Small Miracles

 Hi there!

This is a crazy time for so many people for so many reasons.  I have found myself, more and more, wanting to change things, and feeling so overwhelmed and tired that I also don't want to do ANYTHING.  I feel a call to action and a paralyzing sadness that are in such opposition that creates immobility.  

But that isn't what I'm here to talk about.  

In the midst of this feeling of melancholy, I have also seen wonderful moments of beauty- and I can tell you, they help.  I have started to seek them out- I follow Instagram accounts that leave me happy, not feeling like less or feeling sad.  I read stories that inspire me and make me happy.  I've noticed a common thread.  

There are definitely stories of random beauty- a perfect sunset, having an old song come on the radio at the right moment, your art piece turning out the way you want.  Moments of magic, and I think that is what they are- magic.  Meant to remind us that there are good things left worth fighting for.  But the stories I love, that bring a little glimmer to my eyes and make me smile, are the ones that people bring to each other.  It is so easy to feel disconnected and separated from each other- there are a billion things to fight about- and many of them are worth fighting for.  But sometimes, all of that fades for a second in the face of someone's need.  I LOVE the stories about a person who sees another person hurting and does not stop to ask if the person deserves to be helped- they just help.

My little sister is a key example of this.  She touches people and hope blooms.  She has taught herself to see a need, and to react without question.  I admire it so much.  I remember we were at the beach and we were standing in the waves.  A woman was standing with her small child in her arms letting the waves tickle the child's toes.  And a particularly aggressive wave took her down.  She was holding the child up out of the water, but that meant that she couldn't get herself up out of the water.  Before I even had time to process what was happening, my sister ran in and grabbed the kid so that the mother could get back on her feet.  It shook me out of my processing enough to go offer her a hand.  It was a small thing, but it showed me that we can always be looking for opportunities to spread a tiny bit of kindness.

There was a video- a woman sitting alone at a mall food court.  A young man walks up and asks her to hold a bouquet of flowers for him while he puts his jacket on.  He gets his jacket on and then asks her to have a good day, leaving the flowers.  She looks concerned at first, until she realizes that was his intent all along.  And then her face changes and you see her cry.  I don't know what that woman may have been going through, but you could see how much that small act mattered. 

I know someone who was struggling, a lot, with a lot of things.  One of those things was money.  He had a horrible toothache, and he went to get it taken care of, scraping together enough for the bill- except when he got there, they told him that wasn't the full price- it was just the procedure, and didn't include the office visit or multiple other charges.  He broke down.  He felt so inadequate and so frustrated and so tired and helpless.  He stepped out of the office to collect himself and saw a woman in the waiting room.  He was embarrassed she had seen him break down.  He worked out a deal with the dentist to pay the part of the bill he had expected, and the rest he would find a way to pay off with a payment plan.  He got the root canal, and then he walked out to find his bill was half of what he thought it would be- the woman in the waiting room had paid for part of it.  She saw someone in need and didn't see weakness, she saw a fellow human.  She didn't ask if he deserved it- he did- she just knew she could make someone's day a little less heavy.

It hit me, that maybe we are the miracles.  Not always- there are those moments of serendipity that take your breath away, and I love those moments.  But the rest of the miracles are what we do for each other.  The moments we do a little extra that means almost nothing to us but changes someone's whole day- the little thing that you didn't think meant anything that pulled someone from a dark cloud and back into the light.  I hope I can learn from my sister- enough to recognize the moments where I could spread a little light.  Maybe the change I've been craving is in recognizing the moments of magic, and also in actively being a part in creating them.

 

This is just to say...

I feel a bit flat right now.  I feel like mental illness is difficult not just because mental illness is difficult, but because it is so little understood.  I have had people tell me I am bipolar, ADD, or vitamin B deficient, or just plain strange.  I have had people tell me I have depression, dysthymia, anxiety, depersonalization and derealization, Complex PTSD, and a whole stew of other things.  I have had people tell me to turn to religion, to health, to just try more, to put myself out there more.  I have had people recommend books and ted talks and songs and types of therapy.  Diets.  Meditations.  Maybe I have them all and maybe I have none of them.  Maybe I am just lazy or maybe I am 'dwelling' and creating my own mental illness.

I don't know.

And I'm tired.  I'm not giving up.  I'm not giving in.  But I needed to say it, because I feel it in my BONES.  I am tired.

And I would like to start feeling a little more real again, please.

Flailing snow angels

We had our worst winter storm yet yesterday.  It hit in the middle of the night, and most schools cancelled school or did a late start...but not mine!  So I trudged out the door at 6 am...and immediately was in knee-high snow.  I had to laugh while pushing through a foot of snow to get to my car, because it felt like such a 'This is a Teacher Life' moment.  Like there would be a bunch of undisturbed yards where everyone was snug in bed, and then there would be a weary path through the snow at random houses where teachers had to push through to get to work (I pictured it as an above shot from Google Earth).  Not that teachers are the only ones who had to go to work, but as that is my job, that's who I pictured.

I got to my car (also covered by a foot of snow) and realized that I would have to dig it out in order to go anywhere.  I started brushing all the snow off with my ice scraper/snow brush and working my way around the car.  Everything was cold (I don't plan well, so I had not worn snow boots or gloves), but fine...until I hit the curb.  Down I went, right into a huge snowbank.  I tried to stand back up, but my high school skater shoes did not have the traction to do so.  (Side note about my shoes later).  I slipped back into the snow, so at this point if anyone had been awake to look out of their window, they would have seen a girl flopping like a fish in the snow, even though she was obviously not dressed for snow angels.  Finally, I looked at my hand sadly, and then put it into the snowbank in order to push myself up to standing.  I grabbed a nearby tree and pulled myself out of the snowbank.  I was so discombobulated by this point I thanked the tree (out loud.  I'm not rude).  I made it into my car, looking more like an icicle than a human, and made the hour-long half-an-hour drive to school (white knuckled and shaky, but safe!)

Winter has just started, and I'm already completely over the snow.  I need some hot chocolate.  And whiskey.  And more whiskey.

Tired

I feel like January has lasted 5 years.  In the 7 years since January has started, I have had a lot happen in work, family, personal, friendship, etc.  My friend moved, my work was audited, paperwork was due, meetings needed to be held, I had a birthday, my partner had a birthday, I lost a pet (Sam, the sassiest fish), I had multiple existential crises (can you just live in a constant state of existential crisis?), my anxiety and depression ticked up, and I have had the startling realization that I'm just coasting...still...despite several attempts to get out of my rut and start living.

But in the 10 years since January started, I have also: realized that this relationship is hard, but that it is hard because we are trying to do it WELL.  Meaning I am trying not to lose myself in a person and that person is trying to have healthy boundaries and also let someone in.  We are both trying to learn to navigate this whole being responsible for ourselves while having another person in our lives that we need to take into consideration...thing.  I have met new friends and reconnected with old ones.  I got a piano, and was shocked by how much music and joy that has given me.  I have spent a lot of quality time with my grandmother, whom I look up to and adore so much.  (I will tell you about my grandma another time- she is the coolest person).  I have gone to drag shows and burlesque shows and comedy shows and dance shows.  I have watched pole dancing with my grandma.  I have danced and slept and watched reality tv and worried and laughed.  I started the most Hufflepuff war with my best friend- she works in the same building and so I took her Italian Cream Sodas I made at work and dropped them off at the front desk, and she in turn dropped off cookies at my work with a note that said, "Two can play this game."  I have talked for hours with far away friends, and made bubbles with my partner's kids and took videos of them laughing and didn't even feel upset that the kitchen was drenched in bubbles after.  

So I guess that even though right now I feel tired in my bones, and frustrated, and more than a little sad and lost...there are good things that have come from this 100 years of January.  So maybe this year is going to be okay. 

Who doesn't want a Parrot for Halloween?

This did not just happen, but I was reminded of it just now and it's such a strange story I feel like sharing. 

One Halloween, I was at home hanging out with my dad, since I had forgotten to actually plan and had no costume.  I was upstairs and heard a strange scrabbly sound on the roof.  I ignored it (because ghosts) and decided not to be the person who goes to investigate first and dies.  Until I heard a squawking sound.  So I walked outside, looked up...and there was a parrot on the roof of my (desert) home.  Not even a small one.  A macaw. 

I calmly walked back inside and yelled to my dad, "There's a parrot on the roof!  Get the ladder and I'll get the crackers!"  To which he responded, appropriately, "What!?"  Despite his confusion, he got the ladder and I took the crackers on the roof and approached the nervous bird.  He didn't seem to be great at flying, which is confusing, because he had made it ON THE ROOF.  He was a bit upset, which is also fair because it was Halloween and there were a lot of strange creatures wandering the neighborhood also squawking.  And because he was not on the roof of his own home.  I gave him some crackers, which calmed him down a bit. 

The thing about Macaws is...they are big, and they have powerful beaks.  This guy could take off a finger or a chunk out of my arm if he was too upset, and he didn't know me.  I used to babysit a Macaw, and I had learned how to read them a bit, and this guy was still nervous.  I figured a stranger, even a nice one who gave you crackers, picking you up and carrying you down a ladder (awkwardly) would be upsetting enough to make him bite, so I thought I'd just...sit with him until I figured out a better plan.  So we sat together watching the sun go down, and then I heard people calling out a name.  They were walking along with flashlights looking in bushes.  Assuming it wasn't some strange Halloween ritual, I yelled out to ask them if they were looking for a parrot.  They were very excited, and the parrot's real mom came up and climbed the ladder.  The bird was very happy to see her, and she was able to get him safely down the ladder.

And that is why sometimes it's worth exploring strange noises on your roof.  It may not be monsters.  It may be a very nervous bird in need of some crackers.

I Am Accidentally Creepy a LOT, guys.

I had the realization the other day that my social awkwardness when I'm feeling all floozy is just silly to behold.  Sometimes I am really disappointed that no one else sees these moments.  But I guess that I have learned that if I laugh at them, they don't seem so horrifying.

I was at the gas station the other day when I passed an old gentleman digging through the trash.  I watched to see if he was looking for food scraps, coffee scraps, or cigarette scraps.  When I saw him take a big mac wrapper out of the trash and examine it for crumbs, I got out and grabbed the (very worn and abandoned) box of pop tarts, felt around for the least squished packet, and handed it to him.  He tried to say something, and then signed "Thank you".  I felt so sad.  I can't imagine how hard it would be to find a job if you couldn't speak, and didn't have the resources to help you find a job that would accommodate that.  It kind of startled me, and so I panicked in how to respond, smiled at him in the weirdest way possible, and signed something that was probably a mix between, "Sorry", "Please," and, "Abbujabba".  Then I ran away.

The next day, I was walking passed a man and a dog, and was so overcome by the cuteness of the dog, that I went to say, "Cute dog!"  Only a demon temporarily took over my vocal chords, and what came out was "I like your dog" in the most demonic whisper I've ever heard.  Then I ran away.  Again.

I hope that poor guy doesn't have nightmares about me.  Oh, well.

It's my blog, I'll say vagina if I want to...

A weird thing happens whenever I go to the gynecologist.  That is a sentence that should probably not exist, but there you go.  And the best part of this whole thing is that it isn't ever the SAME weird thing.  Which would be...better?  No.  It is a DIFFERENT WEIRD THING every time.  One time I went to the gynecologist and she told me that I'm bipolar.  Which was alarming, because who wants a bipolar vagina!?  Besides that, the woman was not a regular gynecologist, so I was a bit curious how she came to that conclusion without talking to me.  (Answer: I'm not actually bipolar.  Probably.)   Another time (and another gynecologist) informed me that I have a severe Vitamin B deficiency.  Also not something I thought you could tell by looking at a vagina.  (This one is possibly true and would explain why I'm tired all of the time).

Going to the gynecologist is not a pleasant experience to begin with.  Now, I get anxiety because I'm not entirely sure what weird thing is going to happen next.  Maybe it will be dementia.  Maybe my vagina will have ADD.  What does that even mean?  I don't know.

I didn't actually intend for this blogpost to be primarily about vaginas.  But accidents happen.  Even accidental vagina posts.