WHAT AND WHERE TO NEXT?

 

Easter Sunday. Sunny. Still cool, – 8 Celsius. I am at least calm if not altogether collected. The world has stopped, so they say. There was plenty of traffic on Preston Avenue yesterday afternoon. I wonder where everyone is going when everything is closed. We are a restless tribe. Of course, Sheba and I were out, too, on our walk. We were getting some physical exercise.

Now that we are forever changed, I wonder how those changes will affect how we will live our lives from now on. The one thing I will not do is to take another cruise after reading how irresponsible the cruise industry is. Imagine 6,000 passengers are remain at sea amid despite the Coronavirus pandemic. I shall not miss it if the industry goes under. The pandemic gives me more pauses to think of how our actions impact on the planet. Cruises  are very bad all around. I’ve been on 4 and have enjoyed them, not knowing better.

I’m floundering and stumbling a bit today, not making good use of my time and energy. I have fallen into my old habit of more self-help. I signed up for a free online course on well-being. It’s probably trying for more accumulation of knowledge I already have. Doing the same old, same old. Time to change habits, pick myself up, dust myself off and use the knowledge I have. No use sitting on them. It’s like money not used but just sitting in the sock draw or the bank.

Listless is what I feel. It’s like being all dressed up with nowhere to go. I’m feeling lucky I’m not one of the passengers on those cruise ships. I know how small those lower class cabins can be. Here, I have a whole house to wander around in. I am counting my blessings. Sheba and I have just came back from our walk. It’s a cold breezy April afternoon. Not too many people out afoot.

So much for my listless mumblings. Not too much of anything at all. At least I’m not full of gloom, doom and the boogy man. I’m staying afloat. Keeping life simple.

 

 

FAITH AND RESILIENCE

The world has stopped. I have, too. My priorities these days are rest and sleep. I do the must do(s). Then I add on a thing or two if I comfortably can. I haven’t been a very restful person, always striving for improvement. I’ve never strived for more stuff, money, status but I work hard at being a better person, being more productive, etc. I haven’t been a very quiet person either. It’s a funny thing to say, when as a child my adults complain that I don’t talk enough. But being a nurse and working with the public, I picked up the gift of gab. Retirement hasn’t changed that. Talking is exhausting sometimes.

It’s good to stop, dropping all that stuff on my shoulders. Good enough is good enough. Rest and sleep are musts for my immune system. I can’t afford to fall into anxiety and/or depression. I’ve given up my  one Wonder Woman act and golden lasso. I get help wherever and whenever offered.


It’s Good Friday. I wish I could say I feel the holiness of it, but I can only sense the eeriness. God feels absent. We have to work through this ourselves, together. I see Jesus on the cross. I see him hanging on the wall. Did God sent his only begotten son down on earth to guide us? Does He love us that much? Can we be saved? Do I have enough faith?

I have learned not to ask the why of things. I try not to take anything personally. It is hard though. The whys of what is happening to me and to the world. They play their tunes in my head. It is exhausting, adding to the stress and anxiety of the everyday life. Locked down, in quarantine, social distancing, whatever mode we are in – life still has to be lived. Yesterday was hard. Another checkup for my mother at the Eye Center in the hospital. 3 months of shingles and its complications.

I am more stressed and anxious over my mother’s illness than the Coronavirus. I’ve lived and worked through the HIV and SARS crises. Though stressful and scary, I did have some control by wearing protective equipment and being cautious. With my mother’s illness, I have no control. I take her for medical attention and being with her. I wonder often if I’ve done a good job though I did the best I could. The rest was all on her. I cannot take over any of her pain and suffering. I cannot take over anyone else’s pain and suffering. We must each carry our own.

If there are any answeres to the many whys floating in my head, it is to teach me resilence and boundaries. It is to teach me I am not all powerful. I cannot fix everything. In these days, I am learning to survive. I am my own life raft. I need to throw off everything except what I need to stay afloat. Faith is my oar. I will light my candles again tonight.

 

WHAT I CAN DO

April 6 -Day 5 and 6 for the Ultimate Blog Challenge

I’m plodding along in this April Challenge. I’m not bored. I’m tired. These months are difficult and heavy. It’s made me more vulnerable to anxiety. So I let myself feel it all. Trying to stop it will make it worse. I have many things that I could do but I don’t have the will. I allow myself to be the languid damsel on the couch. The Japanese Lover by Isabel Allende is a good companion. It’s a good escape for a little while.

I’m not a total couch potato -yet. I still take Sheba out in the afternoons. I only missed one day. The wind, snow and my fatigue was too much. It’s good to recognize one’s limit. I value rest and sleep the most these days. I try for optimism but sometimes it’s difficult. It’s okay to sag. We’re home alone. No one can see except now I’m telling you all. I do what I must and can.

I’m not on top of everything though I’ve just paid the utility bills. But I did missed a couple last month. I don’t fret about those kind of things anymore like I used to. The priority is surviving without adding too much trauma to my emotional and mental health. So it’s a must for Sheba and I to step outside each day. The streets are not crowded. No worries about people invading our personal safety space. Being ‘locked in’ and not stepping outside will add to my anxiety. I’m happy to have my sunroom. It’s cheery and light even on a cloudy day.

This is all I have to offer today. It’s the best I can do. Maybe I can do better tomorrow.

CHINESE NEW YEAR IN APRIL

April/Day 4/20 for the Ultimate Blog Challenge

These days of challenges keep coming at me, at everyone. We need to keep informed of how the world is but the numbers keep climbing. They get scarier and scarier. I’m trying to stay grounded and all but I worry. I worry about my mother’s upcoming appointment at the Eye Centre at the hospital next week. I worry about her vulnerability. At the same time I worry about her eyes not getting checked. I weigh the pros and cons. I will phone Monday to see what they say.

We are in a lockdown. They tell us to stay home. Life goes on though. Sometimes we must go out and sometimes we must let others in. When to go out and who to let in? We never gave it a thought before. Now everything is a dilemma. In the end we called and let the plumber in. A not well draining kitchen sink can be very stressing. Lucky or unlucky our kitchen sink upstairs is connected to the one downstairs. The plumber need not come up at all. Well draining pipes can make me diliriously happy. I’m happy to wash, clean and wipe things down.

It is still winter in April. Snow came down in buckets. It was enough for me to tell Sheba: No walk today. You can have a treat. She paced, gave me a few looks but plopped down on her pillow. She’s an old girl. She got her treats and was satisfied. I am just too tired today to fight the wind and snow today. Sometimes it is good to take a break and give myself a break and a rest.

How are you all doing out there? I will be alright in a minute or two. I’ve learned today that if I keep up with maintenance, life could be easier. I wouldn’t get so stressed in tricky times. But I am learning. I’ve cleaned out 3 under the sink cupboards. I got one more to go – the one in the basement kitchen. I’m cleaning house for Chinese New Year. It’s late this year but it’ll bring so much happiness now that there is room for it. That’s our tradition for New Year. Clean house before the new year. You don’t want to do any sweeping in the new year. You might sweep out good fortune. But we’re making a new tradition in these times. Happy Chinese New Year in April.

 

RETRIEVING OUR SOULS

April 3/20 for the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

I’m feeling a bit challenged now. Once you’ve known anxiety, it comes back to visit now and again. It shivers through my body. I sit with it, offering acceptance and friendship. We are well acquainted. There’s no need to be afraid. We can sip tea and chat together. We have the time. There is no frenzy, no hustle and bustle. No mad rushing off to anywhere. We are hunkered down here in this space and time. Perhaps we can learn how to retrieve our souls.

It is another bright sunny April day. Snow is still on the ground. Sheba and I walk around the neighbourhood and to the nearby park. There’s a couple of kids  in the back alley. They’re loading a toboggan in the back of a car. A young mother and her little boy walks by. We keep our distance. We come to the playground. Yellow ribbons hang from the swings. Signs posted it’s closed till further notice. All is quiet and sad under the April sun.

On our way home, we pass a few people walking, all observing social distancing. There is little conversation or greeting. There is little signs of joy.We see our neighbour unloading  groceries from her car as we neared our back alley. We waved and greeted each other. We had a loud conversation at a distance. Sheba had to join in, making it harder. My neighbour looked tired. I am sure she is. I am sure we all are. We need some soul work.

We are still in a state of emergency. We have this time and experience to rethink of what is essential, what is not and what adds quality to our lives. I’m doing the exercise of taking notes daily of how everything is affecting me during this time of the pandemic. What makes me feel good? What makes me feel bad, sad or frighten? Right now, I’m feeling a little nervous, a little sad. It’s the end of the day. I’m allowed. Maybe I will have a glass of wine.

PULLING UP MY SOCKS

 

April 1, 2020. Fools day but also the start of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’ve been much tried since our last challenge in January. I’m exhausted.  I’m feeling as if I’ve just come out of a grave illness when it is our whole world that is seriously sick, in a pandemic, in a state of emergency. Those very words and the continuous news coverage can stir up fear and anxiety. It is necessary that we recognize that we are in a dire situation. I’m feeling vulnerable in my present physical and emotional state.

My writing space have always been my safe and happy place. So here I am again, tap, tapping for a restful mind, to stop the merry-go-round of harmful repetitive thoughts.


April 2, 2020. I did not finish my post yesterday. Some things are more important than others. It was more important for me to rest to recoup my physical and mental well being. I am here again this morning to finish what I’ve started. I am in a better frame of mind having slept my third night without a sleeping pill. I had a little trouble with intrusive thoughts and was tempted to get out of bed and go for the easier solution. Instead, I had a heart to heart talk with myself. I took a deep breath, calmed my mind and placed a hand over my heart.

I’m regaining my confidence and trust in people. There is evil and bad people but there is goodness and humanity also. I must not lump everyone and everything together and throw everything out. As Caroline Myss says over and over, we are living in a very special and interesting time in history. I must not waste it. Life will never be the same again. It can be better. That is what I’m working toward. It’s time I pull up my socks.

LOOKING FOR A MEANING IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES

 

I go through periods of mad as hell, bad mood and attitude. I’m trying to release this anger and badness to cause as little harm to myself and others as possible. I’m not a perfect human being. I’m terribly flawed with a bad temper and disposition. The good news is my blood pressure is still under control. Once upon a time, if you look at me wrong or I sneeze, it could high rocket to the moon but not back. I admit it, I have anxiety. I had PTSD for 3 years after retirement. I diagnosed myself. It was a good ER doctor who got through to me how strong our thoughts are. That set me on the road to recovery. It wasn’t easy but I got over it. Well, not totally. It resurfaces now and again.

I’m working it out here. This space was created as an archeology of the self, my search for meaning. What is it all about, Lily? What matters to you? My purpose was not that clear to me in the beginning. It is now – Lily’s search for the meaning of her life. What matters to me? Up to this point, I had no recognition of it. I lived mostly for others, not that they asked it of me. It was freely given. I felt it was my duty. I saw it as a one way street. I saw no reflection in the mirror. For me, it is always just that sound of one hand clapping.

It’s no wonder that now I’m mad as hell, like the character in the movie, Network. I’m mad as hell and I won’t take it anymore. I’m the more mad because I did it to myself. I put up no boundaries. I’ve allowed everyone to heap their garbage on me. I felt it was my duty to listen and understand all their problems and offer help and be selfless about it. My world taught me that. Now I’m mad as hell. It is a bad time to feel this way in a pandemic when so much help is needed everywhere.


These days I seem unable to find solace anywhere. Maybe if I stop trying and just live, put one foot in front of the other. I do still get up and show up. It is really not necessary to dress up when we are in lockdown with nowhere to go. I’m lucky that way. I’ve never been a gadabout. I could be a happy hermit. I’m a homebody by nature. I’ve felt deficient being that way. But now I see it’s an asset. I need little material stuff and socializing to be content. I’m happy with a book, cup of tea, baking bread, fermenting. I don’t know if I’m cheap but I like the challenge of living a life with less stuff. I like making do and being mediocre. Being good enough is good enough for me.

I feel my anger and frustration ebbing as I tap. I am not as distraught and heartbroken over the ignorance and cruelty of people. I do remember the kindness of other people, how easy I have been able to navigate the health system through this difficult time for my mother. The doors seems to open to each set of problems right from the start. Even on the weekends and during and maybe because of the Covid-19 thing, the wheels seem smoother. I should not speak too early or loud. I might invite more trouble. We Chinese are very superstitious.

I guess I am still in the desert. Lent is not over till April 9th. That’s my mother’s next appointment at the Eye Centre at City Hospital. She is doing better, taking all her antivirals. She complains about them alot though and is cranky. Three more days, then she has to take one of them daily for a month. She’s got it marked on the calendar. I have to see her physically to tell that she’s ok. On the phones she sounds like she’s going to code any minute. She tells me I over-react and get too excited. How else am I suppose to be when she tells me how bad the side effects are? I still don’t want to be a daughter to any mother. I hope I don’t sound too bad. If I do, it’s just too bad. I will have to live with it.

THE GRACE OF ENDURANCE

Difficult times can bring out the best in people but in cases like myself, it brings out the worse. I’m full of anger and resentment. I would like to be in a demolition derby. I would like to crash and destroy anything and everything that comes into my path. I thought it would be best it I release that energy here. My vehicle is the keyboard, my weapons only words.

According to my muse, Caroline Myss, words are powerful. I shall pay heed and not search and destroy. I shall try not to burn all the bridges behind me. This is my crossing the Rubicon moment. I breathe, raise my sword and tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. “Alea iacta est”! The die is cast. What is said cannot be unsaid. What is done cannot be undone. What has lived cannot be unlived. But regrets and disappointments I have many. My soul cries in agony over them.

But what is suffering without a voice? Whoever made that rule that we must do it in silence? And how do we know we will be rewarded in heaven for doing so? Who will know and give us comfort if we don’t show and tell? The world is amuck, wouldn’t you agree. We are all in lockdown. We did it to ourselves. We are behaving like the animals that we are – panicing and hoarding toilet paper over the coronavirus pandemic. Then we need politicians to warn us not to take advantage of vulnerable and senior citizens in these times. Then there’s the opposite side where people are not taking the coronavirus thing seriously. They are still gathering in large groups. I guess they haven’t heard of what happened in Wuhan, Italy or Spain. How do we really know it’s for real? Maybe it’s just a movie on TV. Maybe we’re all on Netflix in the movie Contagion.

I think I’m suffering what is called depression. I’m sounding like Alex Trebek on Jeopardy.  No,I’m not depressed. I’m really just stressed and mad as hell. I’m venting my anger in a place where it will cause the least damage. And I’m as sad as can be. The tears are dammed behind my throat. I’m letting things hang out now. I’m not trying to be positive. I’m not sugar coating myself. I am not myself. I cannot pretend to be Wonder Woman anymore with her golden lasso. I cannot fix anything.

Do not worry over the state of my mental health. I am venting, releasing steam. I do not want to blow a gasket. This is my safety valve. I know we are now all in this space together. This is just the beginning and not the end. I am not in fear or distress over the COVID -19 pandemic at this moment. Rather I am in my own private fear and anxiety over my mother’s ordeal with shingles – her pain, vision and enduring the side effects of her medications. It is as if we are still connected by the umbilical cord. I feel all her sufferings.

Things started innocent enough on Feb. 8th. You get the diagnosis. You get the treatment. But it is not that simple. One thing leads to another. Pain persists through out relieved somewhat by meds. Now it is March 26th and eye complication.  Another week of her antivirals 3times/day to endure before she can cut down to smaller dose once/day for another month. The good news is she has recovered most of her vision in her eye.

I’m calling out for prayers to help her endure and tolerate another week of her medications. I’m asking for prayers for myself to be strong and endure to help her through this. Maybe after this, I can afford to panic over the pandemic. Praying for all of us. May we be safe. May we be strong. May we have compassion and love for each other.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

It is almost April. How and when did we get here? I have not had a moment of peace since I don’t know when. We had all that trouble with the neighbour next door in the fall. When did I not have trouble with her since she’s moved in 10 plus years ago? But this time, it was enough to call the Police Liason for help. After that I had a small corridor of peace. In December Sheba had her ear hematoma and infection. It was to doggy ER twice and a total of 5 visits in 2 weeks and a bill of $600 plus. The money was the least of it. It was watching Sheba suffering with discomfort and anxiety. It was 2 weeks of little sleep and worry. But she did come out of it with a tiny crimp at the tip of her floppy ear.

Christmas was peaceful and January uneventful. I don’t have a clear memory of it. But came February, my mother came down with shingles on her left forehead. We caught it soon enough but it has been hellish. It’s one thing to watch your dog suffer, it is another to watch your mother. Every time I think it will ease up, it’s just a tease. So I should learn not to expect it to. Maybe then things will get better if I have no expectations and keep quiet. Though I have been accompanying her to her appointments and been vigiliant about possible complications to her eye, it has happened.

I do not have self blame for not doing a good enough job. But I am feeling a lot stressed and stretched now going into the 7th week. Even with the Coronavirus pandemic going on and the state of emergency declared in this province, I’ve managed to do a phone call appointment with her doctor. Then with my mother, an in person appointment at the office because by now her vision in her left eye is very blurry. She could see a tree but not its branches. She can see my face but not my features. She could not do the eye chart at all. It was the first time I saw her face crumble.

The good news inspite of all this is we got in to see someone the next morning at the Eye Centre at City Hospital. We were reassured that this is treatable. It will be reversed. But there’s always a but. She has to be on antiviral drug 3x/daily for 2 weeks and then a smaller dose once/day for a month. Plus a steroid eye drop 4 times a day for a month. If you know my mother, pills are a big problem. She has so much sensitivity to everything, even tylenol if she takes more than 2/day. She always makes it sound the side effects are worse than death. And who am I to argue? She’s the one feeling them. Maybe it’s just the Chinese way. So what do I do when she complains she’s having side effects and should she keep taking the pills – on a Saturday evening during a pandemic?

Well, I did the *!#^fk twirl around the kitchen island a few times. Then I called the pharmacy at Safeway. The pharmacists there are my best friends now. He looked everything up and said those side effects are really not for that drug. Then he advised maybe I called 8-1-1 and report it. I phoned my mother to check her symptons again. She was adamant her symptoms were drug related and not virus related. Next move, page the doctor on call. She was prompt in answering and helpful with advice. Which was more important – my mother’s eyesight or the side effects? And with those symptoms it doesn’t sound like the coronavirus. It was not necessary to call 8-1-1.

That was the question I put to my mother. She is taking her pills. We got into a squabble. I lost my temper. She said I over reacted. I needed not have gone all to that length. She was just asking my opinion what to do. I reminded her that I am not a doctor. Any answer I give her could be the wrong one. She has to make a judgement about how bad those ‘side effect’ are and her vision. The good news is her vision is a little better and the pain is a little better with the antiviral. I reminded her that she could also call her other daughter, who is a pharmacist even though she is busy and there’s a pandemic.

So, I’ve laid out my anguish here. I was really feeling squeezed between a rock and a hard place. I probably shouldn’t have lost it with my mother. I’m stressed and stretched. She’s in pain and probably anxiety which she denies it. She said she is not worried and very calm. But she did yelled at me and I yelled back. But I’m still the one looking out and after her. This morning Hamlet’s ‘to be or not to be soliloquy’ was playing in my head. My wish at the moment was to be extinquished and disappear without drama and fanfare – like a firefly. It is painful to be in this world. I feel as if I’m everyone’s keeper and have no self. I guess I am a bit of a drama queen. It is not the Chinese way but it feels good to get it off my chest. I’ve never claim to be a good Chinese. I’m just flipping sad.

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.