Lisa Marie Blair

Tag: Journal

  • 301 // COVID Scares

    The mornings are feeling rather frigid now. Increasingly they are frosty too. Autumn is well underway and I know soon it’s going to start feeling like winter long before the season’s calendar changes. The colors of Autumn are just past their prime now and the once vibrant leaves are dry and drooping. There is still beauty to be seen as they flutter from the tres in a flurry on every breeze. I’m trying to find ways to love the fall.

    I woke this morning still not feeling quite like myself, but I’m a little more me than I was yesterday. There are further COVID scares at work and a coworker commenting to me on the minor outbreak confided in me that while she hope she wasn’t infected because it would disrupt operations, she kind of hoped she was because she could use the time off.

    This is what I was talking about yesterday. It’s sad we have to hope for sickness, for this particular sickness just so that we might have a little time to rest, to reflect, to recover from the overwhelm and uncertainty of these past couple of years. We’ve all joked about faking a positive result but the jokes are sounding more and more serious all the time.

    To be honest, I am scared of the rising cases and I am frustrated by the lack of transparency. I’m outraged by the relaxed rules for the vaccinated. Yes, I know that the chances of severe disease and spread are low, but almost all of us got vaccinated over 6 months ago and that means our immune response is weakening. There are breakthrough cases and some of the staff, not to mention the children, are still at risk.

    A coworker’s daughter died from a COVID infection. She was the same age as me. I suppose this is what is freaking me out. I know the chances are I would survive, but I don’t like taking the risk. I don’t like risking my loved ones’ lives either, and for what? No one can seem to come up with a good reason, but we keep going out and risking our lives and each other’s lives all the same.

  • 300 // The Bad News Too

    The good news is, whatever I have, though it’s awful and nasty, at least isn’t Covid. My results came back yesterday evening and made it all that much easier to put my well-being second and come into work. It’s also the bad news too.

    It felt good to take time away, to nurse myself, to heal in my own time. Being sick at work means pushing through, sucking it up, and prolonging it all. Part of me wishes it had been a mild Covid infection. Part of me knows it would have been easier that way. That got me thinking about how Covid—though tragic and terrifying—has no doubt been a good excuse for finally enforcing boundaries and putting ourselves first.

    The shutdowns last year were the closest I could get to my ideal life. Even when I did return to the office lowered capacity meant half days and fewer coworkers in at once. The mask mandates and social distancing rules were what introverted dreams are made of. Even now Covid symptoms, exposures, and tests mean unquestioned time away from work.

    It’s funny that sinus infections, the common cold, the flu, and many other communicable diseases are all held to such lower standards. It’s frustrating that I can protect others and care for myself if I have Covid but not if I have any other kind of sickness or infection that could present as much a risk to myself and the kids I serve. It doesn’t make sense that we haven’t been living like this all along!

    The sad reason we haven’t is simply that we’ve gotten used to one kind of risk and not another. I would argue that all bouts with sickness should be held to the same standard. Ten days away from work in quarantine to rest away from people while we are contagious. I would say I should never have come in at all today and I would say some of the guilt is on me.

    It’s on all of us who enforce such harmful norms and those of us who adhere.

    The world should be different in this and so many more ways.

  • 299 // That Old Dream

    I’m home for the second day in a row with whatever head cold I’ve been unfortunate enough to contract. I felt awful when I woke up, but as the day wore on and I slipped in and out of sleep my symptoms slowly improved throughout the day—enough even for me to commit to heading into work tomorrow!

    Of course, by now my symptoms are returning and I’m regretting all the assurances I made to my coworkers. More than regret I feel angry. Honestly, I want to be able to simply take the remainder of the week off to recover, without guilt, without all this pushing and prodding, without all the worry and shame.

    If I’m really honest, I know deep down this anger isn’t really about just this week. It’s about having to work any day at all. It’s about the loss of my days, the loss of control, and the loss of my passion.

    Don’t get me wrong, I do love my job. It’s easy, fulfilling, respectable, and sometimes even enjoyable, as far as jobs go. Over the years I have found some purpose in it and made the role critical to the long-term operation of my department. I’ve managed to muster enthusiasm for my day-to-day responsibilities but it’s never felt as satisfying as spending my days circling deeper subjects and following subtler leads around life.

    I suppose that old dream of making something of myself, for myself, from myself is feeling a bit renewed. My day job allows me to make a difference but I want to leave a more personalized mark.

    And when the time is right staying motivated and focused comes easy. Nothing has to be so forced. The right ideas, the right instincts, the right words come without having to be called forth. Time presents itself and space opens wide.

  • 298 // Home Sick and Hoping

    I went to bed last night with an awful sore throat and throughout the night declined until I found myself sleeping on the couch popping cough drops one after another in a desperate attempt to calm the irritation and get some sleep.

    Today I am staying home sick and hoping it’s not Covid so I can head back to work tomorrow morning. Not because I want to, but because I don’t want to feel bad about being home.

    I have serious doubts I’ll make it in though. For one, I have a complete loss of appetite and for two, my supervisor herself is out with Covid that began with the same symptoms I am presenting now.

    Since I was off almost all of last week, there’s no chance I was exposed to her but I was out shopping and visiting with family all over town in close contact with maskless strangers. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if the test came back positive. I’ve been far too lax about protecting myself.

    And this is why I believe in mask mandates. Of course in an ideal world, the choice would be our own. In an ideal world, we would all make the right choice too but the reality is it’s too hard for humans to change and too easy for them to change back. Our minds cannot fathom the risk and we certainly can’t hold on to alarm for long.

    Even for those of us who believe in the effectiveness and support the measures forget. Even those of us for whom the measures are made to protect forget! Humans tend toward the convenient and the comfortable and without specific and frequent reminders we lose sight of what is right.

    Still, I may not have Covid at all, but further still, my point stands. I know my immune system is both over-reactive at times, and ineffective too. I know I have to protect myself against all kinds of infection. I know that I have to protect others too. These past months I’ve done a poor job of both. It’s no wonder I’ve finally come down with something.

    Every lesson must be learned—and relearned—the hard way.

  • 287 // Carry the Burden

    This morning was hard, but not nearly as hard as last night.

    Some stories aren’t mine to share but what I can say is that having a loved one diagnosed with a severe mental illness can be confusing, frustrating, chaotic, terrifying, and, at times, traumatic. It’s hard to see someone you love hurting so, to see them carrying such a heavy burden. It’s hard not being able to do more than listen and support.

    I want to carry the burden for a while. I want to take the pain away.

    It’s hard to contend with the disturbing fact that you want to control another person and the reality that you never can. I understand the importance of autonomy and respect that this is their journey to grow through, but I can’t shake the desire to take away their choice just so I can keep them safe. Just so I can ease my hurt a little while.

    For now, for me, all isn’t right, but all is better, and some days that has to be enough. Today, it will be enough to simply survive—for all of us.

    At least there is comfort in these October clouds and my routine, though physically demanding, will be a welcome escape. I’m trying to remember there are good things happening. I just wish they didn’t feel so far away. There has been more time to call my own this week though I haven’t used it as productively as I’d hoped. It’s ok. Today is a new day and all stressors aside, I can still start again. I’ve already started here.

  • 276 // Progress Enough

    I woke later than I meant to this morning, but the start was so perfect I hardly noticed I was behind. My wife made perfect cranberry-almond scones and I’ve perfected the art of making coffee from a Moka pot. The sun was shining early and the weather warmed enough to take the dog out for a good walk.

    It has been a busy Sunday since, full of chores and to-dos. Most Sundays I struggle through, but I’m practicing being more aware of how my mind works and how easily I can find myself off task or derailed for the day. Being mindful and understanding, gentle but firm with myself, has made it easier to get through the work and find time for the things I love a lot faster. A list helps. Time limits help. Finishing each task one at a time helps.

    Resistance is a harder obstacle to overcome. I’m resistant to having to do the tasks in the first place. I feel angry whenever I have to give up time doing the things I love for things that are tiresome and uncomfortable. What’s helped there is to see everything I do as either a kind of art or as an act of service. I do things for my family. I do them for my home. I do them, ultimately, for me.

    By staying present and mindful, focusing on each task objectively, I can clean, organize, and complete my tasks thoroughly and to the best of my ability. It feels good to know I’ve done it right. It feels good to give my best to even the smallest and most mundane tasks.

    And now, it seems the Sunday blues aren’t so bad. My anxiety has come down since this time seven days ago, since there’s no way the coming week could be any harder on me than the last. I’ve been getting better at preparing for the weekdays, though I have only gotten worse at beginning them.

    I’m hoping this week I can do a little better. I’m hoping this week will see as much improvement as each before. I’m optimistic and if nothing else that can be progress enough for me.

  • 259 // Soften

    Woke up to another frigid fall morning, but all forecasts point to another scorching afternoon. I’m feeling good despite my late start and lazy bones. We’re on the downhill side of the week and the work and as we make our way to the weekend, there’s promise of more time to myself and a little space to think.

    My pocket notebook has been filling fast these past days, but my larger ones—the journal and the planner—are languishing, unloved at home. I miss the surprising insights that come from such private expression and the chance to document the days before the nightly culling of mundane facts in favor of space and efficiency.

    I keep saying to myself that I don’t have the time, but I know I do. I watched three episodes at least last night of Reservation Dogs and while the show was entertaining and certainly took my mind off the day, there is more I could have done. It’s not so much a drive to be productive, but a simple need to feel fulfilled.

    When I reflect on how I spend my time, how I eat, the things I say, and all the things I don’t do, I feel more regret than pride. I wonder, who is that person? And why can’t she do the good thing, the right thing, the hard thing? I feel out of control as if I’m made of little more than a cobbling together of cravings and reflexes. I’m troubled by how little of who I am turns out to be my choice.

    But I’d like to change. I’d like to be more aware. It starts with noticing the body. The way my physical self feels and moves. It starts with noticing my need, my hunger, my hurts. It takes slowing down and noting the position, posture, and proximity of my body to people and objects and moving toward or away with purpose.

    Some takeaways so far: 1. I tend to tense rather than relax into a slouched posture. 2. The muscles of my lower abdomen clench when I am stressed the way others might in the jaw or shoulders. 3. I hold my breath often as if I am waiting for something—or bracing for a blow—that never comes.

    Forcing the shoulders back, the spine straight, and taking a deep breath helps relax the gut and soften the disposition.

  • 258 // Peripheral

    The season is settling in. This morning felt like the coldest one yet and though the afternoon’s temperatures are still rising above 80 degrees, I think it’s time to change my wardrobe over to long pants and sleeves.

    This week continues to strain, but after today I’ll have made it halfway and the worst will be behind me. I hope that by Friday my workweek will relax and I can focus on my home and family and the next tasks and to-dos I need to tackle.

    I’m looking forward to a few days of rest next week and doing a whole lot of nothing the weekend after.

    One thing going well and my only source of fulfillment lately is reading. I’ve delved back into The Odyssey and The Body Keeps the Score.

    The former is a more recent translation than the previous version I read and I’ve had to adjust to a simpler and more relaxed telling. At first, it turned me off, but keeping in mind Emily Wilson’s reasoning for the wording she chose has helped to see the epic from her point of view and glean something new from it. It’s got me thinking about what it means to be a morally good person vs a successful and powerful person. In what ways are those two things at odds and how has the ideal version of each changed through the ages?

    As for the latter, I had to take a break. It turns out that reading about trauma and thinking about your own past without leaving time to process can leave the mind and body too engrossed in remembering and worrying to engage with others or get a good night’s sleep. I’ve learned there is a lot left to notice and to learn about myself. There is a lot left to heal and more I may miss without having ever known of the gap.

    A little time away and a chance to lose myself in physical labor has seen me back to calm and I’ve dipped my toes back in. I’m ready to slip into the shallow end, with my feet finding the bottom and the past firmly in my peripheral vision.

  • 256 // Big Courage

    The morning started out rough but slowly, slowly, the day, and my mood along with it, is improving. Much of what I felt anxious about has resolved and the rest is turning out not to be as bad as my gut felt it would be. The universe is ordered. Everything will be okay.

    The summer is subtly waning. I can feel it through to my bones. The drive to work and the drive out on the routes are getting darker day by day and the midday takes longer to warm. Each evening the chill blows in earlier and I drowsiness takes me over as the sun sets. By the next morning, the cold has crept into the house and as I struggle to pull myself from the warm bed, I wonder if it’s time yet to turn on the furnace.

    I’m thankful for the end of this past weekend and eager for the end of the next too.

    Between the many birthdays, appointments, social engagements, errands, projects, and long work hours, my wife and I are feeling absolutely exhausted, but this shared suffering is bringing us closer than ever and we’re absolutely in love too. The paradox of love. When you have all the time together you want, you want to work on other things, and when you don’t have the time, all you want is each other.

    Every day that passes brings a deep relief and increased self-worth as I accomplish again and again all that I feared I will fail. Big goals are being met and that takes big courage too. I’m grateful to find I have it in me after all.

  • 252 // Absorbed

    All year I have struggled to read through even a few pages at a time of the books marked for this year, but these past few days I’ve been completely absorbed by The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk. I suppose I have always had an affinity for these kinds of books, the ones that put into words what I have been trying my whole life through blogs and journals to describe. This book, in just the first few chapters, has given me more words than any book before.

    I’ve been on a journey to discover how exactly I survived so much and how I have been lastingly changed by both my traumas and my responses. The healing in many ways has been as lonely, confusing, and painful as the hurting, and it isn’t over yet. It isn’t ever over.

    Acceptance has gotten me far and by simple accident and incredible chance I was able to find safe people and create safe spaces to reboot and reconnect the parts of myself that were utterly obliterated. If I didn’t know better, I would believe miracles existed.

    The more I am absorbed by this reading, the more reabsorbed I become with writing. My pocket notebook is back in hand and the pages are filling with insight and hope. This little black book is now at least half-filled with fragments of perspective and reflection, and my hope has always been that these pieces will become a larger body of work one day.

    Beyond the self-discovery and the new age of healing, and my renewed ability to wordsmith, I’ve relearned that the key to reading fervently is by finding books that speak to me rather than forcing myself through books I think I should read. Finding books that you are ready for isn’t easy. You stumble upon them and through them realize you needed them. I’m revisiting the advice of Austin Kleon that I fought so hard to accept: “Quit reading books you don’t like.”

    I want to read books that I don’t like so I fight and fight and fight to finish them, but maybe putting a book down doesn’t have to mean putting it down forever. The book might not be for me today, but tomorrow? Next week? In a year? Maybe. Put down books you don’t like, but pick them back up again when you become the version of yourself that needs them.

  • 244 // That Old Enthusiasm

    We’re seeing a small drop in temperatures and we’re promised the trend will last through the end of the week. Downtime is decreased today as I’m taking on a longer route for the afternoon and spent the morning back in the dentist’s chair receiving a temporary crown.

    The procedure went well, better than the root canal for sure though still not as “painless” as they try to convince you it will be. My bite is no more comfortable and my anxiety no more eased, though I’m still grateful for the ability and opportunity to save my teeth. There are a few more that need work, but the fire is out and pain no longer dominates my day.

    I’m feeling a bit better about the rising Covid threat. The mask mandate has been reinstated for all of our students and staff, and I’m relieved. It’s nice to work for a district that believes in science and takes the health of the community it serves seriously. It’s less stressful for someone like me whose immune system is not only overactive but kept cooled by medication with a myriad of side effects. My vulnerability to Covid is in question, but I’m at ease in the workplace.

    Writing is slow going, obviously, but I assure you a paragraph or two was written. I’m proud of myself and I’m determined to keep the ideas flowing and the momentum going. My pocket notebook is close at hand and the pages are getting filled a few at a time. Every article I read, every conversation I have, every song and silence I hear is a spark.

    Something is changing. I’m finding a little of that old enthusiasm I used to feel. I’m coming into the prime of a new age. I can feel it.

  • 243 // Looking Up From Here

    The workweek is moving right along and though my jaw is still sore and my tooth still bothersome, I’m miles away from where I was just under a week ago and grateful beyond words. I’m down to a low, dull throb and that can be turned down to nearly normal with just a little Tylenol, a little ibuprofen, and a big cup of cold brew.

    The route I’ve been on has some significant challenges that at first felt small and temporary but seem to be increasing in intensity day by day. I worry about what will happen in a week’s time, or even in a month. We have an unsafe situation and it’s only going to go on getting progressively more volatile until someone is seriously hurt and chances are that someone will be me.

    I’ve had enough experience to know that you cannot wait out certain behaviors. They have to be addressed for the person in crisis, for the others involved, and for yourself. I stood my ground, advocated for my kids and it looks like I may have convinced the powers that be to make the changes needed to keep everyone safe and, just as importantly, happy.

    The rest of the afternoon is looking up from here. I have a busy day ahead, and a busy week beyond, but there is some good on the way too. I’m looking forward to tomorrow when I will finally get a proper crown on this tooth and this soreness dissipates, and beyond that, there is a nice, long four-day weekend to relax and heal in.

    The only thing keeping me down now is the lack of progress I’ve made with writing. Some of it is my fault, but a lot was out of my hands. Great strides were being made, and just as I was on my way to getting a little more organized and on the cusp of getting down to work, pain and fatigue put me off track. Now I’m stuck catching up instead of starting anew. I’ll get there, I just can’t give up. I can’t lose focus, which has been the tendency of the past. I’m determined it stay a bad habit I used to have.

  • 241 // Almost Unbearable

    This is the first moment I’ve had in days that I could sit up and think clearly enough to write anything. The short of it is I had to get an emergency root canal after a tooth I chipped many, many months ago decided to start causing problems.

    It started around lunchtime last Wednesday with a strange discomfort while chewing. By the end of the workday, the left side of my jaw was throbbing. That evening I was mixing acetaminophen with ibuprofen and trying desperately to find a dentist in network that would see me the next day.

    I made it into work the next morning, running on little more than caffeine and deep guilt. I didn’t want to leave my coworkers hanging. I didn’t want to leave the kids confused. Luckily I was was able to see a dentist that afternoon. The good news was they could save the tooth. The bad news was the pain would only get worse unless I took care of it as soon as possible and damn, were they right!

    By Friday morning, the pain was almost unbearable. I was sleeping on the couch with an ice pack on my face and fighting the impulse to pull the tooth myself. Anything would have been better than how I felt. I knew I couldn’t give the students my best care when I could barely think through the pain, so I did what I felt was best for them and for me, I stayed home.

    That afternoon I was in the endodontist chair awaiting a root canal and within an hour I was feeling…different. The pain I went in with was relieved, but I left with new pain and there was more to come. Stomach pain from the medication, headaches, soreness, and getting used to chewing and talking with the temporary filling has been hard, but with plenty of rest and a little TLC from my wife, I am slowly getting better.

  • 236 // Highest Priority

    The fatigue is hard to fight this morning. I’m trying to work, but heavy limbs and a foggy mind are making it hard. The standard workweek—8 hours a day, 5 days a week—is more than I can handle. Four days to work and three days to myself would make for a much more productive version of myself. If only, if only…

    There are days when I feel so sorry for myself. It’s hard to be so limited by sleepiness and pain so often. I’m frustrated I can’t do more. I’m angry less isn’t asked of me. I’m not built for this world and there is little of it made for people like me.

    Coffee is almost useless. All I get is a lump of bitterness in my belly threatening to rise up and ruin an already precarious time. At least the morning will fly by. I expect it to be over before I can even get my bearings. The downside is I’ll be worse off by the afternoon when I expect time to slow to a crawl just as what little energy I have wanes further.

    The good news is, that despite the tiredness and the growing task list, I feel well on top of things. The work I did yesterday revamping the lists is helping and utilizing reminders is keeping me from getting too far off track. Once I’m settled in this new routine, I’ll add timers and hopefully start making real progress again. ‘

    Today’s highest priority is getting my writing project on a list and in order so that the work can start first thing tomorrow. I’ve wasted half a year, and maybe half a lifetime too, but I never stop trying to begin again, and again, and again…