It is around 380 days into being kept under quarantine conditions here in Oregon. And It is wearing on me. I know it is weighing on everyone else. Not to undermine anyone else or do pain comparison for me it has been longer. I have a medical involved child and I have been living under these conditions almost 17 years now. The past 5 years finally there had been some corrections made in my life that helped me to get out of the house and do things with other people that can’t be done with my child in tow. And those were improving.
Things I never would admit to a soul I needed because, I am this annoyingly good at acting resilient.
When I was nine my favorite imagining of myself as a little girl happened when I played on the monkey bars. I would imagine I was the equivalent of a female Tarzan. I think it was a popular trope at some point since Sheena the Queen of the Jungle eventually came out.
I would see myself as this beautiful women caked in mud with untamed tangled hair, swinging through trees chatting to monkeys and running through the brambles talking to leopards. The feel of the tropic breezes, joking with the birds and keeping those who would destroy the wilds in line. A creature of the jungle, sleeping in beds of moss and hammocks in the trees.
I would need no one but I would help all in need. That nine year old got quieted by processes we are all aware of. But, she is still in me and through my memory of her I have found myself again, this has helped me face so many things. The feral part of me the tame part of me.
The problem is she doesn’t ever expect help, she always suspects if asks for what she wants, that is the surest way to not getting it.
I give off of an air of don’t bother, I got it. You will always get this from me. Even when I want to scream I am drowning.
I know most people are already overwhelmed with their own lives. I don’t want to be a burden on the world, I want to be a gift. I don’t want people to spend time with me out of pity but out of seeking someone fun. So, I respect boundaries. I listen when people are brushing me off. I invite people and don’t haggle or sulk when they tell me no. But I do get tired of initiating a lot.
Life keeps complicating more for me since this began and it doesn’t seem to slow. The things I can talk about is: my life is taxing when normal, the pandemic took that to a new level, tons of appliance breaks, medical issues for me, and to top it off I no longer have a kitchen. There is more I really should not talk about.
I keep smiling, and cracking jokes and listening to everyone else. I keep not talking about my stuff. I have been slipping and that becomes this double edge sword for me. When I am actually honest about how I feel about all kinds of things in the past I have lost people. Everyone. No one can really help but I do need someone to listen yet I don’t want to be Debbie Downer.
I have some huge trust issues. Not like the ones most people talk about. I don’t care if people talk behind my back or don’t include me in everything. I don’t need to be the constant focus of anyone’s life. I am quite happy with myself a lot of the time. I have had enough experience with people who say, yes, who don’t know how to say, no. So I am really careful, but the problem is people no idea how to help me.
I am still learning how to ask. In the midst of this lesson I have been struggling with for a few years, I kind of broke this week and got reminded of all the love that surrounds me.
I was dealing with frustration, not an emotion I usually dwell on. I don’t have a kitchen. It is two weeks now. There is no road map there are some weird sexist crap I am not going to go into. Friends, I get they get frustrated when I don’t tell them what is going on yet it is overwhelming what is going on.
After a day of training a new caregiver who is trying to muster her strength for the process of learning how to deal with my household and the lack of a kitchen. The amount of hand washing and water use has me and her walking miles all day in my home. When the normal caregiver came over. I was stuck in my head going over and over too many things. Trying to be grateful and my head going. No, you cried about this already and there are still more emotions.
I felt strapped into as a ride with no control. I needed to do something and get out of the house, something I could fix. My son had woke and I knew the leaves from last fall were still on my roof.
Essentially I decided at 5:30pm on a warm spring day with barely any wind I was going on the roof. Gabe, came out to hold the ladder, since the last time I did this it was a windy day and my neighbor had to rescue me, twice.
I went I on the roof. The house top felt great. I don’t know why heights make me feel good. They always have, that was why I was a gymnast when I was really young I love to climb and swing, tumble and spin in the air. I took a breath and thought of being high in the tree swinging branch to branch. Then I began to sweep, my son was worried about me getting close to edge.
My neighbor saw me on the roof and came over to ask me how I was. Poor guy. I said, “I am not great.”
He asked why and I listed everything. I mean everything from my rooftop down to my neighbor.
The thing is I was dealing with a weird emotion for me. It was anger. I don’t normally do anger. I know when I am scared and I know when I am sad. I have some justifiable reasons for anger at the moment that everyone around me reminds me it is ok to be angry. I rarely feel angry, my approach to fear becomes analysis and solutions. I weeded out shame and blame a long time ago. But I have been dealing with a situation with no solution and it has been involving malice directed at me with no provocation.
I watched my neighbor sway on his feet on the emotional weight I just let loose on him. The neighbor and Gabe started a dialogue and when he went into house he came out to his back yard. I could tell he was worried about me. Worried something would happen. He talked to me cheerfully but wouldn’t take his eyes off me.
It was a big act of what the Greeks label Philia, the love of friendship.
I finished my task continued to talk to him and my son to ease their worries. But I know I am off. The roof was needed. The new perspective and the accomplishing of something and then this amazing act of Philia. My neighbor stopping and caring helped.
I did text my neighbor the next day to thank him and acknowledge what went down. I have amazing neighbors.
I know I need to figure out how to let people know I may be resilient, but I still break and how to help me.
I apologized to my son about the emotions. He grinned wildly, told me.”Mom, you help everyone else, you listen to everyone else. You shouldn’t feel you need to hide all you pain from us. You always reach back. Remember I love you.”
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