My Thoughts On a Crisis

The world is going through sudden pandemonium. And apparently none of us saw it coming. Even though we’ve been warned. Even though we’ve been writing books about it and making movies about it and scaring each other with it for years now. Because we never expected it to really happen.

Everything is changing, but I almost feel as if nothing has changed at all. My routines are still the same. I’m still alone all weekend because I don’t have any friends and my husband works weekends. I still do yoga most days. I still take my dog on walks and deal with her anxiety when there’s too much going on outside. I still go to work. I still buy things only in the amounts I need.

But life has still been thrown off kilter. I take public transit to work because it’s cheaper than filling my car up with gas every week. On Friday, I was one of the only people on most of my buses. I’ve been told the freeways feel empty. Everything is being closed or cancelled. And my company’s sales dropped by 50% in two days. Which means they can’t afford to pay all of their employees unless we drop down to four days a week. On Monday we’ll find out if more days need to be cut. Which means I’ll lose money when I’m barely making it as it is. Which means the review and raise my offer letter promised I’d get a month ago most likely aren’t ever going to happen. Which means I’m once again questioning every decision I’ve made in my recent years.

I sometimes wish I’d never moved to Alabama. I was making good money before that move. I was stable. But I was wild. I was going out and drinking and trying things that I once said I’d never try. I was staying out late and getting up early and working two jobs. But I was having fun. I was also in my early 20s. I’m not in my early 20s anymore.
I often wish I’d never quit my job at Starbucks. I had good benefits. I always knew I’d get hours. I had friends at work that I enjoyed talking to and listening to and hanging out with outside of work. I had stability. If this pandemic had hit then, that large corporation would make sure I was taken care of as a valuable employee. But I was depressed. I didn’t feel heard by the other supervisors or by my manager. I tried for months to quit that job. I didn’t have weekends or evenings off. My back always hurt.
I sometimes wish we hadn’t moved home to California. My boyfriend turned fiance turned husband wouldn’t have been screwed over by someone I was friends with in high school. And he wouldn’t have spent six months feeling depressed and isolated because that’s what small, shitty towns do to you if you’re not ready for them. Half my stuff wouldn’t still be in his dad’s basement or in random places in my childhood home. I would still feel like I could make it on my own. But I’d still be dealing with Alabama weather, Alabama wages, Alabama politics and everything that goes with that. I would still be told by old, slow, southern women that I talk too fast and be hated when I apologize and tell them I’m from California. I would still be homesick.
I wish I hadn’t quit my graduate program. I loved that program. I loved the people that came with it. I would be almost done by now if we hadn’t left. I would have a sense of purpose. I would know that I’d be actually stable in the future. Because I chose a program here and went through the process of writing essays and getting more letters of recommendation and getting accepted so I could finish only to be riddled with so much anxiety and stress and depression that I decided it was better to wait longer. Or maybe not go back at all, because I want to be in another program that is actually good where the professors actually care and where I actually know what is going on. I want to be part of program that I’m excited about it. But I’m not excited about much these days.
I quite frequently wish we hadn’t moved to San Diego. We didn’t have the money saved for this move. I feel so sunk in the hole that I’ll probably never get out. I don’t know anyone and I have no friends. Covered CA keeps fucking up my health insurance and has now cancelled it without telling me. I don’t make enough to keep myself afloat. I am struggling worse than I have since my mom died. I 100% don’t know how I’m going to get through this. But I know that I will. And I know that my partner is happy. I know that I did this for him. I know that I have someone to spend my life with and see everyday, and not everyone has that. I know that we’ll take care of each other. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. We’re going to be okay, eventually.

So our world is sick. Actual insane (most likely white ladies) are buying up every roll of toilet paper, bottle of hand sanitizer, and non perishable food item on the shelves in literally every store. These people actually plan to never go outside again. Sucks for them. But you know what? The world is still turning. Most of us will survive this. We’ll someday get to say “remember when?” And hopefully this will open our nation’s eyes to how much we need healthcare reform.
After days and days of rain, the sun came out today. I got to feel it on my skin and was reminded that very soon it will be warm enough for me to spend hours laying on the beach. Because I only live a mile from the ocean.

Go outside, even if it’s only for a minute. Take a breath of fresh air. And then go read a book, do some yoga, watch a movie, binge some netflix, pet your dog, and kiss your partner. Take this chaotic time and turn it into a time to remember what peace is like. Remember what stillness is like. Remember what it’s like to not feel the need to keep up with everything going on. Take this as a time to hit reset for a little while.
Remember what the sun feels like.

That Was Today?

Today, I have done seven minutes of yoga.  I have watched far too many episodes of Parenthood.  I have washed dishes.  I ordered Chinese food.  I walked my dog.  We cuddled too.  Now we’re sitting on opposite couches.

You know what I didn’t get to do?  Go look at the sun.  Because I don’t have eclipse glasses.  I did get to see the little crescents through a colander.  And all of the photos my boyfriend sent me.

It’s just strange that this is a monumental time in my life.  It’s the only chance I have to see it.  Two seconds was long enough I think though.  Because the idea in my head is more exciting than the actual event.

It was just nice to have a day off I think.  That’s all I think.

Arson

He stirs the waters
A storm on the horizon
Like the rising sun
He will not be ignored

Unsettled
Learning to rest in this
Rushing forward to the eye of the storm
There, in the center, peace is found

With every breath, Yahweh
Breathe him in
Breathe him out
Not gasping anymore

Every step of the way you have fought him
In acceptance and denial
But he has made you this way
He is proud of your fire

Your rebellious nature is one you have been brought up to carry with shame
Yet he breathed it into you at conception
His spark started a flame in you that only love can tame
And he is proud of your fire

Yahweh the arsonist set souls on fire with a new spirit
Though flames are something we have been taught to fear
Because we see only immediate destruction
Rarely has the time been taken to see the new life birthed from these fires

He is proud of your fire
He puts that fire in you
And you’re not going down in flames
If anything, you’re only going up

The World is Not Going to End

The world is not going to end
Not today
Not when we expect it to
It is not dying
Simply maturing

We look at her
Our earth
And see depravity
Decay
Then search for someone to blame it on

But she is not our play thing
We complain that she is broken
When she doesn’t do the things we want her to

There’s not enough water here
It’s too cold there
She sent another hurricane
Searching for sun
Instead of enjoying the rain

We forget it’s not her job
To keep us alive
Mother nature is not our mother
Animals  move on or die
While we complain at doomed survival

Our world is strong
She can restore herself
If we would just stop
Destroying her

In our efforts to kill her
To tame her
To control  her
We are only killing ourselves

The world is not going to end
Not today
Not the way we expect her to
She doesn’t need our help surviving
So why do we try to save her?

Storm

Sun gives way to rain
Day gives way to night
Lost somewhere in between

Touching the ground for remnants of warmth
Touching souls for glimpses of memories long since forgotten
Roads less travelled are still roads

New paths try to be easier
Yet the old ones are tried and true
Nothing was broken to make this

True strength is found in moments of weakness
Not strong enough to fight anymore
But you have kept from breaking

This soil knows what fear looks like
Rejoicing at God’s constant provision
While eyes only see another storm

Stay inside if you’re still afraid
I’ll be on my way now
There are stories still to be told
And I’m ready to listen

My Morning

You are my morning
But morning comes so often that I sometimes forget to stop.
And notice you
Because even as you light everything I do
I still take for granted that you’re my sun and my moon

You are the star that guides me home
And you’re there waiting for me still
But sometimes I let myself get lost along the way
Not quite sure what home is anymore
But I know you’ll still find me

You are the glue that holds me together
Which is why I don’t always fall apart anymore
Yet I still try to hit things like they’ll break me
I am completely whole
But I act like I’m something so broken I’ll never be fixed

Even with all of this though
You forgive me still
You’ll take me back every single time
But I do take this lightly?

You could be my everything
And I’d still find a way to say I’m not enough
Why will I never believe that I’m good enough?
How many times do you have to say it?

Am I really in love with you?
Is this really what love is?
Even in your love, I find myself wanting
So I’m asking you to take me away
I’m asking you to fill me up.