Donald Trump Doesn't Define Us

It's impossible to exist in America at this point in time without having strong feelings, one way or another, about Donald Trump. To some, like my brother, Donald Trump is the embodiment of winning. He's a below average white male who doesn't deserve, doesn't understand and doesn't care about the office he's in and he's the poster child for every inadequate white male out there who hated the past president for being the exact opposite (black, smart, deserving).

To many of us, we can only see the destruction this less-than-average man accomplishes and we only see how we as a country, as a people, are losing. Losing the gravity of the office of President, losing respect, losing our planet, losing our standing in the world.

On a personal level, I feel like Donald Trump is turning many of us into shell-shocked partners of a 

an emotionally abusive man. He's always attacking, always ready to perceive slight and erupt in vitriol and rage, leaving us shaken and afraid, hoping that the fists won't come out.

He's exhausting. If you look away for a minute then you'll miss the latest crazy, the last outrage, the newest damage to our democracy. But if you watch, if you haunt the news and social media, the constant assaults to our normality, to our lives just keep picking at your thoughts and soul. 

There is no winning with this man. Disengage and miss how he's destroying what matters (then come back and despair). Stay aware and despair because it doesn't stop. Ever. Every single motherfucking day there's something.

We're an emotionally ragged country. We can't sustain this.

And we need to learn not to. Not to look away because these are our lives, our future. But more than ever this is the time to return to art, to create, to craft, to fight the unrelenting ugliness of this man and his followers and create art. Art. We need art to keep us going.

Think for a minute about this. How many of us found that this world has sucked the joy out of us? Spend 10 minutes on Twitter and then think about crafting something and all you want to do is take a nap. 

It's so hard to create when emotionally you feel unbalanced. I quit writing after Trump became president and slowly a lot of my creativity went hot then cold then gone. (Admittedly, after Mollie went to Japan I've found it hard to create at all.)

We have to. We have to find that spot within us and nurture it back into being. Creativity is hope. It just is. It's reaching out into the void and finding celebration. Whether writing, art, baking, painting, working with Photoshop, knitting a scarf: creating always equals hope. 

And hope is what defines us as a species. Not hate. Not anger. Not Donald Trump.

I know it sounds simple but it isn't. This is a battle for peace of mind for those staying engaged. You can't live like this small man and his small sect of haters. Live larger. Embrace the world we love and refuse to lose. Hope is the thing created with brushstrokes, keyboards, flour spilled on the table. Raise yourself from the Netflix stupor and make your own short film, dance to BTS, dip your happiness in paint and reclaim yourself with a brush stroke.

Donald Trump does not define us because hope does. Reconnect with yourself, with your joy, with your soul. Create something. And remember that in doing so you're part of humanity and humanity prevails because humanity aspires.

Dream. Reach. Hope.

The Mother of All Mothers

Depression is a mother. Not a sweet, nurturing mother but the Faye Dunaway ‘Mommy Dearest’ version with the wire hangers.

I’m depressed.

I don’t know what set me off today. I started the day okay but somehow something got away from me. I plummeted and found myself sitting at my desk wanting to leave my job, wanting to cry, wanting anything but what I had that minute.

That’s depression. Such a downer. 

It didn’t kick my ass. Not really. I talked to my manager and told her what I was imagining and she talked me off the ledge. But now I’m sitting here, still feeling the monster walking around my edges and I’m wondering why today, why like this and how do I keep it from happening?

I don’t have answers. I mean, I have some ideas. I asked my daughter to call me tonight but she’s busy and not sure she can. I was told that I don’t get to work in our Kona clinic with my favorite doctor because I said I’d rather work front desk instead of a revolving schedule. Because I didn’t get the job I applied for and I don’t know why.

So the depression monster bit me. Not a nice, little nibble but a huge chomp of my ass.

It’s a fight. I don’t think I’ve realized in the past how much this monster lurks in my life. Now I can see him, he’s not shadowed. But I don’t know how to fight him. How to stop the feeling as it shadows my vision.

I’m not going to up my happy pill prescription. I do well on a low dose and don’t want to kick the fake up. I’ll go to my therapist. I’ll recognize what is happening as it happens and pay attention to it. I’ll be honest with the people in my life when I’m battling. And especially those minutes when I’m losing.

But it’s exhausting. And I’m so so tired.

Redefining Your Past for Your Better Being

I started seeing a therapist recently for a few reasons. As mentioned the Empty Nest Syndrome is hitting me hard and the ennui of being in my 60s is kicking my metaphysical ass. If indeed I have a metaphysical ass and if I do I hope it's not quite as dumpy as my physical one.

Anyway... in our introductory meeting she asked me about myself and I introduced me, in a manner of speaking. And she said something so unexpected and mind blowing, she said to me, "You're so interesting."

Who? Me?

Her point in saying that is that she heard my story of myself and saw the ways I didn't make choices to fit the norm. Daughter adopted from China. Best friend a literal stranger in Alabama (yet the person whose heart I know and trust over all others). Fighting a lifetime to be heard. Taking chances without safety nets in place.

Well put it that way and I guess I am kind of interesting, yes?

I've been thinking about this a lot. Thinking how I've always judged myself as inherently broken because I don't have any long term committed romantic entanglements (after all, am I woman without a man?) I've never been very successful with my writing, despite being published by others. How I've framed myself in ways that take my accomplishments and make them look like failures.

I don't know if this is an inherently female trait or not, and that's something I might want to research. But as women we're always trying to be quiet in open spaces, to diminish ourselves, to not look ambitious or braggy and even worse, proud.

So I applied for a new job where I work that would be a serious step up for me, as well as challenging and exciting. (Every time I say anything about the job my immediate desire is to state that I don't expect to get it because I'm not qualified for it or something else self-deprecating. I'm not doing that because the truth is that I would be amazing at this job and bring some great ideas and changes to it that the hospital can use. So fuck off mind, I want and deserve this job!)

Anyway... I had my first interview for the position and was asked a standard question about "name one time you went above and beyond for a patient." And I thought for a few seconds and realized that I couldn't name one time because there are hundreds of times. So I told the interviewer instead that I try to go above and beyond for every patient because that's the standard of care I give. And then I instead told her the story of a time that a complete stranger I spoke to in a doctor's office changed my life by setting me on the path to adopt my daughter.

And in that moment I completely embraced the knowledge that my life is amazing. My life is full of stories of wonderful things. The first time I got a piece of writing accepted for publication when I was about 20 years old. The adoption journey. Moving to Hawaii. Meeting Carolyn online and starting the greatest friendship I will ever experience in this world (I seriously consider Carolyn and Mollie the two greatest loves of my life).

This post has meandered a bit but here is what I wanted to say: we are here and our roads might have been hard, we might have felt silenced or alone. But we're here and we have stories to tell. We have stories we've lived. And we don't have to climb mountains or swim in money to be interesting and important. Our stories and experiences when we don't diminish them are fascinating. We are fascinating.

So my therapist was correct in hearing me and noting that I've never taken the standard path and I'm interesting as hell. As are we all. And we need to remember to amplify our own voices and experiences no matter how much we think we're not deserving because we are. We deserve to be seen. We deserve to be heard. And we deserve to silence our own negative voices and see our past not as a road of failure but as growth and choices that brought us to where we are and the places where we deserve to be.

My past has had hardships yes, but what wonderful stories I can tell and have yet to live.

Just a little addition ...

                   Brawny Blondes!!  

Welcome Back

Although we've never really been gone.

Mollie moved to Japan to attend college and I'm working full time in a surgeon's office. Carolyn is still here too, she's reading, painting and singing badly at me on the phone.

And we still have this blog.

We're not really overly romance readers/writers anymore. Although we both still love the genre it takes a lot more to engage us.I'm currently reading more non-fiction and Carolyn is well, she reads everything but if it doesn't engage her quickly she's on to the next.

So we've been talking about the blog and have agreed that even when we end up silent for years, it's still a form of home for us. And personally, I've been feeling a desire to write again. Nothing major. Nothing fictional. Maybe just a wish to shout into the void and feel heard.

And for the sake of disclosure I do want to mention that I've started therapy because I'm having serious displacement with empty nest syndrome. Mollie is thriving in Japan and I've never been prouder but I'm lonely and sad and unsure of my place in this world.

So that's where I'm at. Politics will be discussed. Romance novels, as well as vaginas, menopause, anger and sorrow will be discussed.

When Carolyn and I first met, her husband John was driving a big truck, she was working as a medical biller, Mollie was 4 years old, I liked sex and we were devoted fans of Carlos Marin. Carolyn lost John to lung cancer, she retired, she prefers to look at brawny blonds. Mollie is in college, sex is a distant memory, and well, I like K-Pop and K-Pop boys.

Everything changes.

But we always have this blog to come home to.

Women Do The Heavy Lifting

Kamala Harris 2020!!

Although honestly, right now I'm excited about 3 out of 4 of the Democratic women running. (Not surprisingly I despise Tulsi and didn't vote for her in our local election either). But wow: Kamala.

What excites me is that we need a woman to come in and clean up the mess the RepubiTrumps did. Get in and clean up the government, throw the protections back on our environment. You know, save the motherfucking planet. The shit that men can't be bothered to do.

Speaking of men not being worth the meat sack they reside in: my brother replaced my spark plugs so I love him to death. However...

Lola is dying.

Lola is my SIL's mother. 92, severe dementia and dying. She's at home, hospice comes in every day and she's stopping eating and drinking. She is dying.

But she's not dead yet. She's alive and in our house and needs 24 hour care. So who do you think provides that care? If you guessed the women, you'd be right. Even my daughter has helped clean Lola's ass and held her hand. It's what we do. We're women.

And my useless but I love him brother? He avoids. He lets the women do the work. He keeps his eyes forward so he doesn't have to see the shit on our hands and tears in our eyes.

Lola is dying.

Did you know that Medicare is paying for the hospice nurse and aides that come in daily to help the SIL clean her mother up and access the catheter and the meds and the dying woman's pain levels. The same Medicare that the Republinuts want to cut. Kamala wouldn't. Kamala and the other women know that our mothers shouldn't have to lay in their own filth and someone has to turn them onto their sides and wipe the mess and apply the salve and brush the hair from her face and tell her she's loved.

Lola is dying and so are giraffes and lions and decency and our rights. And Kamala is a woman of color and I think it's so unfair that I want her to be my president so she can clean the shit this country has become but it's what women do and we understand that we have to do it.

We have to do it.

Because Lola is dying. And so is America.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! (let's hope for impeachment)

2019. Who knew we'd live so long?

Started the New Year off not really doing anything I planned. I did get my pictures hung (Carolyn, you look great on my walls!), getting another skull in the Etsy store and reading. I planned to sew but didn't. I planned to wash my walls but didn't. I planned to nap and did.

Here's hoping that 2019 is the year of Pelosi. Two years of Trump has been terrible for the sanity of normal people and the decline of decency has been hard to watch. Here's to Team Pelosi!

Okay: resolutions. I no longer do 'em. In the last few years it's been themes of what I need to learn and I relaized that this year it's so scattered... Mollie will go to college but that doesn't bother me that much. More than anything I'm just concerned with how the finances will work. I'll know soon enough.

So my theme this year is: none. There are things I hope to acheive and plans made but somehow this year is too wide open to settle.

I want to become friends with my finances. I want to overcome my bad financial decisions and have a healthy relationship with my money.

I want to keep creating. Quilting (my joy). Writing. Painting.

I want to hone my anger and sarcasm into a weapon that could castrate a man with a simple word.

I want to have a library of woman strong movies and books to give me power.

No more bullshit in my life. I'm trying to see how that works. I'll keep you updated.