up with exactly how he wanted to celebrate it, was the ONLY correct way to do it. And to disagree was to be less than American somehow. As if not liking blowing things up was a moral failing instead of a dislike of loud noises and terrified animals and people. 

It was a sign of what was coming. I just didn't realize it at the time. I didn't know that we were all about to lose the ability to say America is a lot of things, and to know that was true. That people were going to calcify into their own narrow bands of what they thought a good American was. What they thought was appropriate, and they were going to force those decisions on other people.

I still think we should leave fireworks to the professional displays. Have the parades, the picnics, the celebrations, then have big displays in different locations. (Though I'd like to see even those switch to drone shows, they are SO freaking cool now) But that's what I think. What I'd like. I don't think you're unAmerican if you don't agree. 

If you set off giant mortars from 2 in the afternoon until 1 AM I do think you're a giant asshole and I'd really like to know which house you were sleeping in this morning when I had to get up...

And that's really the deal. Last night the cats hid under the bed. The neighbor's dog tried to hide under our front porch chairs when he ran away (thank goodness he ran to a safe space). Nobody in our area got much sleep unless they are able to sleep through window rattling booms. It's fucking rude as shit to do that. To impact everyone else so you can blow shit up. For hours and hours. 

I should have seen it coming.

Being rude to your neighbors in the name of patriotism is as American as storming the Capitol to overturn an election....

I just didn't realize it was the first warning sign.

Well...

Katie is visiting. 

Portland. 

Not really us. We are just the bed and bathroom supplier. She and her roommates are taking a little summer trip and starting with some things in Portland so they are spending the night at the house. They stopped in briefly, dropped off bags, visited with Tig and took off again to go have fun in town. They will come back late and then leave again tomorrow to head out to the coast. 

It's weird. 

Not too long ago a long weekend like this might mean she would come up from Bend for sure, but it was to hang out with us. Now we are just a place to crash. 

We are going through a lot of the things that other people did when their kids were 15 or 16. That space where friends are much more important than parents. She has a social circle now. She has other people that she consults with about travel, about plans, about her life. We are firmly in the secondary role now. 

It's weird for us, but totally normal for life. 

I know I've written before in years past about how lucky we were that she still wanted to hang out with us and do stuff with us. And to be fair she still does, she'll go with us to Michigan in August. But now we aren't the primary people she wants to hang out with. Her girlfriend, her friends, those are her people. We are just family. 

Totally normal now.

But still weird. 

I think we were expecting it when she was younger. To get shunted aside at any point. But she wasn't comfortable with other people like that. I mean, we know now what was going on, but wrote it off as just extremely shy and socially awkward at the time. But now? Now she's comfortable in her own space so she's comfortable with other people. And that means relationships that don't feature her parents. 

So we learn to let go again. 

We've done it in stages. College away. Job away. Other people away. 

Each stage with your kids, each time you learn to let them go, you have to talk yourself into it. Tell yourself how normal it is. How it's part of life. And each time you think you're done. You've let go. Until you find another space where you need to learn to let go some more. 

And I get it, some parents never do learn that lesson. You get some really overly involved in-laws and grandparents and if it works for them, then godspeed. And you get some overly detached as well. Like the kid left and they changed the locks, put the house up for sale and moved to Boca. And I guess that can work for them as well. 

Brent and I left. Detached pretty solidly at 18. Purposefully set off to forge our own paths. I know it was harder on his parents than it was on mine. He is an only child and I am a oh holy shit another one? 

Katie is an only. And she didn't run away from us as a teen. Or out of college. Or for the first few years of working in another city. And to be fair, she's not running now. She's just got her own life, her own friends, her own path. And it's totally normal.

And weird. 

July Heat...

So far Dry July and cutting back on Facebook are going really well.

I mean it's 10:52 in the morning on July 1 but still, take those victories where you can find them!

I did already realize that I Facebook in my head all the time. Like this morning at breakfast there was a woman yelling at her dog barking and I had the Facebook status joke written in my head and was workshopping it to get the best punchline before I remembered I would not be posting that today. Oh. Right. I don't know how long it's going to take to not think about status updates I could post. 

Brent said "You'll have to remember how to be a normal human again." I corrected him. I've never been a normal human. Facebook actually just let me play one online. 

Also had a moment yesterday after I posted that I wasn't going to be posting in July and that I was fine and it was planned where I told Brent it ended up being a mini trip to the mall. 

Do you all get that reference? It's from Soap Box. Sally Fields' character, when she's feeling down, goes to the mall. People recognize her from the soap opera and tell her how much they love her and she gets a little boost. Brent and I use it now for when someone posts or does something that's clearly meant to generate "Oh we love you" moments.

My post yesterday was an accidental one. Which has happened to me before. Because I don't people well all the time. Like I think if I've thought something through and come to a conclusion I don't imagine other people will have different reactions. Which, I mean, of course they will! They are DIFFERENT people than I am. But since I've been thinking about this social media diet for a bit and I've written about it here I felt like it was already out in the universe as a done deal and nobody would even really have anything to say.

Except the same reasons why I have been unable to just delete the app, I like you all and like interacting with you, is the same thing that people who don't read the blog (HOW DARE THEY!) had when I sprung it out of the blue on them that I wasn't going to be around to "hang out with" for the next month, two months, maybe more. 

Oh yeah. People gonna people with their own emotions and reactions. 

Steps I took to prepare for this month:

I had a really nice drink last night with dinner and enjoyed every sip. Last one for awhile I thought it should be more than just a cider. Though I like cider a lot, don't get me wrong, I felt like a fancy send off was better. 

I took the Facebook app off the opening screen on my phone. It's a habit just to open it when I'm bored. If I had kept the button there I'd have already absentmindedly opened it half a dozen times already I'm sure. 

I did the aforementioned post that I was going to be offline more and not to worry. 

And, oh yeah, I told Brent what I was doing. Especially for the dry July it was kind of important he knew and knew I wasn't expecting him to participate. We've done dry January together a couple of times so I wanted him to know I wasn't expecting him to do it. He was like, good cause I'm not. 

I also told him I was still planning on getting a "mixed drink" at the soccer matches. It will be alcohol free, but still something different that feels sort of festive. Part of drinking, a big part of drinking, it the ritual around it. For me at soccer matches, getting a drink and socializing at the Key Bank Club with friends before the game starts is part of going to the game. I could just grab a bottle of water, but I want something different for those spaces. Something to keep it in the ritual. So a mixed drink without the alcohol works. Or might work. We will see tonight. 

And I also let him know that I wasn't deleting Facebook or going completely off of it so he wouldn't try to help me if he saw me on Facebook on my computer. For instance when I'm through writing this I'll open it and post on my blog page and look for pictures from people then I'll shut it back down. That will be the only time I have it open I think. Right around blog posting. Seems like a good plan for a taper. That's once a day at most. 

So I've got a plan. I've taken steps to prepare. I'm ready to go.

And I'm wondering, What do we think dogs are thinking when people yell at them to stop barking? Are they actually barking at them to stop yelling?