That point when my anxiety spikes….

Because life likes to do that to me. This is mainly around my professional life because that tends to be the source of it. Life was going pretty well, but I’ve been restless, like I’m missing something. There has been a path that I’ve been working towards, but every time I start to take a step on it the universe likes to throw a monkey wrench at me.

This time around, I started making the renovations that everyone has asked of me. Now they’ve all left. My long-time office mate, in trying to build her business, has chosen to move elsewhere. There’s an extent to which I’m happy for her, but stressed out from where it puts me.

But this time, I’ve determined I’m not letting it sideline me. In fact, it’s energized me to a certain extent and is pushing me to move in the direction that I started to – but side tracked because that whole “gotta make money” thing. Over the weekend, I sat down and catalogued what I need to do, set up a post to get me back where I need to be, and now I’m looking at how to finance it all. And therein lies the stress.

It’s the downside for those of us who choose to not sit at an office, but instead choose to be the people that those who do make that choice seek out when the stress rains down on them. I guess it’s a weird dichotomy in this world that we live in.

I do think we’re on a cusp of change. In the past, that was where my anxiety stemmed from. But this last year and a half, I’ve felt a calming – like we’re no longer building up to it and are now in the midst of it. I know this change has caused many to have their own anxiety (which I can understand given the current political climate we live in). But I’m seeing the choices that many are taking and I’m heartened by it.

And now I’m rambling. 🙂

But back to the subject, I have been needing to make a vision board. I have a written plan, will probably add some of that here as I progress.

A little over a year ago I rescued a Southern Flying Squirrel. My cats started bringing them in 2 Februarys ago, in their baby stages. The first one came in on the back of its momma and only lived a couple of days. I didn’t know much then, but I learned quickly.

Our next one was Tiny One. She was old enough to have fur, but wasn’t quite old enough to be romping around without mom. So we kept her warm, fed her, and soon she was tormenting the cats thinking they were playmates.

As she grew we eventually gave her one of the spare rooms in our house. Her and her sister (another that the cats brought in, but was intended to be released once the hard freeze was over) were constantly heard jumping around the obstacle course we created for them. Eventually, Little escaped, finding some space between the drywall in the closet to the attic. From there she chewed a hole and out she went.

Tiny stayed and moved back into her bachelorette pad that consisted of a towel folded over a clothes hanging rod filled with pillow stuffing. She loved June bugs and thought cicadas were the most prized delicacy when we were able to catch them for her.

In Little’s escape, another squirrel showed up and was caught up in the live trap we put up. Since there was a hole, there was a good chance she was going to come back, so into the room she went. Call placed to have the hole blocked and in that time, we suddenly had 4 babies join the family. So momma and kids stayed. Tiny eventually became the awesome aunt until it was time for them to go outside.

A couple of weeks ago, I started repeatedly catching another squirrel in the trap. So, same thing occurs. Call placed, waiting on the person to come patch the hole. But this time Tiny didn’t get to play the awesome aunt. We don’t know what exactly happened, but I found her unresponsive and I’m choosing to believe it was natural and not from a fight between them. I’m overwhelmed with grief, as during the short lifespan she was an anchor as I lost 2 cats that I’ve had for the last 20 years. Her squirreliness and love of climbing all over me, hiding nuts in my hair and all over my clothes, brought some kind of peace to what I was feeling.

Watching her learn to fly was even more awesome. Her and Little used to chase each other up my legs and onto my shoulders where they would jump and fly off to a shelf or the floor, then turn around and run back up. Just like kids who discover sledding or the most awesome slide in the world. The same went when I brought in her favourite bugs or nuts. You could see the absolute joy in her being when she realized what was in front of her.

I’m trying to come to terms with everything. Part of me is saying that this is just nature cycling, as the other squirrel has yet to return to my attic, despite the hole still being somewhere. The fact that it was on Imbolc when I found her and our running joke was that she put out in squirrel mail that we were awesome folks who were willing to take care of them during winter resulted in additional guests during the cold snaps.

But you never know what’s going to worm its way into your heart. And it’s hard to think I can’t walk into her room and have a face hugger coming at my head from the closet anymore (it was her favourite thing to do to us when we walked in). Or holding one of my cats and watching her jump on the cat’s face and sniff her then bound away.

I take solace in the fact that my cats no longer kill them and bring them in. My oldest brings me the baby babies (last one had just gotten its fur, but only lasted a couple of hours). But since Little, they haven’t brought any in that were harmed.

Randomness…

There have been a lot of changes on the horizon for me, both personally and professionally. It’s been a bit of a rush with a ton of anxiety because it’s a change that will ultimately, I hope, benefit others but it puts me into a realm of unknown and regrouping.

But that’s what winter is about, isn’t it? Going into the depths of the dark, seeking out the unknown, confronting it, then growing from it. At this point, I’m just trying to come to terms with what has been thrown at me. I have a track that I’m on and I’m actively forcing myself to stay on it, despite these last minute changes. Especially because it puts me in a bind with some of my previous choices that focused on professional growth in my office and required additional funds that needed to be directed that way.

But as with nature, the cold frost hits and kills things off. A little warmth steps in and allows seeds to crack so those first roots can tap the depths; before the fingers can reach up towards the surface and draw in the sun and the warmth.

As winter arrives…

The weather is finally starting to commit to winter around here. As I’ve lived here for the last 20ish years, winter has been an elusive beast that tempts you into thinking that the season exists right as it morphs directly into spring.

But that seems to be shifting, as more and more winter comes out of its hiding place and firmly displays the 20 degree temperatures and the copious precipitation that comes with it.

It starts with the rains, they come heavy for days. Then the temperature drops, and the water begins to crystalize and the scent of outside begins to give off that pure scent that says “snow is here”. This is how we renew, casting off the things that die and no longer serve us, so they can become the nourishment for the new things allowed to grow in the space where death once roamed.

I think this is one issue we have in our society. We no longer have an acceptance of death. It’s more of something we either seek to hide away in hospitals or communities of elder care facilities and cemeteries. We look to modern medicine and “fountain of youth” treatments to avoid the natural progression of life. In our great progress to treat our disease of self, we’ve created a new bug. Not one created from a virus or bacterium but one that is in our heads and our social structures.

It makes us immune to the effects our words and conduct have towards others. The “sticks and stones” rhyme made real. Failing to see the consequences of our thoughts made real. And if we do, see those consequences, they’re shrugged off with simple dismissal that it’s someone else’s problem.

Ramblings…

So I have a new non-fiction book (well, fiction if you consider that the topic is about fake news and smear campaigns) that I seem to not shut up about. I love reading stuff that is a bit off the wall but grounded in analysis – maybe that’s the Sherlock Holmes wanna be in me that gets stoked. At any rate, The Smear, by Sharyl Attkinsson (sp?) is my latest reading binge. It’s taking me away from Turn: George Washington’s spys on Netflix.

I’m ranking it up there with Cows, Pigs, Wars and Witches by Marvin Harris. Mainly because I love perspectives that make me rethink how I look at things, as well as possibly gain an insight that I tend to miss being an anti-social hermit.

The main reason I’m devouring it has more to do with what I’ve been seeing on my FB feed and the various stories propigated by friends and acquainences. It also lends an interesting perspective to the fallout I’m seeing from the recent Gillette commercial addressing “toxic” masculinity and the debate that has been sparked. I followed the rabbit hole and read through the comments on the YouTube post, and if you can’t tell the majority of the comments are the same, or just slight modifications of the same post.

It half makes me wonder what would happen if all of us ceased posting, what would the bots and the humans paid to write the reviews come up with, if all of us just didn’t pay attention to it. It really reads like those article transcripts of people who set up a couple of AIs and let them talk to each other. The only difference is that AIs will debate, argue, and discuss their subjects. These things just regugitate a single talking point.

It half reads like a modernized theatrical production based off Huxley’s Brave New World with some Fahrenheit 451. The only difference is that we’re living it, instead of reading and discussing it in our Senior year lit class in HS.

On being a slacker…

Hallo dear readers,

I’ve been a slacker. Well, not really, but in regards to writing I have been. I’ve made putting out fires my priority over tending to my own monkeys. For that I apologize. I’m putting this out there as a way to give myself some accountability. Every Wednesday or Thursday I’m going to write out a brain dump that hopefully will turn into something a little more intentional and planned out.

I’m starting with my personal blog and hopefully that will morph over to my business blog (nope, not gonna connect it. If you’re that interested consider this a game of hide ‘n seek of the over-worked adult variety). I have no clue what will come out of my head but if you read through my former LJ, you’ll see that it ran the gamut. From overly deep and TMI introspection (my former partner and I had many an argument over my method of sharing) to rain glazed highway shallowness.

But I am at an age where a lot of what you’ll see there has somewhat been mastered in a way that it’s not a written process anymore. Sure, there are still interpersonal relationship issues that I deal with and will probably process here, but most of those deal with the fact that I am anti-social and highly introverted to the point where I should have a psychologist to talk to instead of blog. But hey, here we are and it’s functional. On top of that, I don’t have to worry about my usual issue of not being heard because I don’t look at my analytics. 😀

So, at any rate…welcome to my attic – where all the skeletons are hidden.

New year, new….?

So I’ve closed out this last secular year. I look back and find that I have failed at my desire to begin writing more. That was the whole point of opening my journal back up and creating this space, separate from my past. So I’m making a point to recommit to it by setting aside time each week, even if it’s just a brain dump.

The last remaining threads of a past chapter disintegrated in the past year. Last Christmas eve, I spent the day holding onto the first furbaby that I chose, in absence of the failed partnership that brought me her sister and brother, as she slipped across the veil. She was preceded 2 years before by her older sister, and this Samhuinn her slightly younger brother joined her. 23/24 years of my life between the 3 of them. The pain was so great that I just kept quiet, preferring to grieve in my own time in my own silence. Only one person, out of all of my close friends, reached out to me to express her condolences. The rest chose to extend them to my partner on his FB page.

I tell this tale because it was an eye opener for me. In fact, most of this year has been one. I’ve always been the “outsider”, the person that kinda wafts between groups, cliques, friends. Rarely having that bond that some claim is a “BFF”, though, oddly enough the few people I can look to and see that bond share a birthday with me. It’s sparked a conversation between me and my parents, especially a few months ago when I was at the deepest point, traversing the staircase that takes me to my psychological basement. A connection that I’ve never had with either of them and a connection that has led my mom and I closer, as we’ve finally found that thread that connects us past our DNA.

I have had bright spots. The brightest being the connections I’ve made professionally and somewhat in the activist world. My professional connections are what is going to make this next year interesting. A new direction in my career, which I hope see blossom in the coming months. Goals have been set, plans are being put onto paper and courses set.

Activist-wise, I’ve always leaned towards the greatest freedom. I grew up in rural areas, surrounded by remnants and spirit of the original caretakers of this land. I’ve always felt connected to them in some way, even though my beliefs are a follow up to those of my pre-Christian European ancestors. The land, the sea, and the sky are the threads that connect those ancestors to the ancestors of the land I live upon. The last few years I’ve had a wrenching in my heart about something that has been long in coming. This year, that knot has slowly been unravelling as I watched the nations that inhabit North Dakota and the surrounding areas stand up to a gov’t that has long reneged on its treaties and promises. I watched as more and more indigenous voices rose and claimed a right that has long been theirs, but has been shouted down because the wounds of others are more recent and viewed as more raw. I’ve watched as they, and those with more recent wounds have been heard. I view myself as privileged to have made acquaintance with these voices and been witness to their strength in rising. And privileged in being able to support these people with such inherent greatness.

While this last year has obviously had some overwhelming dark spots. My ability to be “a watcher” has helped me take a different tack from most of what I see in the news. Yes, my country stands teetering on the precipice that many nations have faced in modern times. And which direction we will ultimately fall on remains to be seen. But if we are truly in an era of a great unraveling, then what better way to unravel than through the actions of the jester, the machinations puppet of a trickster god? In most tales, and philosophies for that matter, one cannot truly move forward until one unloads the baggage of the past. And if this is how we dump that suitcase and deal with all the horrors that we’ve created for ourselves and leech the wounds that have been inflicted, so that they can really heal, then I can be okay with that. But it requires us to work toward healing – which, unfortunately, it’s obvious that for some healing is a continuance of the illness that got us here in the first place. But I have hope.

Ghost in the shell…

Not the wonderful anime, unfortunately.

When people talk about depression, which is good, they often just talk. Least, that’s how I see it when dealing with my own. It’s why I don’t talk about it much. But I’m going to here…

The title is how I feel walking around most days. I’m invisible when I’m in low tide. Unfortunately, it gives me the opportunity to wallow in what I view of my failures and overwhelming short-comings. I know, in my rational mind, that it’s a perception and it’s not really true. There’s a portion where I manifest my own destiny through that unconscious thought patterns, but as far as Brene Brown’s definitions I honestly don’t feel like I belong anywhere.

The interesting thing, is that I actually opened up to my parents today. Turns out, my mom has felt the same way most of her life. Lots of people can point to us and say that they know us, but honestly, I can’t say that I’ve had a best friend since college. I have close friends and my husband is the only person I can point to and say I have a best friend. But outside of that, I don’t have people I shop with, go hiking with, explore stuff like this with – except strangers. It’s easier to open up to an anonymous group of strangers than it is to people I consider friends.

I’ve gotten away from it. Why? Well, because according to one person in my past – who also filled the position of “best friend” – I wore my heart on my sleeve and he took it upon himself to “fix” me. Which goes back to Brown’s idea of belonging. I appreciated the definition that she was able to stumble upon in her interviews that describe it as being accepted into a group without having to change a single thing about yourself. I guess that’s what the more fluffy side of the yoga community describes as “finding your tribe”.

But I can definitely describe myself as being lonely. The only time I truly don’t feel that way is when I’m out in the woods – alone. I think that’s why Hesse’s poetry always resonated with me.

Seltzam im Nebel zu wandern
Einsam ist allein.
Aber einsam ist nicht allein.

My dad says it’s not a bad thing, as long as I’m not purposely isolating myself – with my squirrels. But honestly, my squirrels and my cats seem to understand me better.

Art imitates life, which imitates art…

On a plane to Paris, and I manage to pull up 12 Years a Slave. Thanks to my parents, I’ve always been one to seek out the art that pulls some type of emotion out of me. Stirs my thoughts in ways that my environment might otherwise not let me explore.

There was a point, where Fassbender’s character has a conversation with Pitt’s character, about how there will come a day where there will be a reckoning. It echo’s me back to Lee’s White Man’s Burden, where the societal rolls are flipped in order to explore the human experience.

That brings me to our current events, in the States, where I do believe we are on the precipice of a reckoning. First Nations are no longer relegated to the “out of mind” position that the reservation system sought to contain. Voices are now being heard, that should be heard. They’ve been drowned out by the arrogance of those who think they know best. And now, those who have consistently been trampled upon and shouted down have the opportunity to rise.

But…and there’s a big one…we run the risk of just letting the pendulum swing back the other way instead of stopping it in its tracks. So the choice is ours, all of ours. Will we return the favour and punish all for the sins our predecessors committed, or will we – as T’Challa found – find a better way forward for all by recognizing the failures of those who came before us and recognizing that we are not them. We are better. We can be better. We can listen to each other, learn from each other, and grow into a better society.

The phoenix must be consumed by its fires before it can be reborn, renewed. All of our myths talk of this. And now, we must be part of it, without letting the chaos consume us and burn us with its hatred.

Grab your humanity!!!!

So I’ve been watching, because I do that kind of thing, and the one thing that I’m noticing about a good chunk of the discussion is the lack of humanity. This primarily came up because there’s a bullet that likes to remind me that I dodged it. Every time I listen to this person open their “mouth” I find the absolute loss of empathy and humanity coming out of it. There’s an extent to which it saddens me, but that’s not my responsibility nor did I dig the hole that keeps getting deeper.

Then I reflect to the grander picture. Our society is a very, very fine balance; as any society is. Law attempts to be humane but there comes a point where Lady Justice has to put her blindfold on and decide based on what we’ve decided, as a society, is guilt or innocence. Being on either end of that spectrum doesn’t determine the presence or absence of humanity, but how we dole out the consequences does.

In our current climate we’ve subsisted on soundbites and half stories for decades, which for the folks my age was the whole premise behind Reality Bites. We love the tidbits, we love filling in the gaps and making new stories out of them, but we really hate having to own up to the fact that we jumped the gun. This leads us to the whole false narrative issues we’re starting to see play out in our media. Our need for “right now” not “wait and see”.

This is where I’m going to tell you – grab your fucking humanity. Put yourself in a mental situation that doesn’t include whatever bubble you were cushioned by growing up. Consider it a thought project safe space, if you need those. Imagine being in a situation that many people these days are finding themselves in – in our multi-ethnic society – that seeks a specific individuality that is based on a specific group ideal. How and what would you do in that situation? Do you have all the facts? Could you truly make a decision based on what you do know?

Our human experiences are all different. We may not be able to know exactly how someone else feels based on our individual environments, but we can relate and we can imagine to try and find that point. It really isn’t that difficult. It’s just easier to default to hate because it doesn’t require any real rational thought or discussion. When we do that, and when we approach from that direction – that is where we find the points we can make a change for the better. And I would really like to see us do better.