The past several months –
let’s say the last six months - have been so eventful that I
find myself needing to step back and take it all in repeatedly.
Being in the present
almost requires pinching myself to absorb the new reality as things shift so
frequently. It takes self-protection, humbling myself, looking at things
through other’s eyes and reminders of what is good and normal and what is not.
Also, to realize that life goes on whether you want time to pass or not.
There are times this past
year when my world stopped spinning briefly.
November 9th.
When Trump was elected. I wasn’t watching the results the evening before as I
flew from Boston and then drove on the rainy New Jersey turnpike to some
godforsaken industrial zone to find my hotel.
I woke to the news that
Clinton had lost in a generic hotel room in New Jersey as I was ironing my work
clothes for the day.
I remember thinking I
couldn’t go on with my day. That I needed to be at home curled safely in bed with my family.
My world had fallen off
its axis. I sobbed and wondered how I could get my shit together enough to meet
with customers (warehouse management particularly) that may very well have
voted for Trump and likely be unsympathetic to my red-rimmed eyes.
Somehow I pulled it
together enough to fake it through the day. I cried randomly for the next two
days. On airplanes. Driving. In the comfort of my own home. I proceeded to
denial and stayed there for a nice long time.
I saw I wasn’t alone in my
shock and disbelief. That helped a bit.
Then, when Trump rescinded
the Title IX protections for transgender students, I went to war. I found out
there are active hate groups. They quietly languished after the Supreme Court
legalized same-sex marriage during the Obama administration but now they’ve
mobilized again. They can’t repeal a Supreme Court ruling so they’re taking aim
at anything ambiguously defined - especially transgender rights.
I’ve been a regular at
school board meetings ever since. It’s ugly, and it’s necessary and I’ve stuck
my neck out there with my voice and my pleading as sugar sweet as tea in Texas.
I’ve been asked to run for
the school board. I’m not going to – I’m busy enough and there are fires to put
out in more places than just the school district.
This has shaken my world –
but broadened it, too. I’m a part of communities I didn’t know existed and have
become a mentor and ally to a greater degree than before.
It’s not that the struggle
and the hate groups didn’t exist before—it’s that I was less aware of them and
the world looked like sunshine and rainbows until they began to feel empowered
and began to really push their hateful agenda. They’re going after our kids,
and I’ll fight them, their misinformation and hidden agendas and deep funding
from radical right wing so-called Christian organizations.
But, Trump and the hate
that has crept out of the dark shadows with his rise to power, is not what has
shaken my world the most in 2017.
It was Sam’s death.
He’s not my son – but he grew up in tandem with my son. The Millers are like family, even years after Shelli isn’t raising my babies.
I knew Sam’s heart. His
kindness. His tenderness and goodness.
I knew he struggled and I
felt like a kindred soul in that struggle. We’re all broken and I’m working
hard and knew he was working hard, too.
He loved his son and
fiancée so much – it’s like the same tether that has kept me from harm from
time to time, too.
When Sam died, the world
stopped, again. I could only watch Shelli and Jason’s raw pain and FEEL it. I
imagine what the pain of losing your only son, your youngest child might be
like and then know that it must be more excruciating than even my imagination
can fathom.
Again, the world tiltled
off its axis and it didn’t seem like time could move forward. But then, once
again I had to rush to the airport with scant time to hug Shelli and her family
and cry with them. At least I has home in time to attend his funeral…but even
that was a haze of pain where I didn’t feel like I could be useful.
There were other moments
that stopped time. A more trivial one was when I worked my ass off all of 2016
– harder than I’ve ever worked in my life – and was looked over for ANY recognition at the start of our fiscal year and sales kick off in Jan. 2017.
I’d seen people recognized in multiple categories and for less effort the year before and had been told already by my boss that I was the top; the highest in our group and that I’d be taking my husband to President’s Club (which has been at a resort in Mexico).
I’d seen people recognized in multiple categories and for less effort the year before and had been told already by my boss that I was the top; the highest in our group and that I’d be taking my husband to President’s Club (which has been at a resort in Mexico).
The names went up on the
screen for President's Club and I wasn’t there. We had small group meetings and no one said: “Good
job, you’re number one this year.”
No one acknowledged the 80
hour weeks and the sacrifices I and my family made.
I would have worked hard
no matter what; but to be overlooked entirely for any recognition burned. It
hurt. I’d been promised something that didn’t happen. I got demoted in title,
too. I’ve had to suck it up and continue to do my best work. Suck it up Buttercup.
It stings – it pisses me
off from time to time, but aside from being another suck part of the past 6
months, it somehow feels trivial and petty by comparison to others’ pain.
But then I have to stand
back and also acknowledge all the bright spots. The beautiful things that have
happened that almost don’t feel fair. That I’m almost embarrassed to share
because savoring this happiness during a dark time feels like not sharing my
candy with the other kids.
My new car. My dream car.
It was unexpected and yet…it’s a dream come true. I’m like a 16-year-old kid
looking for any excuse to drive anywhere just to sit in my car.
My cello, and taking cello
lessons at last. It’s been a wish for as long as I can remember. A promise I
made to myself for “someday”. “Someday”
I’ll learn cello and write a book. “Someday” I’ll spend my days quilting. If I
win the lottery then…
And this one I made come
true. Not someday, but now. And my cello teacher is fascinating and wonderful
and FAR better than I deserve or need (she’s a published author, retired principal
cellist for the MSO, and a daughter of Holocaust survivors…I could talk to her
for hours on end).
I’m running. I’m healthy
and strong and able to do what I want to do.
I’m not injured or unable
to run with my friends. When I run, I run with a smile and I think: “I run
because other people can’t”. It’s true.
It’s a gift (even at my slow pace) to be able to use my body this way. To run
with my friends. To do yoga and improve my balance and strength.
Trivial though this may
be, I’m also pleased that I got my “turn kick” in swimming back after decades. I haven’t
done this since I was a 5th or 6th grader—but I’m
swimming while Lucy takes her lessons each Sunday and my flip kick to push off the wall is
back after lots of practice. It’s a bit show-off-y, but damn it’s fun. It’s
amazing to do something I haven’t been able to do for nearly 3 decades.
All this reminds me of
when I was in Israel with Grandma Elaine in 1996.
I remember being in a car
with the guide when she and I had ventured out on our own to walk through a
very Orthodox neighborhood. I wanted to see the culture up front and it wasn’t
part of the tour with the little old ladies, but the guide, who was younger,
took me on this side-excursion and educated me on the Hassidic culture in the
process.
On our way back to central
Jerusalem stopped at a traffic light I saw a young man, maybe late teens, with
his arms folded across his chest and no hands on the steering wheel or brakes
of his bike just coast through the intersection (downhill) at high speed. He
didn’t have the green light, he didn’t touch the handle bar. He just sped
through on his bike and no one hit him and he kept going.
I gaped and pointed and
the guide explained: “They live their life like they could die at any moment.
You can’t give in to the fear. You could be blown up at a café, or shot while
you’re drafted into the military for your mandatory service at age 18. If you
live in constant fear, perhaps you become fearless.”
Maybe this, to a lesser
degree, is what has happened to me in 2017.
I’ve fought back from the
edge. From illness, injury and constant mental health struggles. But damn it, I’m
not letting it hold me back from my bliss. I can't live in fear. The uncertainty and fear - eff 'em.
I’m going to smile every
moment I drive, savor the new car smell, hug my cello and play it (poorly for
the moment) every day.
I’m going to work less and
do yoga and run more.
Screw work. There is no reward in killing yourself with too much work and they don’t pay me enough to go the extra miles I’m already going to do excellent work.
Screw work. There is no reward in killing yourself with too much work and they don’t pay me enough to go the extra miles I’m already going to do excellent work.
I’m going to ask for a
god-damned raise. I deserve it.
I’m going to take vacation
time and NOT ANSWER THE WORK CALLS this time.
I’m going to stop working
earlier and make time to see friends even if it’s a 2pm on a Monday afternoon.
I work more than my 40 hours; I don’t feel like I should apologize one bit for
taking time for me.
I’m going to not apologize, needlessly
and reflexively like many women do, and tell people how I feel more.
I’m going to say “I love
you” and “I appreciate you” and “I hurt for you” and I’m going to SHOW UP. I’m
going to hug people and let them know I’m on their side.
If time has to march
forward, then I’m going to squeeze every bit of joy, love and goodness out of
life. I’m going to fight for what is right and protect those who need our
protection.
I’m humbled by the good
health, family and material perks that bring me happiness. I still hurt…but I
am consciously focusing on living my life like that Israeli teen. (Though not
as recklessly.)
I won’t live in fear. I
won’t wallow in the pain and disappointment. If time presses on relentlessly
then I will make time my “someday” and do what I need and want to do right now,
in the present.
No comments:
Post a Comment