Sunday, April 12, 2020

Lock Down


     Think of this as a worldwide social experiment to show once and for all how connected we all are.  We are now seeing first hand just how well – or poorly – society functions when we all must stay six to eight feet apart from each other.

     There are already all sorts of experiments demonstrating that times of heightened stress (or even just uncertainty) are the times that we seek out others to be with the most.  And, well.  See above regarding needing to keep a certain amount of physical distance between ourselves and everybody else for an undefined length of time.

     I would rather refer to this current social practice as “physical” distancing, not “social” distancing.  To paraphrase what I recently heard a therapist who specializes in anxiety disorders say:  You can still have that conversation with your neighbor.  It will do wonders for that anxiety.  Just don’t be right up in each other’s’ faces when you do so.

     Oh, sure.  There is Face Book.  E-Mail. Face time things like Zoom and such.  Even a two word text:  “I’m bored” is a way of reaching out.  But I am a little anti-tech, much to the amusement/ chagrin of my family.  I’m much more intrigued, inspired even, by the old school ways people are using to stay connected.  An old custom in Italy is being revitalized.  People are lowering food baskets from their balconies.  On its way down (and presumably back up again) neighbors are donating what they can or taking what they may need.  When not doing that, they are singing from their balconies to entertain each other.

     In this country, and surely elsewhere, those that used to drive tourists around in horse drawn rides are now hitching up their animals to take supplies to area folks in need.  This also gives the opportunity for both human and horse to get out and get a little exercise.  Bonus.

     But it is not just physical health we need to be mindful of.  How are you looking after your mental health in these strange times? 

     My employer finally managed to get at least some of us set up to work from home.  Not having to worry about the when or where of my next paycheck is amazingly wonderful. But, full disclosure: the days are starting to run together a bit.  I have two crochet projects and a pitch to put together to another book publisher.  

     Somehow, though, I am having a hard time staying motivated to do those things.  Yesterday was the first time I left the apartment grounds in a week.  My hands are raw from all the washing.  I have had to remind myself to take a shower.  It feels like it will always be like this: dry hands. Having things delivered as much as possible.  The boredom of long weekends without much to do besides clean.  My cat is the most wonderful cat ever, but she’s not much of a conversationalist.  

     It feels like it will go on like this forever – but it won’t.  Experts are saying that what we’re doing now is working.  We just got to keep it up for a while yet to make sure it keeps working.  There is an end date, but it is just not clear when it will be.  

     In the meantime, I’ll look out at the springtime trees blooming.  Count the days until it will be time to fill the hummingbird feeder, continue to have one-sided talks with my fur child and rely on Facebook, texts and emails to keep up with family until we can hang out in person.  I’ll drag out yarn and hook – and maybe experiment with lowering a basket of flowers to my neighbor below me. :)

What about you?

Saturday, March 14, 2020

Self-Care


So.  This was meant to be a monthly blog. I already missed one: February.  And February was Turner’s Syndrome Awareness month.  Talk about dropping the ball….

But things got away from me as they sometimes do.  Among other things, last weekend I did a book signing event again with satisfying results for Short Chick with Glasses: life beyond Turners Syndome (shameless plug number 10) 

I also participated with other warriors in lobby day at the state capitol.  It was my first time, and for those of you that have never done it: wear good shoes.  It was a long day of walking throughout the capitol to meet with state senators and representatives or their staff to encourage them to support or oppose certain pieces of legislation being considered this session.  When it was finally time to get back in the van and head home, one of the organizers pointedly asked “what are your plans for self-care tonight?”

And now I ask you: 

In this world that seems to have gone insane: what are you doing to make sure you get the care you need?  Are you making plans like I am to unplug and detach the rest of the night?  Did you reach for water or tea instead of a soda?  Finally going to make that appointment for that physical first thing Monday morning? 

Whatever you do in the way of self-care, make sure you do plenty of it.  You are needed in this insane world.  And you are needed healthy, whole, and ready to fight for whatever cause you care so deeply about that you sometimes lose yourself in it….



Sunday, January 19, 2020

Valuable


This month’s installment is about something that affects us all in the Turner’s community and many women that do not have Turner’s:  infertility.  

If you have read my book, Short Chick with Glasses, thank you for the support.  If not, it is available on Amazon, or catch me at one of the book signing events I’m hoping to set up this spring.  (Shameless plugs. Gotta love ‘em.).  In those memoirs I related that I have been through it all accepting my “no biological children” sentence: the anger at the unfairness, the wondering WHY I had to be born different.  The now not so secrete fears that no man would want me once he found out.   Indeed, I felt just about every emotion a person will feel when forced to accept something that is just…crap.  

Then I realized something.  I was spending enough time lamenting a life that I saw everybody else having – mourning a life that I could not lead - that I was in danger of completely missing the life that I was leading.

And it is a good life, all in all.  I have friends.  I am lucky enough to have good relationships with my family.  A job where I am in some small way helping people.  A cat that needs me to come home and feed her after that job.  I enjoy music, a good laugh; and instinctively stand up for the “little guy.”

Do my parents love my sister more because she provided them with three grandchildren and the best I could come up with is a “grand-kitty?”  Of course not.  That very thought is ridiculous.  

(I’m the favorite, always have been)

I am not able to spread my genes or continue the family line – but nobody gets to tell me that the life I have is of lesser value because of it.  And if I someday adopt, nobody gets to tell me that the relationship won't be as meaningful because I did not birth the child myself.       NOBODY.

And that includes myself. 

So, go ahead and acknowledge those moments of sadness when you see others celebrating a birth.  Acknowledge it, but don’t wallow in it.  There are many paths to happiness. Be open to the infinite paths your life can take.

Be well,
J