400,000 and Climbing
There was a memorial last night (1/19) marking the 400,000 life lost to COVID. Today the CDC website showed it, even though we knows we've been here a few days now.
The thing about the inauguration that most brought tears to my eyes was the large, solemn gentleman who carefully cleaned the podium between people using it unmasked. Closely followed by the way people put a mask back on as soon as they finished.
To see it taken seriously in such a public way felt healing.
I feel like I'm holding my breath for summer militia response, but so far there's been nothing but continued arrests for the January 6 insurrection.
I remain gobsmacked by Amanda Gorman's poem. That's a nice change.
I finally made a budget of all my monthly expenses today AND shared it with CK. I have three months of it saved up. By March we'll sort out how to make it work. Since summer is old credit card debt, it will go down!
Tomorrow we'll get the 2017 tax letter written so Friday I can send it off.
Then we'll tackle the next thing, 2018 taxes.
For, Not Against
A couple of weeks ago at therapy I was sharing my, per usual, mixed response to the good news about my cardiac calcium test.
Things I read about the test noted that when that score hits 400 there's discussion about interventions involving exercise and diet.
My score was zero.
I honestly never considered that would even be a possibility. We're still going to test my cholesterol to see if the supplement I've been taking to address it has had any positive effects. If it has, I'll keep taking it just to be on the safe side.
I'm 51 and over 18 years ago I decided that I was going to tackle my family history of heart disease and my high cholesterol on my own.
I also thought I was going to help my back pain get better. By 2001 I'd already lost a bunch of weight, so I dug in.
I lost over 150 pounds. I kept off around 130 of that. I regained about 40 pounds, but then lost 20 or so pounds of that in the past couple of years as I've passed menopause. The numbers are a little vague because I stopped using a scale a couple of years ago.
There was part of that weight loss that involved really disordered eating behaviors. That deserves multiple posts by itself.
The net result was that it worked. I got all kinds of wonderful feedback and accolades for doing it. No one thought it was weird that I spent hours of every day absolutely obsessed about food because my cholesterol went down and the weight came off. I was my doctor's ONLY success story of personal lifestyle change affecting cholesterol.
Then, poof, I passed menopause and my cholesterol popped up. This test was to see if there was really anything to worry about and, clearly, I can relax a little.
Yet, here I am, unable to celebrate my good news. Again.
I "won" and I don't feel it.
I mentioned it to my therapist. How it almost is as if I don't know what to do if I'm not actively pushing against the examples set by my horrible family. I've used them as a kind of backstop from which I can blast away from.
Now that I've blasted on past any of the health expectations I was haunted by growing up, I don't know what to do!
My therapist wondered if I had to keep them as what I'm always resisting, pushing back against them, pushing myself further away from them.
What if I used that energy to work for myself?
Today in our session it came up at the end in being able to see how I sought out help and resources in the form of neighbors, concerned teachers, a pastor's wife, museum staff, librarians from all over, and more. When I was doing that and other self-soothing & emotionally regulating activities, it wasn't pushing against my family, I was seeking outward to support myself.
I'm going to keep focusing on this shift. I've moved so far past my terrible family that I don't have to fight them, I only have to keep moving myself forward.
Hoping Machine
Woody Guthrie used the phrase "Hoping Machine" in his lyrics and his resolutions. We, our hearts, are those machines.
I'm reminding myself of this because my heart feels heavy and my chest tight. My hoping machine feels slow and quiet. A bunch of chores and a couple of errands done helps me feel more settled, plus CK and the creatures.
I feel like the weekend was suspiciously quiet likewise demonstrations that happened today. The usual white people inappropriately quoted Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Are we in the eye of the hurricane?
I picked up groceries today, getting more tomorrow in addition to therapy. Yet more as the week progresses.
Unless there's civil unrest, then we'll deal with all the things I've already stocked up.
Pests of All Sorts
Our day included discovering ants had found a stash of cough drops and dog training treats. Then that a rat had found food CK had packed in a bag back in March, but didn't eat and forgot about.
There was also a lot of laundry. Thankfully we had leftovers for dinner.
I've been having a day where nothing I get done feels like I've made enough progress. That jerk brain is still right below the surface, ready to criticize.
Then, I got a shivery overwhelm feeling when a trauma memory triggered. As far as those go, it wasn't the worst. It still wasn't what I needed going into inauguration week.
Six More Months
A friend posted a question on a social media site today asking what people were doing today to prepare for another six months of socially isolating for safety.
It hit me kind of hard.
I know that's what we're looking at, but something about seeing it worded the way it was gave me a big wave of woe and despair.
In just under three months it will be a year of distancing.
Maybe by summer enough of our friends will be vaccinated and we can have a party.
Soup & Sympathy
I have our pantry stocked well enough that, with the weekly produce delivery, I don't need to go out much. As COVID grows more highly contagious, this is a real benefit to keeping us healthy.
Today was going to be a rare excursion for some specialty food items; mostly tofu from the best tofu shop in town. It's nearly 10 miles across town and is worth the effort. I also planned a vegan donut indulgence.
More motivation for the trip was to take some frozen soup to a friend whose Dad died on Monday. I've been stocking up our freezer when I make stuff, so it makes it easy to share.
I got to the donut shop and CK called to tell me my wallet was on the coffee table!!
A outage of the messenging app many friends use meant no one knew my plans either! I unexpectedly showed up at our friend's place, but it was a good surprise.
Too Tired to Think
I want to write about what's been kicking around my head since therapy last week, learning how to focus on working for myself as opposed to always seeing myself as working against my family.
It has to do with how I'm feeling nearly 18 years after deciding to work on my heart health. Pushing against the examples in my family of origin and doing what's nearly impossible; losing over 130 pounds and lowering my cholesterol without medication.
Anyway, I have to go back to that sometime. Since the coup attempt last week it's been hard to make my brain sort out my thoughts.
My brain is focused on what should be restocked in the event there is civil unrest next week.
It's exhausting.
The kitten, who is nearly cat sized, helps us both. He and Bertie played wildly together this evening, making us both laugh.
What Fresh Hell
Today began with seeing a post from my teacher sharing that she had COVID.
Then a friend shared that her Dad died Monday from cancer. Alone at the hospital because of COVID.
T* was impeached again.
I finished my clean up of the utility room. The floor could use mopping, multiple passes, but it's been swept well and looks much better. I hauled a big bag of trash from the basement out to the bin and another from the garage. I also got a big stack of cardboard out for recycling too.
I mostly avoided news until the evening, when CK and I could partake, discuss, and integrate together. Cleaning took most of the afternoon and I managed a little work on budget stuff.
Then I found out my closest college friend woke up with a fever, cough, and chills. She's professional caregiver and just received word about her vaccination. She's awaiting results from a COVID test and isolating in her home, away from her family.
Riding the Self-Criticism Bus
I'm tired today and although my class went well, I took care of all animal control tasks, answered a few messages, and made dinner, my critical inner self hasn't felt like I'm doing well enough.
I pointed out to her that I also cleaned up the dishes, loaded the dishwasher, and swept the kitchen.
Nope. Big list of what I didn't do.
It didn't help that I saw a post from my teacher sharing that she has COVID.
CK came back from vacation to a big change at work.
The inauguration is in a week. I'm wondering what I should do to prepare for worse chaos. I've been stocking up on a lot of things, tomorrow I'll scan the inventory and see what needs to be replaced.
Vintage Pyrex and Grief
I feel a little while back and my backpack went flying of my body, badly wrenching my right hand. It's remained stiffer in one finger and tender, which makes my hand a little clumsy.
A last week, while putting away some dishes while food cooked, my hand cramped and I dropped my favorite Pyrex mixing bowl. It shattered impressively and I felt terrible. I've lost count of how many things I've made in it over the years.
It was a vintage one from a set my Mother had from my early childhood. Originally there were four bowls, all in patterns or shades of avocado green.
She decided to get rid of them after breaking the largest when I was at college. I asked for the three remaining, using them for the past 30 years!
I thought about trying to scour thrift stores until I found a replacement. Vintage Pyrex is often to be had, I've aquired some additional cool pieces of baking dishes.
Then I remembered COVID, so no Goodwill Hunting.
Then I considered getting rid of the remaining ones and finding a new-to-me set, ones that weren't tied to my childhood. This has real appeal!
Turns out the "Cinderella" mixing bowl sets after kind of a thing. It's probably $150 for a set of four, shipped! Not terrible, but still a lot to think about.
So I just put all that on the proverbial back burner. There was a couple attempt to be distracted by.
Until tonight, when I wanted to make cornbread and went to get out my mixing bowl and it all came back.
The broken bowl, COVID, the coup, all the socially distant everything. It just all hurt.
I persevered and madder cornbread in the modern, OXO, plastic bowl. It was fine, even if it felt off. The cornbread was good for dessert.
We're in day one of an Atmospheric River. I miss driveway hangouts from summer and autumn.