Yesterday, Tallulah and I went for a walk around Lake Merritt. We left at 8am, which apparently is excruciatingly early for a 13-year old person. The day before, she asked me if we could go for a hike. This being remarkable on many levels – not least of which the fact that she can barely tolerate my presence these days – I decided it had to happen. Then, by the time it did, she was just not that into me anymore. Ah, the difference a few short hours can make in the mother-daughter relationship. I had to coax her with avocado toast and throw in a stop for hot chocolate just to get her out of bed. And before she would peel back the covers, she wanted to know where we were going. I guess she had to weigh the destination against her comfy pillow and warm blankets. I had been researching places we could go that I wasn't already tired of and that were still open during SIP -- most of the places I thought of were closed. Then I thought of Lake Merritt, which I've loved on my walk
Sometimes, simply walking out the front door can be overwhelming. Say, like, on day #66 of Shelter in Place which also happens to be day #TooMany of a godforsaken migraine that has had me hiding in a darkened room like a gothy troll. As in: today. I haven't been outside in two days because sunlight has been so hard to take. But the love of my life has been pouring himself into our garden these days and I wanted to support him, so I ventured out cautiously to see his handiwork. I was not prepared for the many ways in which the world would bombard me. First , it was just too bright out there, and all that glorious light hurt my head and eyes. While I expected the pain, I did not expect the anger -- which I definitely felt, sharp and sudden. I was instantly furious because I love the outdoors and do not like it causing me pain and discomfort. So there I was, walking down my front path with a little bit of rage. Second , Rick has done so much work! Seeing our beautiful g
Let’s face it, we are all exhausted at this point. I call it the Coronelection Complex, and it’s hitting me hard. Texts from friends, zoom calls with family, and tweets from strangers all indicate that I’m not alone. We are a weighed upon people, are we not? One way Coronelection Complex is showing up for me is that I often feel like taking to my bed. All I want to do is go to bed early and wallow. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I stare at a blank page with a pen in my hand. Mostly I doom scroll, against all my better judgment. Very little feels like what my restless heart is actually looking for, but my bed and pillows keep calling. And when I answer that call, all I want to do is shut the rest of the world out. My family has other ideas. It’s as if my lying down in a stupor sends a radar signal throughout the house: BUG MOM. IT’S TIME TO BUG MOM. The dog gets the signal too. It doesn’t take long before beating hearts both human and canine descend on my bedroom to create mayhe
Comments