what’re you up to now that the world has shut down?
in truth, so far, about once a week I have a complete sobbing meltdown. the fear, the anxiety, the worry for the kids, for LM, for my mom and for everysingleperson.
LM is here, as he has severely compromised lungs and my place is best for not being full of germshare.
my kids dad doesn’t believe in the benefits of social isolation, so gave them to friends for a sleepover a little over a week ago. he does not have much respect for my being an informed adult and seems to think i am a hysteric who gets her news from gossip.
so i am doing all that i can when i can and cursing his soul. i hope he feels it. and yes, i am a little kidding, and some of me is not kidding at all.
and then there is hope. because, as hard as it is for me to believe, beneath all the layers of fear, anxiety, cynicism, despair, niggling worries, fear of schooling my children and deep betrayal lies a golden molten core of beauty and brilliant LIGHT that, evidently, cannot be dimmed.
and so she SHINES.
sometimes. when the night is dark and dreary, she flashes. and i’m seeking her out, and holding hands, and
SEEKING HER OUT.
and i think it is saving me, and so there is that.
and i’m hoping to re-enter this world here more often. but lets not hold our breaths.
this is not to be confused with fiddleheads. one is edible, at a particular time of year, and one is not.
fiddlesticks is what you say when you are trying not to swear, and something is frustrating in a fairly benign but relentless sort of way.
(the way i’m feeling about my ears and their continuing saga is not benign, and is aggressive and full of paralyzing fear and despair. fyi)
fiddlesticks pertains to the kid who stayed home sick today, mostly as a result of exhaustion from Daylight Savings Time and an overly exciting weekend with Dad, in which sleep was just a third or fourth thought. or 12th, i don’t know.
-because the world is in something of a tizzy about the new flu, it makes me re-tell stories about my grandmother, the lovely of my life, who won Mother of the Year, for real, sometime in the 60s, and wrote letters to the newspaper about how kids who were sick should not be attending school, for the health of the community. so i’m there, quoting my long dead grandmother in hopes of winning the prize of a healthier community. think it will work?
i’m tired. i’ve been reading, but its been magazines, a few wordless picture books and oooh, a beautiful comic. yes, really. LM is a junkie of the comic book sort so i found myself at a huge sale this weekend. Because i cannot stand in the midst of so much reading material and close my eyes, i asked which were the most visually stunning, because i thought that was a good place to start.
and so. i give you Neil Gaiman’s comic book. The, yes, Neil Gaiman. you aren’t really surprised if you’ve read much of him. I know. What I did was buy two copies of the same story, with different beautiful covers. Because I am going to cut one of them up and use it, as my own art.
because i am a deviant.
Then, i read Return by Aaron Becker. (not from the comic book store, but of a family…since it is a wordless picture book) I’ve tried to capture the feeling of his illustrations in colors of my own, in wildly less beautiful paintings. . . SO GORGEOUS.
sigh. the other beauty of a comic book is Silver Surfer Black Treasury Edition, which is so vibrant it almost knocks you over.
I’m not gonna kid you. My brain is not clicking along at its normal rate, but these are some gorgeous works of art, masquerading as fluff. don’t be a fool and fall for it.
so there. and yes, i will figure out how to share illustrations, or my photos of these things, because man, oh man, my eyes are thirsty.
so, i’m making a conscious effort to make my social media ‘feed me’. right.
so there are plants. and lots of ’em.
and lately, a friend pointed to a woman who wrote a book about her life (on being human) and her hearing loss. and i’m literally like. what?. a person has hearing loss and is a mom and functions socially? and writes about it? everything is punctuated by my own incredulity.
(i’ve ordered it, but haven’t read it, or anything about it.)
as if i can’t google things myself. as if i don’t know that there are hearing loss forums and such. as if i haven’t learned and forgotten a million times.
so.plants. and hearing loss. next up? women who are unsatisfied with their lack of productivity, but somehow manage to keep on going in humor and life and stuff. and then, writers who aren’t sure they want to sell anything or fit into a format that is sellable. those people. i want to find my people. in real life, too.
So. a learning curve, for me. more to learn. Most of the Democrats voting in the country this week are not really looking for a change, beyond getting P.Trump out. Back to reality. I mean, I’m disappointed that the smartest person wasn’t even glanced at. I feel like its a thing, a misogynistic thing, but i’m willing to let it roll off my back. back to men again. because they have done such a bangup job.
okay. so i learn more.
i’m game. here i am, in the game.
No change in my hearing overnight. waiting until tomorrow when my antibiotic (which may or may not be working) runs out so i can go to the urgent care clinic and ask for more medicine. or different medicine. or something.
Really, most people think that things are fine and understandable as they are. (‘most’ meaning older, already ‘established’, mostly white, straight folk…) Anything that is too cray-cray, like wiping out predatory but consensual student loans, or healthcare that everyone can access, paid for by taxes… these are things that are just too scary. upheaval, you know, might add risk to the day-to-day. might.
so, fine. i’m deaf and there is not going to be any change. well, fine.
and my way around that? my feeding of the plants that will burrow under the wall of that immobility?
i’m going to figure out how to get insurance to pay for me to see an actual doctor, and i’m going to write more here, and i’m going to make enough money to pay to take my kids on a vacation, even if it is just one night. and i’m going to talk their ears off about money and how it works and how they sure as hell better get a grip on understanding it, because i want them to be able to USE IT, and not be USED BY IT.
because longterm? that wall is fucking coming down.
I can’t tell you what it is like to have ‘hints’ of devastation. i mean, devastation is shattering, life-ending, altering, forever changed, yes? and, ‘hint’ doesn’t seem to match or belong in that deeper stone-sinking way. the simple sink of stone.
i’ve been having a head cold. Oh my god, you think, this fool is talking about a cold? In this world? In this time? Coronavirus, Flu, Corporations as People, Trump? These things that are killing us, in so many ways? And she is on about a cold?
yes. My ears, (history here.) … or the one ear that is an option, have been inconsistent. There is some kind of infection in my one working ear. I’m on my second string of azithromycin and prednisone and it doesn’t seem to be effective. I can’t get in to my new primary doctor until july. Health insurance won’t cover the ENT without a referral. I’m devastated by the financial shitshow of health insurance.
I’m operating at lip-reading level and lips to ears level with the kids. I don’t completely want to leave the house for anything because I am feeling very vulnerable to accident and mistake. (not physical accidents as when i drive deaf i am paying attention in a way you hearing people cannot fathom. think, superhero strength attention. i almost always need a nap afterward.)
the whole world is draped in the heavy blanket of your wintery dreams. It is heavy, and I feel clouded as I walk. The light begins to hurt. I feel sad when I can’t figure out what my kids are talking about. you know, they keep talking anyway, and its just a whole lot of life that is missed. and there isn’t anything i can do about it. the conversation is just lost. The brush with depression is instantaneous and many of my lesser demons of self-worth start waving their fucking arms like Kermit.
I’m wearing my hearing aide, but its basically useless. It gives me the higher tones, so i can hear the crying of the overtired seven-year-old in my midst, or the singing of my 12. And believe me, both are precious to me right now, though i do assign proper value. heh.
i actually have two meeting-new-people things this week and i’m freaking jibbering with nerves because its literally the worst possible scenario. not only am i not at my best, i am actually at incompetent.
and i’m going to do it anyways. because i am 45, and i am too reclusive, and even my worst self needs to get out and see human beings. i’m not entirely sure that those human beings will feel the same certainty, but we will all be okay.
I’m going to vote for Elizabeth Warren today. I understand that Bernie is ahead, but in all truth, I think Warren could actually DO a million and one things to make the world a better, more equitable place for the majority of American citizens.
So, there are pings for desperation. and pings for hope. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed, again and again, that spring will come, that strength will return to our democracy and that the crisis will pass.
i will hear again, and the light will Light ME. Tis the season, right?