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Alternate Reality

Stay Strong!

I don’t know about you, but I can’t help but wonder if the Universe (or God) has decided that humanity needs a wake-up call. I mean, shit is pretty unreal right now. It’s almost like The Stand, a book by Stephen King, in real life. For serious.

If you haven’t read The Stand, you can watch it as a made-for TV miniseries. In the book, a virus that’s 99.4% communicable escapes and wipes out 99.4% of the US population. Presumably, the rest of the world was similarly impacted, but the book didn’t go into that. It was set in the US. A lot of people died, but the focus was on the survivors. Some were drawn to good and some were drawn to evil. The good folk gathered in Boulder, Colorado and the bad went to Las Vegas. Of course, there was a showdown.

Anyhoo… this virus does not appear to be as dangerous, but there are still a lot of unknowns. Hunkering down and isolating ourselves from each other really does seem to be the best defense. But people aren’t heeding the warnings and advice. So chances are that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.

Rather than dwell on any of it, I’m trying to make the most of the situation. I am using this time to paint the basement. Painting is a very meditative task for me. There’s not a whole lot of thinking involved. Plus, I get to listen to music and sing as I paint.

I am generating lots of positive energy as I paint and sing. One can only absorb so much positivity, right? All the excess positive energy is flowing freely into the universe. To be used however, whenever, or by whoever. If every single person in the world who is able chose to do something similarly positive, think of all the positive energy that would be floating freely through the atmosphere.

Yes, I know that sounds crazy. BUT… if there’s one thing I have learned over the past few years, it is this… positivity, as in a positive outlook/attitude, goes a very long way.

Positive offsets negative. Always.

Worrying about the virus, what’s going to happen, how/when/if humanity will recover, etc., generates negative energy.

Each and every one of us has a choice. I choose to be positive. I’m going to keep painting and singing and hoping for the best. I’ll be responsible and stay sequestered away until this blows over. Or, until things get so bad that home is no longer a safe place to be. 

Chances are good that it will not come to that, but no one knows what is in store for us. Really.

So, stop worrying. Think about happier times. The world is what each and every one of us make it to be. If you choose to worry, life will be tense. If you choose to let go and let God, or the Universe, or whatever you want to call it, proceed to the next level, I’ll see you there.

Here are a couple of random happy pics that I came across while searching for a post-appropriate image. Both really warmed my heart.

My Honey and my Special K.

 

Me in my Happy Place (on my motorcycle)

Think happy thoughts, people. We will get through this.

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Life Lessons

I started this post in early February. That doesn’t sound all that long ago, but, in some ways, it feels like a lifetime. It was a Sunday. I remember that only because it’s the same day I heard this quote:

The greatest moments of your life are the most difficult ones. That’s the only time you learn.

  • — Mandy Patinkin (CBS Sunday Morning, 2 Feb2020)

Entering and formatting the quote is as far as I got with that draft. Until today.

When I started this post, I was still actively working and quite stressed-out. I feel much better these days, in many ways, but know I still have work to do.

Even I am amazed that I am not ready to go back to doing my job. It’s really a very stressful role. Hopefully, I can figure out how to return to that position, IF the position is even still there.

Whatever. I am still working on me. Continuing the slow process of real, serious introspection and applying the lessons I have learned and continue to learn every single day.

It’s been interesting, really. I have been learning a lot and am confident I’ll be a better person when all is said and done. I just wish I had some idea when “done” will be.

Because I am not currently on the job, it is difficult to know if I am recovering and, if I am, how to quantify how much I am improving. That measurement isn’t as important to me personally as it is to my employer. So far, there is no date for my projected return to work. The only thing I do know is that once I am cleared to return to work, I need to give my employer two weeks notice before I can actually resume my duties. I use the term “resume” loosely as there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to return to the same role. I’d only been with my current  employer for nine months, so am not protected under the Family and Medical Leave Act of 1993 (FMLA), a US labor law that requires some employers to offer employees job-protected, unpaid leave for qualified medical and/or family reasons.

Basically that means I had to put my job on the line to take time off, which is needed to take care of myself. My job might still be available. I just don’t know if I will be able to do the same job. Or if I will want to. With the current pandemic situation impacting the economy, I don’t know if there will be any job openings when I am ready and able to return to work. But, you know what? I am not worried. I need to get better. This treatment is long overdue.

I continue to see a counselor — his name is Bob — on a regular basis. Next week, I have an appointment with a psychiatrist, who I’ll see in addition to Bob. I have never seen one of them before, so am quite interested to see what they have to say, if they will adjust my medications, etc. (Bob can’t prescribe or assume responsibility for medication management.)

I’ve had issues with depression, off and on, for a little over 30 years. It may even have been longer. I just know that late 1989/early 1990 was the first time I seriously contemplated killing myself. In hindsight, I think that first episode may have been postpartum depression. Or plain, old depression. I mean, my life had just undergone a drastic shift. I was still very young (only 23!), unmarried, knocked up, living with someone that was NOT meant for me. Younger people have done it, I know, and with more than one kid. But I had never so much as babysat or changed a diaper. Not even on a baby doll. Not that I ever had many dolls. LOL. The few I did have only had pull-up pants or undies or something. Nothing as sophisticated as a realistic diaper.

I was 23. So it’s actually a little shy of 30 years. But still. That’s more that HALF of my life. And the first 23 years were a little tumultuous. Not horrible, overall, but there were definitely some major incidents that I may or may not be completely comfortable sharing with the world. That could be what got this all started. (Or, it could be everything else that has gone on in the past five+ years!)

I’ve been taking antidepressants for about one-half or two-thirds of the last 29 years, but never in conjunction with counseling. I did try counseling in the past. I saw one or two different doctors, neither of which was good enough to see through my facade. They took my “I am fine” proclamations at face value and never probed further. My skeletons were hidden VERY well.

Maybe it’s good that the job stress was so intense this year.

I am hopeful. Optimistic, even. This time around, I’m older, more mature, and really ready to exorcise all this shit from my brain and fix whatever is broken. Or at least learn how better to cope with the emotions, anxiety, and stuff that, combined, has me bobbing in this fog of mental incapacitation.

It’s all very weird. Otherwise, I am good. Confident that I am on the right track to figure this all out. Mike and I remain healthy and are keeping our distance from others.

Nothing like social distancing and sheltering in place to enhance the meditative possibilities. I am focused on recovering, and really hoping you-know-what leaves all of my family, friends, loved ones, etc. alone.

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Spring in Warrenton, Virginia

It’s been a really mild Winter in north, central Virginia, which means an early Spring, too. I’d be more delighted if the whole corona virus thing weren’t an issue. One can’t help but worry about that some. I mean, really. The world feels very strange at the moment. But, we must all heed the advice of health officials and flatten that curve to, hopefully, stop the virus before it spreads and kills more people.

I’ve been sticking closer to home this week. It’s not a problem because Spring has definitely arrived in Warrenton. It’s one of the prettiest times of the year to be in this location.

Belle in front of some daffodils.

 

Trees flowering in front of post office.

 

Flowering trees.

 

My sunset spot.

A lot of my sunset photos are captured near this spot. Most people don’t realize the county jail is in the foreground of many of my sunset captures. It’s ironic that some of the best pics I have captured in town feature the county jail. LOL.

Stay safe, y’all!

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Privacy Matters: Geofence Warrants

I’m not the alarmist type. Usually. But an article I stumbled across today has definitely raised a red flag for me.

I admit I’m a bit naive when it comes to matters of privacy. I know I am a straight, stand-up type. By that I mean I am not a criminal, I’m honest almost to a fault, and I would never intentionally inflict bodily harm on anyone unless provoked, as in self-defense. I don’t own a gun and, if I did, I wouldn’t know how to use one. I wouldn’t steal from anyone either.

The only illegal thing I do, that I’m aware of, is sometimes drive too fast. Even then, I don’t speed through neighborhoods. I drive slowly through parking lots. I’m always aware of what’s going on around me, which is a by-product of riding a motorcycle. 

Why should someone like me care if my cellphone tracks my movements? I don’t do anything wrong. So it shouldn’t matter, right?

Wrong. Check out this article about Zachary McCoy. He seems like a normal, stand-up guy, too.

Data from his bicycle ride-tracking app put him in the hotseat. At one point, he became lead suspect in the burglary of a 96-year-old woman. As the article states…

“‘It was a nightmare scenario,’ McCoy recalled. ‘I was using an app to see how many miles I rode my bike and now it was putting me at the scene of the crime. And I was the lead suspect.’”

Zachary looks harmless enough, right? What if he looked more-menacing? Or his skin were a darker color? He would probably have been even more worried. He SHOULD have been even more worried, sadly. Judging a book by its cover, wrongly, is a common occurrence these days.

How did authorities get access to his location data? They used a geofence warrant. What exactly is a geofence warrant? It’s kinda scary stuff.

If you care to know more, follow the links I provided. I can’t go into more detail now. I need to go change all my location settings before I forget.

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Big Feet

Notice I did not say Bigfeet as in Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Yeti, or, my all-time favorite, Woodbooger? That’s because this post really is about feet. As in, my feet.

Why feet? Because I got a pedicure the other day. That may not be a big deal for some people, but for me it is huge. No pun intended.

Me, getting a pedicure.

I am tall. I have big feet. They are not particularly attractive, either. When I was younger, my feet got ridiculed regularly. I was told they were ugly. And big. Not to mention ugly because they were big. That stuck with me. So I tend to hide my feet under socks, in closed-toes shoes, under sand or water (when at the beach), etc.

Yes, I know that sounds stupid and irrational. Really, it’s evidence that bullying, i.e., frequent ridicule, really does leave scars. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.

I used to have a large bunion on my left foot, too. It was removed when I was in my early 30s, or around there. Since then, I have hated to have anyone touch my feet. I don’t know why.

Many folks I know talk about loving to get foot rubs, wanting people to touch and/or massage their feet, LOVING pedicures, etc. Even men. It always sounded awful to me. Seriously awful. And the last time I got a pedicure, years ago, which I think was the second one I’d ever had, I was seriously weirded out by the tech massaging my legs. I was all like, “WTF?! I was supposed to get a pedicure on my feet, not a full body massage!” I suffered silently through the whole thing, but never went back.

I hate the thought of getting a massage, too. Again, I know that sounds stupid and irrational to some. To me, it just sounds invasive, and I cannot imagine relaxing while some stranger is touching all over me.

Anyway… while I was visiting Amy, I decided to do something really drastic, as in WAY outside of my comfort zone. I figured what the Hell, maybe it would shock me back into normalcy.

So I went all by myself and got a pedicure. And a manicure, so all my digits would match.

I did not give the tech any instructions. My inner voice was saying, “Tell that bitch not to rub your feet. Or your legs. A pedicure means feet!” But I kept my mouth shut, used my yogic breathing technique, and let her do her thing.

It was awesome.

If only I could have bridged the language gap well enough to explain to the pedi tech why, exactly, I insisted on her giving me a high five when she finished.

I am not the only one with big feet. When I found these shoes in Amy’s closet, I assumed they belonged to her husband. As it turns out, they belong to Gaige, my sixteen year old grandson. How is it possible that he’s that big already?

Most women wear cute, open-toed shoes to the nail salon. I wore the only open-toed shoes I could find. So I didn’t mess up the polish. As it turns out, I chose gel polish. It dries almost instantly. I could have worn my own shoes, complete with socks.

I am still learning. Next time, I will know!

As an aside… I chose a really bright, loud color to remind myself of my accomplishment. Not because I think it looks great.

It did NOT shock me back to normalcy, but it still feels pretty good. I successfully silenced that mean inner critic.

Baby steps are still steps in the right direction, right? RIGHT!

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In Search of Normal

So…

I am completely at a loss on how to explain events of the past several weeks. I’m not even sure “events” is appropriate.

I’ll just post a cool photo while I try to gather some thoughts.

Believe is the new Earth’s Faith

Okay, maybe one more photo that I like.

I shot both of those pictures last Monday, February 24. That day was the seventh consecutive weekday that I did not go to work. By “go,” I mean report in, log on, clock in, whatever word it is to describe what remote employees do to start their day.

I hadn’t been feeling right for a couple of weeks. Of course, right is relative. I knew I’d been feeling progressively worse and worse over the past several months. I just didn’t realize how bad things had gotten.

It’s been a difficult few years. I’ll spare you the details, which might just sound like whining. Let’s just say some issues or “life stressors” have been building/catching up with me.

Depression and ADD + life stressors
+ chronic job stress = DISASTER

A blank gray slate.

My brain had finally shut down. It’s the weirdest thing. I literally stopped being able to think. One morning, Tuesday, February 4, I woke up knowing I was in trouble. Not physical trouble, mind you. Just trouble.

Really, from the minute I opened my eyes, I knew I could not go to work that day. I ended up staying “out” through Thursday. By Friday, I felt able to work again. It was a quiet, decent day.

By noon on Monday, February 10, my brain had frozen. Again.

Not like a stroke or anything. My thought processes just weren’t connecting. No pistons were firing, or spark plugs, or valves. Or maybe all of the above.

Things were simply just not making sense. Like, really. I was a big, fat deer in the proverbial headlights. Nothing was sinking in.

I didn’t know what to do with the millions of words being thrown at me. Emails coming in constantly. Instant messages via Teams (like Skype). Phone calls. Text messages. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Conflicting instructions and probing questions. More and more work to get done in less and less time. More pressure from above to monitor those below me more closely, to help my employees, make sure they were dotting and crossing in all the right places. Knee-jerk reactions. Politicking among executives (scuttlebutt almost always trickles down).

Insanity by Bagrad Badalian

I’ll spare you the sordid details around trying to determine where to go/who to see for help. I finally went to my primary care doctor on Friday, February 14. She told me to stay out for a few days. I negotiated her down to two. My boss insisted I take all three.

Through some small miracle, I got an appointment with a mental health professional on the third day, February 18. He, Bob, ordered another seven day break. A week later, I saw him again. He says he thinks he can help, and is pretty sure I’ll be able to get better/return to normal, but he has no idea how long it will take.

The last full day I worked was Thursday, February 13. Tomorrow will be the 13th consecutive weekday I have not worked.

That’s why I had time to visit a waterfall on a Monday.

Dark Hollow Falls

I’m currently away on a pre-planned trip (non-refundable plane ticket had already been purchased). Wednesday was a travel day. Thursday I tried doing some writing, to no avail. Amy took one day off (Friday). We went axe throwing. It sounds cheesy, but was actually fun. Then we went to a brewery for lunch, and some brews. In the evening, we went and got manicures. The weekend was fun-filled, too.

I look relatively normal. Physically, I don’t feel any different. Mentally is a whole ‘nother story. As soon as I even think about working again, I can feel my brain scrambling. I looked at LinkedIn for something tonight, but had to close the app after only about two minutes. Earlier today, while reading some industry news, I started feeling sick to my stomach.

Not working sure feels weird. It has all been so strange, really. I can do basic, everyday stuff, but nothing that requires complex thought. The least little bit of negativity, angst, or stress I experience, my brain starts to quiver.

I don’t mean my brain is literally shaking, I mean it’s like the structure of my brain immediately turns to Jello. Signals are not connecting. Wires are definitely crossed. Or compromised.

I’m going home Wednesday night. I will meet with Bob again on Friday. I’m sure more visits with Bob will follow.

Now, if only we can get the ole brain working properly again.

I am not complaining. Honest. I do realize things could be MUCH worse. But, honestly, not being able to THINK is pretty fucking awful.

I would really, REALLY like to feel normal again. If that’s even possible in this crazy, new mixed up world in which we live.

I will keep on keeping on, taking things as they come, plodding on through whatever you call this state or stage in my life. Taking one day at a time and learning very important lessons as I go.

A positive frame of mind is important. So is love, and laughter. It’s been wonderful visiting with Amy and the grand kids. Very good medicine indeed.

Me and Brianna. She’s a freshman starter on her university lacrosse team and an all-around delightful young lady.

There’s more excitement planned for tomorrow. Stay tuned…