Category: Musings

Since When Are We “Post-Covid”?

Jane 1 Comment

Update 08/01/2021

“We gotta talk about your post.” That was the text message I got from my sister-in-law: epidemiologist and kick-ass lady in general. “I think you can add to it to make it better.”

My SIL’s point, and the one which I did not clearly make in the article below, is this:

Vaccination is the solution to a post-Covid world.

Breakthrough infections are EXTREMELY rare. Vaccinated people who have died of Covid had underlying conditions.

The way we protect those who are immunocompromised and those who are too young to get vaccinated is by getting vaccinated ourselves.

So get vaccinated.

Full. Stop.

I’m adding this to the top of this article because, as my SIL pointed out, I did not say this in my post. It wasn’t clear at all. I’m going to leave the original post below so that everyone can see how sometimes I can completely miss making any kind of productive point in an article. Most of the time, that doesn’t really matter. But when it comes to public health information, it is extremely important to be clear.

I was not clear. My mistake. And I’m so glad I have such awesome readers who aren’t afraid to give me feedback. Love you, SIL.

Original Post

Am I missing something here?

More than 610,000 people have died of Covid-19 in the United States.

That’s over 110,000 lives lost since February 22nd, when the president held a memorial ceremony for the victims of Covid-19 at the White House.

This month, the number of infections has risen in more than two dozen states. The Delta variant is spreading rapidly and according to data from the Washington Post (link above), the death rate among unvaccinated people is as high as it was among the population in general last January.

So, why am I hearing and reading about a “post-covid” world?

An Inconvenient Reality

The hard truth is that this virus is still spreading, infecting and killing people. Even here in the United States, where 50% of the population has received at least one dose of vaccine.

The unvaccinated are dying–young and old.

I’ve heard people scoff and say, “They brought it on themselves”–but my stomach turns at that attitude. These are human beings, lives and families we’re talking about.

Who knows why a person hasn’t been vaccinated? Perhaps they’re under the age of 12 and cannot be vaccinated yet.

Perhaps they can’t because of autoimmune issues. Maybe they have access issues and cannot get to where they can get vaccinated.

And yes, maybe some are refusing to get vaccinated because of misguided beliefs. But they’re still people, fellow citizens and human beings, and their deaths are just as tragic as those that went before them.

Living in a Bubble

We’ve “opened up” in our area, with masks no longer mandated and capacity limits lifted in restaurants and other venues. As of yesterday, our county has a 54.2% vaccination rate.

Some establishments still require masks when indoors, but the vast majority of people are going around maskless, including young, unvaccinated kids.

My worry is what will happen if and when this bubble bursts.

Breakthrough infections DO happen, and vaccinated people have died of Covid-19. Admittedly, most vaccinated people who have ended up hospitalized with Covid-19 have had severe underlying conditions, but still.

The fact remains that vaccines do not always protect from infection (they are effective in preventing severe illness and death, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get infected).

And once you are infected, data show that you can still pass it on to those around you.

Why I’m Still Masking

Yes, the probability of my getting infected is low.

And if I get infected, the probability of my passing on the infection to my unvaccinated children is very low.

But I don’t care if the chances are one in 1,000,000. As long as there is a chance of that happening, I will wear a mask.

And I will have my children wear masks.

Come the school year, they may be the only ones wearing masks in their classes (though somehow I doubt that). But at this point I consider wearing a mask much like wearing a helmet on a bicycle. I don’t care if your friends don’t do it.

You will.

And so will I.

I Get Some Looks

People look at me funny now when I have my mask on indoors. They may think I’m an anti-vaxxer who has refused to get the shot.

Or perhaps they think I’m being obnoxious and making a political statement.

You may think so, but honestly my wearing a mask is not intended to be a political statement. My thinking goes like this:

I’ve just been traveling internationally (to a country the State Department and the CDC agree is a hotbed for the Delta variant).

Wouldn’t it stink if I unwittingly got infected (remember: getting infected is not the same as getting sick with Covid!) and passed it on to you?

And wouldn’t it stink if you were one of those 5% of people whose vaccine doesn’t successfully protect against severe illness?

Wouldn’t that stink?

I Can Handle Looks

Yes, the likelihood is low. Yet it still exists.

So glare away. I’m going to keep masking for now. At least until both our children are fully vaccinated. And maybe longer. We’ll see.

I invite you to join me.

Let’s put up with a little inconvenience and discomfort for now, in order to better enjoy that Post-Covid world when it really comes.

Image source

Yarn-stores-in-montreal

Impulse Purchase & Ensuing Guilt

Jane Leave a comment

I *like* to think I’m not a big spender.

I don’t enjoy shopping. Whether it’s for clothes, food, or even books, I’m just not that into it.

However, as I’ve moved further into the knitting world, one form of shopping has become more of a pleasure than a chore.

That is: yarn shopping!

What is it about Yarn?

Yarn is so full of possibilities.

An unwound hank of yarn, twisted into a skein, sparks the imagination. Whether it’s the color or the texture, with just a little creative thinking, it can become a luxurious cabled sweater, a drapey shawl, or a cozy hat.

The thing is, I’m not talking about just any kind of yarn.

The Kind of Yarn Matters

When I first learned to crochet, I would use whatever yarn was available and affordable. Mostly, that was 100% acrylic yarn.

Acrylic yarn has its uses and I don’t want to knock it. But when we were living in Montreal, I joined a Stitch n’ Bitch knitting group.

Through the Stitch n’ Bitch ladies, I succumbed to the love of fine yarns.

Merino, silk, alpaca, mohair, cashmere, donegal tweed, yak, camel…

Once you knit with these (or a combination of any of them!), you’re done. It’s really hard to go back once you get used to the feeling of these yarns in your hands.

How Temptation Arose

You guys know I knit a lot. I really like it. As I’ve written here before, it’s a big part of my mental health regime.

I usually buy yarn with a specific project in mind. It’s true that I don’t always end up knitting what I had planned with the yarn, but that’s beside the point.

It’s not like the yarn is going to go to waste! But it’s true that I have accumulated a healthy stash of nice yarns.

While we were on vacation, I finished my “dotted rays” shawl by Stephen West. Foolishly, I had not considered the possibility that I would actually finish it, and failed to plan for another travel project.

What to do??

At home, I have patterns. At home, I have yarns for those patterns.

Unwisely, I made my way to the internet, where luxurious yarns are readily available for purchase.

Any yarn I ordered online would not be available to me until I got home!

And yet, I ordered it.

Hence, my guilt.

Why I Feel Guilty

Partially, it’s the the fact that I already had plenty of yarn.

But it’s also an insidious phenomenon that many people (especially women) suffer from: namely, feeling guilty for spending money on something that is purely for pleasure.

It’s ironic: so much of what is marketed to us involves pleasure. Food that tastes good, amazing vacation destinations for travel, etc.

But when you think about it, most of what is marketed to women as “pleasure products” are self-care products like soaps, shampoos, spas, manicures, makeup…

All things to make ourselves look more appealing to others (read: men).

When women choose to spend money on anything that isn’t for our families, or to make us more attractive to the men in our lives, we are taught to be ashamed.

We can even feel guilty for purchasing books, for goodness sake!

Swallow the Guilt

Unless you are spending money you cannot afford to, I say: swallow the guilt.

We need to get over it. As long as our spending isn’t irresponsible, why should we feel any guilt on the score?

Okay, so admittedly I probably should not have made the purchase I did. I didn’t need the yarn, it wasn’t cheap, and I had other projects ready.

But I will not beat myself up for giving into temptation and indulging in an impulse purchase.

(Really! I won’t! Or at least I’ll try not to…)

What Are Your Impulse Purchases Like?

What do you spend money on and then feel slightly guilty about later? What are your indulgences?

I want to know I’m not alone!

Quitting Facebook

Jane 4 Comments

I’ve written about this before. Many times.

Even a short period of time spent on Facebook leaves me feeling at best lethargic, at worst angry.

I haven’t been writing much on the blog lately, and that reflects in the amount of time I (haven’t) spent on Facebook. I only really go on to post my blog articles anyway.

After being off it for so long, I felt absolutely no desire to go back on. Maybe that’s part of why I haven’t been writing much on here. I didn’t want to feel like I had to go back on Facebook to share my articles.

Back on Facebook for a Visit

Yesterday, I published a blog article. My blog automatically posts to my “thebraininjane” Facebook page, but I need to actually go write a post on my own profile in order to share my articles there.

With some trepidation, I opened Facebook in my browser.

The first thing that I saw was that I had dozens of notifications. The little red notification icon with the number in it is just irresistible. I clicked on it.

Immediately I saw updates from friends, mentions of me in comments on posts I was clueless about, and all kinds of other things I had been perfectly happy not knowing about.

Almost Down the Rabbit Hole

Before I knew it, I had been ten minutes getting myself up to speed on a thread I had commented on weeks before and lost track of.

I hadn’t even seen the time go by! I had only wanted to post my article and leave!

I yanked myself out of the rabbit hole and quickly marked all notifications as “read”. I shared the link to my article, and closed the window in my browser.

Then I sent a text message to my sister-in-law (dear friend and beloved recipient of the Weekender sweater). I told her how I’d nearly gone down the rabbit hole.

Her response was pretty much perfect: “Facebook is not for me.”

Wow.

How simple. How uncomplicated! How true! HOW LIBERATING!

What To Do Now?

It became clear to me then and there that I want to delete my Facebook account.

And not just “deactivate”. No no no, I want to actually delete my account. I don’t want Facebook retaining information about me.

(Yes, yes, I know Facebook has my information on Whatsapp and Instagram, and don’t even get started on how much Google knows about me. Baby steps, people!)

My first step was to google (I know) “how to delete my Facebook account”. The first result was this C-Net article, published only a few days ago, which gives helpful step-by-step instructions.

Let People Know

One of the only things that I like about using Facebook is Messenger. I haven’t had the Facebook app on my phone or tablet for nearly four years now, but I have kept the Messenger app. I think that’s been one of my main reasons for keeping my account: having that ability to write to a Facebook contact if I want to.

The C-Net article recommends posting a status update a few days before deleting your account by way of an announcement. Let people know you’re closing your account and ask them to send you other contact info by Messenger.

Let this post serve as my notification: I’M QUITTING FACEBOOK!

Send me your contact deets, folks. I’ll actually create a contact for you in my address book! Imagine that!

What I’ll Miss

As a hopeless extrovert, I will miss the possibility of getting in touch with people from my past out of the blue. It’s nice to think of a person, remember them for some reason, and write them a little note to say you’re thinking of them. I’ll miss that.

I’ll also miss the local stitch n’ bitch group. There’s something about crafty people who knit and crochet that makes them some of the craziest, zaniest and most entertaining people around. The group will continue to meet, and though I may miss out on things online, I definitely won’t miss out when we meet in person again.

Finally, it’s true that there are lots of really fun and interesting Facebook groups out there. I’ve enjoyed my local Buy Nothing group tremendously. I worry that cutting myself off from Facebook will also mean cutting myself off from groups like these.

Maybe it will. But maybe that’s okay? We’ll see.

Quitting Facebook Feels Scary

Maybe it’s FOMO, maybe it’s because I’m such an extrovert. But the idea of quitting Facebook feels scary. Though I spend maybe 10 minutes out of every two weeks on the platform now, its just being there as an option feels reassuring.

But everyone I know who has taken this step has not regretted it. They’ve never looked back.

It seems that slowly weaning ourselves off of social media is, dare I say it, healthy? Perhaps it’s because social media is so hard to do in moderation. You’re either not on, or your doom scrolling.

Between the two, I’d rather be off it altogether.

I’ll keep you posted!

Take A Hike!

Jane 2 Comments

It must have been obvious that I was not doing well.

So obvious, in fact, that my mother’s dear friend and my stand-in godmother (who also takes on role of great auntie and sometimes even grandmother in her friend’s place) informed me that she was coming to watch the boys on Wednesday afternoon and that I should leave the house.

She didn’t offer to watch the boys. No. She informed me she was going to watch the boys.

Alrighty, then! I’ll leave!

But where to go?

In the Before Times I’d have booked a massage, or perhaps an afternoon sewing lesson at a local fabric store. Maybe a mani-pedi or a visit to the hairdresser.

But in Covid Times (despite being vaccinated), either these activities are unavailable or seem unsafe.

So instead, I checked the weather report and then wrote to a friend.

“I know you’re working and you have responsibilities and everything, but I’m not okay and my godmother is watching the kids tomorrow and do you want to go on a hike with me?”

The response was swift and encouraging: I’ll make it work.

Outdoor Escape

That’s how I found myself in the car headed west on a mid-week afternoon (on St. Patrick’s Day, no less!).

I’d gone on AllTrails and found a lovely-looking hike within reasonable distance of home. I packed my hiking backpack with water, a first-aid kit, my knitting, two hunks of cheese and a Swiss army knife, grabbed my walking sticks and my mother’s old hiking boots and hopped in the car.

We met at Sky Meadows state park, a lovely park with several trail routes. After encountering a brood of chickens zealously guarding the restrooms, we struck north and tackled a 4.4 mile loop with gusto.

The first part of the hike was the hardest, but the view was worth it. As we stood at the top of a very steep hill, winded and sweaty after just 10 minutes of hiking, I thought to myself, “This was a wonderful idea.”

So Grateful

That hike in excellent company (and the delicious meal that followed!) was exactly what the doctor ordered.

So many things can crowd together to fog my mind and put me in a funk. Tedium, boredom, loneliness, feelings of inadequacy… We all have these feelings sometimes.

What we don’t all have, and what I am privileged to enjoy, are resources and opportunities.

Resources like the wonderful people who support me: my husband, my mother’s best friend, my own friends, family. Opportunities like being able to take a hike mid-week.

For these, and for so much more, I am very grateful. I hope to never take the people and the circumstances that surround me for granted.

If You’re Feeling Blue

You’re not alone. Though trust me, I know it feels like it. Depression sinks us further into isolation, which is a scary side-effect of social distancing.

If you or someone you love is suicidal, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255.

The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (or SAMHSA–I know, catchy, right?) also offers a 24/7 hotline for free treatment referral and information: 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

There are lots of online resources like Better Help and others. I have no personal experience with these and don’t know how they work. Many of them are for-profit companies, so be aware of that.

If you have a family doctor, you can also reach out for tele-health appointments and referrals.

You can also write to a friend, or call. If you’re reading this and you want to talk, just drop me a line or give me a call. My friend rearranged her work day to take a hike with me. That’s what friends do. I’ll do the same for you.

Photo credit: Brittany Baker on AllTrails.com

One Year On

Jane Leave a comment

One year, folks. One year since things went nuts.

On March 6th 2020, Chico flew back to the United States from Spain, and on March 14th Trump banned flights from many European countries (including Spain!).

The fact that Chico has been with us through this pandemic has been one of the small miracles I’ve witnessed over the last year.

There have been a few others.

The Power of a Gifted Teacher

We are lucky to live in a privileged school district, where each child was issued a Chromebook. We are also lucky to have reliable internet connection.

And we are extremely lucky that for kindergarten the Bug was assigned to one of the finest teachers I have ever encountered. A woman of great patience, kindness, but firmness, with a sense of humor to boot.

Mrs. B has reached through the computer screen and ignited the Bug’s love of learning. I consider that a miracle. And the miracle of Mrs. B’s gift has had such a big impact on our family.

He’s logged on to school each day with joy and anticipation, and not once has he complained about it. Miracle.

The Dedication of a Team of Strangers

I signed up to volunteer with the local medical reserve corps last spring. I felt powerless in the face of the pandemic and wanted to help.

From the first time I volunteered, I was struck by how well organized, how proactive and how coordinated everything and everyone was. It seemed to me like all the other volunteers were pros who had been doing this forever.

It turns out, a large number of them were first-time volunteers like me. But like me, they were of a mindset that they were there simply to be useful.

It speaks to how well the organizers from the health department do their jobs, because the MRC here runs like a well-oiled machine.

We currently vaccinate between 1,800 and 2,800 people a day at the county vaccination site. That entire operation is staffed solely by volunteers.

That volunteer army is a miracle.

How Children Adapt to the New Normal

The first time I went to the grocery store wearing a face mask, I nearly had a panic attack.

It was so strange, so frightening and so new to me that I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it.

Ha! Shows what I know! Now I feel weird NOT wearing a mask!

When the kids first had to wear masks, it was a struggle. They complained and fussed, and kept pulling them off their faces. By the second time, they were more resigned. By the third time it was as if they’d been wearing them all their lives.

Now, when we leave the house, they put on their masks like champs. It’s the new normal for them, and they shrug and put them on, just like they put on sunglasses on sunny days and hats on cold ones. No biggie.

Not having to argue about mask wearing every time we go out? Definitely a miracle.

A Shoutout to Librarians

The last little miracle I’ve witnessed is the wonderful dedication of people who love their jobs, and do them well.

Specifically, librarians.

They are a rare and wonderful breed, and they enrich our lives in so many small ways. Every Monday, we go to our local library, and there we encounter the ways librarians show the community their love.

They’re small: A carefully chosen display of books and references on this month’s theme (March is national crafting month!). A printed flyer with a list of read-aloud chapter book recommendations for children ages six to nine. The weekly craft, all neatly packed in a brown paper bag, ready for us to take home (this week we’re growing zinnias!).

The joy the boys feel when they pick up their weekly crafts, and then settle in to browse the bookshelves… That joy is a gift from the librarians.

And it is no small miracle.

Thank You, Miracle Workers

Thank you to the teachers, the volunteers and the librarians. Thank you for the miracles you work every day.

Bright Spots

Jane 1 Comment

Today on our local NPR station, we were invited to send in our voice messages about our “bright spots” during this pandemic.

That got me thinking. What are my bright spots?

1. Baking with the Boys

Yeah, I’m trying to lose weight (it’s still going alright, though somewhat stalled).

But baking with the boys is so much fun! We’ve made scones, all kinds of cookies (chocolate chip, sables, New Zealand afghan biscuits, etc.), Irish soda bread, pies, tarts, cranberry upside-down cake, muffins…

Today, we made one of my absolute favorites yet: a blueberry “plain cake” by Dorie Greenspan.

OH. MY. LORD. This cake is SO GOOD.

The secret is beating the egg whites until stiff and gently folding them in. The boys were fascinated with this process.

(Though admittedly they’re usually in it to lick the beaters and bowls.)

The cake is now sitting on our counter, and I can hear its siren call…

2. FaceTime with Family & Friends

Another bright spot has been talking on FaceTime, Skype, WhatsApp video, Houseparty, or WHATEVER… with family and friends.

Today, I spoke with my godparents over FaceTime. Seeing their smiling (and HEALTHY!!) faces was a delight (though I was a bit frazzled by the boys–sorry about that!).

I’ve been on Zoom with friends from my master’s program in the UK, girlfriends across the world in NZ and Australia, and family in Europe & the States.

It’s true that as this has stretched on, the novelty has worn off and there have been fewer digital happy hours. But they still happen, and when they do, they’re certainly a bright spot.

3. Reading as a Family

Reading alone and as a family has been one of the biggest bright spots.

We read a lot before the pandemic too, don’t get me wrong. But in the fall of 2019, we started reading chapter books with the Bug.

We got ourselves a copy of The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease, and using that and Goodreads, we’ve built a reading list for the Bug.

Since starting down that path, we have never looked back. The Bug is now an independent reader, and picks his own books at the library each week.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to be read to, though. He loves sharing the joy of reading, and a huge part of our stuck-at-home routine has been reading out loud together.

Not just before bed, but all throughout the day. I’ll read to them while they eat their ridiculously early lunch. I’ll read when they need to wind down. We’ll hunt for all the books we have on a certain theme (“snow,” “pets,” “summer,” etc.).

In fact, both the boys love reading so much that we launched a little YouTube project: Stories with Sammy (the Bear). Mostly I read the stories, but Felix also reads for us. The latest video is actually Sammy reading!

How can this not be a bright spot?!?

What Are Your Bright Spots?

I realize I am so lucky to have these bright spots. So many people have none.

What are your bright spots? What little moments, no matter how tiny, help you get through as this pandemic drags on?

Thinking of them helps. And hopefully looking for them will bring more.

Craftivism & Gentle Protest

Jane Leave a comment

I’m currently reading a book by Sarah Corbett of the Craftivist Collective.

The Craftivist Collective, founded by Corbett, is

“an inclusive group of people committed to using thoughtful, beautiful crafted works to help themselves and encourage others be the positive change they wish to see in the world.”

https://craftivist-collective.com/our-story/

In her book How to be a Craftivist: The art of gentle protest, Corbett walks through definitions of craft (noun, verb and metaphor), activism (“the policy or action of using vigorous campaigning to bring about political or social change”), and how to marry the two into craftivism.

In 2003, Betsey Greer coined the word craftivism and defined it as

“…a way of looking at life where voicing opinions through creativity makes your voice stronger, your compassion deeper & your quest for justice more infinite.”

https://craftivism.com/definition/

Gentle Protest

What I love about Corbett’s book is her focus on gentle protest.

By her definition, gentle protest is not passive or weak, but instead it is kind, empathetic, supportive, compassionate and thoughtful.

Much of the book emphasizes the importance of doing your research: not just on the issue that you are tackling, but also truly getting to know the people you are trying to reach out to.

Corbett’s method of protesting is revolutionary because it puts the focus not on anger (though a measure of anger is needed to spark action), but on positive relationship-building.

She writes that instead of being enemies to those we disagree with, we should be “critical friends.”

How I Can Use Craftivism

I’m not going to do a full write-up of the book here. It’s easy enough to get a hold of a copy if you’re interested, or poke around more on the Craftivist Collective website.

But reading this book, a couple of ideas have struck me about how I can use craftivism to try and make small positive changes in our neighborhood.

Starting with some new neighbors we have.

We live in a townhouse, tightly sandwiched between our neighbors. The walls are about as thin as cardboard, and we hear a lot of what goes on next door (as do, I imagine, our neighbors!).

The house immediately next to ours on one side is a rental property, and we have already seen three different tenants come and go. The owner does the bare minimum to keep the house up and has proved himself to be a terrible landlord to previous tenants.

The current renters don’t seem to care too much about the state of the house. They’re a group of truck drivers who share the rent (probably against zoning laws…) and use the place as a crash pad. They didn’t even move furniture in for a couple of weeks!

Needless to say, these are not ideal neighbors for a family with small children. The first encounter we had with them was to ask them firmly but politely not to throw their cigarette butts in the shared public spaces. We’ve had to ask them to quiet down numerous times, including last night when they woke us up at 1am because they were out on their back terrace smoking and laughing.

There is definitely tension between us, and it makes for passive-aggressive behavior like loud music late at night and carelessly slamming doors.

Inspired by Craftivism

Corbett writes how the unexpectedly friendly nature of craftivism is part of its efficacy. Its basis in kindness and empathy disarms people and opens up avenues of positive, constructive interaction.

So I figured, why not try a similar approach with these neighbors?

Instead of allowing tension to build, why not adopt Corbett’s approach to try and difuse it?

After all, there is nothing we can do about these neighbors. We can’t get them evicted, and we don’t want to keep treading on each other’s toes.

I may not incorporate cross-stitching or knitting, but my idea was as simple as baking a batch of cookies and putting it in a tin with a nice hand-written note with the following quote:

“No one is rich enough to do without a neighbor.”

Danish Proverb

Starting Small

I may give this a try. I’ll let you know how it goes.

If it goes well, I have a further idea of how to use craftivism to tackle a problem in our neighborhood: littering.

I’ll keep you posted.

Compulsive Phone Checking

Jane Leave a comment

You want to see something freaky?

Go into your settings and look at your screen time report.

Earlier this year I finally turned off my screen time report notification when it kept telling me that my average weekly screen time was creeping up.

I looked at it today for the first time in a while, and it’s at 1 hour and 28 minutes per day on average. That’s down 29% from last week!

The truth is, picking up my smartphone has become almost a compulsive behavior.

Put Into Perspective

Let’s be generous and say I sleep eight hours a night. That gives us 16 waking hours left per day.

If, on average, I’m spending 1.5 hours per day on my phone, that leaves me 14 and 1/2 hours left in my day.

That doesn’t sound too bad.

But when I compare that to the time I spend doing my hobbies, that’s when it starts to seem like a lot.

  • Reading: I definitely don’t read 1.5 hours a day.
  • Knitting: if I knitted that long every day I’d have serious shoulder pains!
  • Writing: nope.
  • Exercising: it’s about 30 minutes every other day.
  • Playing piano: I play for max. ten minutes if I’m lucky.

And remember: 1.5 hours is down 29% from last week! What was I DOING last week??

Checking the Phone Compulsively

I wake up, I check my phone. (The first pickup today was at 7:35am.)

My phone lives in my back pocket or sits next to me on the counter. It follows me upstairs, downstairs, outside… To the bathroom…

(Don’t tell me you don’t do it!)

Any change in pace or activity, any lull and I whip it out.

Mostly I’m on WhatsApp and Instagram. On WhatsApp I’m at least interacting with family and friends.

But on Instagram, it’s just mindless scrolling. I shoot past post after post, pausing occasionally to unmute and watch a video, or to like something.

The worst part is, though, that I’ve clicked on some Instagram ads. And have even bought off of Instagram ads!

Each time it happens I get SO ANNOYED with myself! I’m behaving exactly as Mark Zuckerberg wants me to and making him money with each stupid purchase.

Gah! Damn the man!

Why the Compulsive Checking?

I’ve been wondering about this. What is causing me to constantly reach for my phone?

Why am I mindlessly scrolling? Checking for messages I know have not come? Looking for likes when I haven’t posted anything?

What does it give me? Is it escapism? Am I doing it out of boredom?

Maybe it’s just become a habit, like twirling my hair. It certainly feels that mindless most of the time.

Looking for Contact?

Or is it that I’m desperately looking for contact?

I’d have to delve a little deeper into my screen time data to see if the pandemic has had much of an impact on my phone use.

Since we’re not seeing much of anyone, the phone is my only point of contact with anyone outside my household.

Perhaps this compulsive phone checking is simply an expression of loneliness.

What To Do?

1 .Forgive myself:

It’s okay to be desperate for contact in these socially distanced times. I think we can all relate to that.

2. Set some ground rules for phone use:

Not at the table. Not when I’m spending time with my Chico or the kids. Never in the car. Leave it downstairs at bedtime.

3. Delete Instagram:

I’ve done this before, and it was good. I still used my phone a lot for WhatsApp and other messaging apps, but at least I stopped the mindless scrolling (and stupid purchases. Damn you, Mark Zuckerberg!).

4. Wear my watch:

One of the biggest reasons I pick up my phone is to look at the time. Wearing a watch precludes that necessity.

5. Forgive myself again:

Don’t get mad at myself for failing to do any or all of the above. Even being more aware of my compulsive phone checking is a positive step forward.

The Slough of Despond

Jane Leave a comment

The Swamp of Despair. The Pit of Gloom. The Dismal Abyss.

You get the idea, yes?

John Bunyan’s Slough of Despond was a place where his protagonist (a rather obviously named “Christian”) wallowed in the weight of his sins and his sense of guilt.

My personal Slough is more to do with my feelings of failure.

What Brings It On

It’s hard to say what brings on these episodes. I find myself sinking into a gloom, as if the weight of something is sitting on my chest.

The smallest tasks become overwhelming. The slightest things become major irritants.

It’s a debilitatingly contradictory combination of numbness and hyper-sensitivity. It fixes me in a gloomy funk and can last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, or in extreme cases, a few weeks or even months.

Focusing on Failures

This gloomy mood happens to all of us. Many people are feeling it more with the isolation that the pandemic has brought.

When it descends on me I tend to focus on my perceived failures. Which particular failures change from spell to spell.

This time my brain seems fixated on how I have failed to be as well-informed, well-read, thoughtful, spiritual, generous with my time as…

My Mother.

This is not a new way I have devised to punish myself. I’ve compared myself to her often enough in the past.

The comparison has also been made by others, and often times the expectation for me to be like her is very real. I’ve been told of it outright.

It’s unfair. It’s unfair for me to do this to myself. It’s also unfair for others to do it to me.

My mother was an extraordinary woman. There is no doubt about that.

I am also extraordinary in my own way. I’m a woman of remarkable abilities. However…

I am not my mother.

I’m not even all that much like her. I think that’s part of why we got along so well.

While she was alive, I felt no pressure to be like her (at least not from her). We shared the joy of our mutual love, our admiration and our capacity to push each other out of our different comfort zones.

Since her death, however, both I and others seem to have transferred a lot of what she was to me.

A spiritual mentor of hers writing to me as he would have to her. A friend of hers expecting me to share all my mother’s knowledge of literature. A family member expressing dismay that I do not take the same joy from cooking as my mother did.

And then there are my own feelings of failure at not being such an active participant in my community as she was in hers.

The list goes on.

Gloom or Grief?

It’s almost as if I knew better who I was and what my place was before my mother died.

Losing her, I have lost some of my sense of self.

It’s hard to say if what I’m feeling is a “depressive episode” or simply grief. More than three years on, it can still sneak up on me.

I miss her. I also miss who she helped me to be.

A Farewell to 2020

Jane Leave a comment

I came across this clip on Instagram:

npr.org

I watched it repeatedly. I cried as I did. I defy you not to shed tears when you watch it.

As Much As I’d Love To Forget…

Forgetting this year would be too easy. And extremely dangerous.

To forget this year would dishonor the memory of the over 343,000 Americans who have lost their lives to Covid-19.

If we forget, we brush aside those who have survived but suffered through this pandemic.

Forgetting would trample on the memory of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and many, many more who were killed by police brutality this year.

We cannot forget the lessons and the reckonings of 2020.

If we do, what will happen the next time a global pandemic strikes? Will we be just as unprepared as we were in March of 2020? The idea of that terrifies me.

We Also Shouldn’t Forget the Joy

Amid the bleakness, the anxiety and the isolation, there have also been moments of joy.

These are usually small and very personal. Collective joy has been noticeably scarce.

Personal moments of joy for us this year have included:

  1. The Bug learning to read and becoming an independent reader.
  2. The Bear learning to ride his bike and taking joy in riding with us.
  3. The Chico’s slow progress in his immigration status (though admittedly this has also sometimes been a source of frustration).
  4. My rediscovering the piano and taking the time to practice.

What Joy has 2020 Brought You?

It doesn’t matter how short the list is. Try and make one. It just might help you feel a little better about this past year.

Happy New Year. I hope 2021 brings us all peace, joy and collective healing.