Sick Day Energy

 I have been home with a bug (norovirus?) for days now, and I'm really frustrated by it. Every time I think I'm better my body lets me know - nope, not there yet. Yesterday a friend brought dinner, a delicious looking home made soup, and my whole being recoiled at the idea of real food. I've been surviving on bread and bananas. Yesterday I had a sandwich (cheese on bread equals sandwich, right?) and so I thought I was on the mend, but anything with even a hint of flavor just turns my stomach upside down. The things that usually give me comfort - spices like cinnamon, or curry, or garlic - sound repulsive, and my energy levels are trash. I'm sitting here now with a rolling stomach, sipping on ginger tea (which I do not enjoy but is supposed to help).

So here I am, feeling guilty about missing work, but also glad that I'm not spreading it to my students and colleagues.

Last night I had therapy (online), a habit I picked up a few years back and gratefully rely upon now. I told my therapist (who is really quite amazing) that I feel like my sickness is more than just a bug, that it's a general dis-ease with the world, a weariness about how things are going. I can't look away from the wildfires in LA, or the state of US politics, or the school funding crisis, or climate change, or microplastics in the water, or, well, you get the idea. It often seems like the world is quite literally on fire, and I am exhausted by it all, and I feel like my body has joined the pain party.

Now, don't get me wrong. I still find delight in the world, and in my life. This isn't depression, and sickness aside, I'm still functioning. Work, friends, home, Tessa... there is a lot to be grateful for.

But I'm not right. The world isn't right. There is sickness in the air, and I don't like it.

I told my therapist all of this. I told her that the compliment I get the most is "you have such great energy!" (from strangers and friends alike - they do not compliment my wit, beauty, or sense of humor - ha! - but instead it's the same thing every time, about energy) but right now, my energy feels off, missing, broken in some way. My therapist asked me if I could feel it in my body, and I said... wait, yes! It's in the middle of my chest, and it's the size of an apple, and it's tight and really cold.

This is true, though strange. I feel like a surgeon could open me up and see it there, all my dis-ease, discomfort of the world, a ball of dark discomfort that is round and hard and taut. I can point to it, describe the size and shape of it, somewhere between my "breasts" (thanks, cancer) and under my sternum.

My therapist smiled, and said, "ahhh, somatics" and told me to place my hands over the spot, and to sit with it like it was a crying child, murmering "there there" and "I'm here" and "I see you."

My therapist and I go back eight years on and off, and I trust her, so though this made no sense to me whatsoever, I tried, I put my hands on top of one another over the spot, and thought the words. "Shhhh... I am here...." as if the thing inside me was a fussy baby in need of comforting.

Since I've been sick, I've been freezing cold, wearing way too many layers and covering myself with blankets and turning up the heat in the house but not able to shake the chill. My cold hands on top of the cold knot first felt... cold. But as my therapist talked me through the exercise, I felt a warm glow in my palms, shining into my chest, heat building. My eyes snapped open - what WAS that? - not in concern, but in surprise. My fingertips were still cold to the touch, but my palms were suddenly hot! Like, glowing with heat hot, like the kind of heat from holding a hot mug of tea.

"Ahh, that's the energy exchange, she said, smiling and nodding. 

"I feel like I'm getting reiki..." I responded uncertainly, looking at my hot hands, turning them over to see what had changed, and she said, "Yes, that's what it is."

Self-reiki? I didn't even know that was a thing. (Cue up the Googling.)

We talked more about the things I'm struggling with an how they all seem to gather in this knot in my chest, and how I feel like something's missing, and how I just feel like something is broken and I WANT TO FIX IT.

She smiled at me, and said, "No, you are in your mind. Be patient, and just sit with it. This is not a time of action, this is a time of rest. Just... be. Let the energy move. Hold it."

Just as a crying child cannot be logically convinced to calm down, we cannot intellectualize our dis-ease all the way. We need to sit with it, and give it a chance to speak its truth, and to let it gently fade, a child crying itself to sleep in our arms. As she said, "Let it shrink, and soften."

Not disappear. Soften.

I don't know if my stomach bug is related to my feelings of dis-ease lately - norovirus is not, of course, directly related to Donald Trump or wildfires - but I do feel strongly that when I'm in a state of dis-ease I'm more susceptible to illness, my immune system worn down.

I want to use action to get out of this feeling, to do some magic exercise that will make me feel better. "Give me homework!" I pleaded of my therapist when we first started working together. "I know what's wrong and I'm willing to do the work to fix it!" and sometimes she gives me exercises to try that have, as it turns out, been incredibly helpful.

This time, she said, "No homework. Just sit with it. Put your hands over the place where you are carrying it, and just be." I told her about all of my worries, about the things flying around in my brain - things we've talked about in the past, mostly - and she reminded me of the voices of internal family systems (IFS) and how they are there to protect me, but sometimes they don't know how to do that and their voices do not help, so she said, "Get out of your mind this time. Sit with the root of it. Just listen, and acknowledge. No responding, no fixing, just being."

So here I am, in my pajamas and bathrobe, sitting with it.

I struggle with the idea that everything happens for a reason - there are too many terrible things that happen to good people for me to feel even remotely happy about that idea. (Starving children? War? How can these things be for good reasons?) And yet... I can't entirely let it go.

One of the worst things to ever happen to me was cancer. But I am 100% convinced that if I hadn't had cancer, I would have stayed in my really bad marriage, and I never would have become the person I am meant to be. (I'm still working on it, but I've made progress.) The thing that nearly killed me is also the thing that gave me new life. I would REALLY like to figure out how to get the lessons without the near death experiences... but in my life it hasn't worked that way. And also divorce is one of the worst things that happened to me, but if I hadn't had my marriage, I wouldn't have Tessa, and I wouldn't be who I am now. If I hadn't married the person I married, I would not be in West Seattle (it was his dream location, not mine, although I fell in love with it and made it my home, and ironically he left as soon as Tessa graduated from high school). Many of my friends grew out of my location in West Seattle, and my love of this house - like it is a person, a true friend, and not an inanimate structure - only happened the way they did because I married someone not good for me, and because I got cancer I learned that I had the strength to leave him and create this new life. Out of the things that hurt the most, the most incredible healing of things beyond those things.

I have no idea why I had cancer and it turned out okay, and friends with cancer died. I have no words for that. I don't understand, because they wanted to live, too, and they deserved to live. Where is their lesson, after death? It's grossly unfair and so confusing.

But... I can't let it go, that my life is unfolding mostly as it is meant to, that all this pain is for some purpose, and that my dis-ease is actually my body just waking me up, and that if I listen carefully enough my sick day energy can teach me something, can heal something before it dissipates and my belly returns to normal.

Maybe I needed to rest, and this is my body's way of forcing that.

Maybe there is a lesson, still uncovered, that this will teach me.

Maybe this is a warning that I need to heed (about what?).

Maybe it's connected.

(Side note, I have a phone addiction like everyone else. Writing these words, I felt stuck... unsure of myself and what I was trying to say, so I picked up my phone out of habit, a distraction and soothing device. I opened the lock screen to the NY Times app I'd last been using, and found it blank. I got a blank screen: "There has been a problem. Close and try again later." Uhhhh... okay?! Maybe, um, it is all connected? I know there is no ACTUAL soothing to be found in my phone.)

So: I'm trying to figure out my own energy, to sit with it, and not try to hide it. I'm drinking gallons of tea (even though I don't like ginger tea's taste, it does seem to help), I'm turning to the page, and I'm going to bed early (like 8pm early....what?!) while I let this pass through me.

Sometimes, pausing, and sitting, and just being, is all we can do.

I feel like our nation is sick. LA is burning, beautiful Malibu and all those Barbie Dream Homes turned to ash. Men who are abusers - well documented as such - are rising in power, mostly unchecked. Somehow, "diversity" seems like a bad word to a lot of people.

And I know I'm not quite living my best life, either, neither my body nor my mind as healthy as I want them to be. I want to do better, to be better.

But I'm having a sick day, demanded by my belly, impossible to ignore.

I'm sitting here in my pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers, covered in a crochet blanket and sipping ginger tea, trying to figure it out through these words, ready to put my hands on my chest to feel the heat in my palms, and just... be. Listen. Sit.

No answers. I feel the energy of it, the warming tingle of understanding that there is something to be learned.

And I'm sitting now, with my hand over the center of my heart, trying to still my mind, feeling that hard, dark, tight knot responding to the heat that comes from nowhere and everywhere through my hands.

I don't understand, but I'm opening to the idea that there is something worth understanding that will reveal itself in time.

What about you? Does this make one single iota of sense to you? If so, you're my people. And if not? That's okay too, because... life is strange, and this is strange, and it's okay to feel strange together.

"Buy Now," Buy Nothing Year, LA Fires, and Me

There's no way around it - the world is on fire and we're all responsible for it.

Now, don't get me wrong - some are more responsible than others, and I'm pretty sure that corporate greed is at the top off that list, because it drives so much of what happens in the world. But I don't think that's going to let us - me - off the hook.

This week, we're watching LA burn. I keep checking in with my cousin who lives there, and flashing back to the beautiful day spent at her parents' pool, laughing and catching up and drinking sparkling water and telling family stories... because right now her dad has been evacuated from that home, and while if I'm looking at the maps properly his home is still safe, his community is burned to rubble.

It's one disaster in a long string of disasters, from Delhi's heatwave to the wildfire smoke that hit Seattle a couple of years back (nobody I knew had air conditioning or air purifiers, and now they are becoming the norm). Hurricanes are getting more intense, and sea levels are rising, and just today we learned that we have exceeded the 1.5 degree limit set by the Paris Climate Accords, making last year the hottest year on record. The LA fires are shocking and unprecedented... but are they really surprising, at this point? Should anything surprise us at this point?

I don't know how to solve these problems: I'm not a scientist, and my undergraduate degree in economics is pretty dusty these days. But as LA burns, and I wonder if this August I will be locked inside with air purifiers as my state burns... I can't quite let myself off the hook. This seems personal, and immediate, not distant and unrelated.

***

Last week, I watched the documentary "Buy Now" on Netflix. Check it out - it's worth seeing, even though I didn't love the Alexa-ish voice that narrates it. The film made me cringe, and I bet it will make you cringe, too - because the way we run the world is cringe-worthy. It's about our consumerist "buy buy buy" culture, and how we have cheap goods delivered almost at the snap of our fingers, and how much this is impacting the planet AND the people, and the data and images were slightly shocking.

Oceans full of microplastics. Clothing made of plastics. Recycling that isn't really recycling. And the earth getting hotter and hotter as we buy things we don't need and have them shipped directly to our doors.

We're all part of the problem.

I am part of the problem because I love the little dopamine hit I get from ordering a package and then having it show up on my doorstep - a new gizmo to make my life easier, or maybe finally a pair of pants that won't make my butt look fat, or a gift for someone I love. I'm part of the problem because buying pomegranate arils in a plastic tub is easier than buying a whole pomegranate with no packaging; I'm part of the problem because the me who goes grocery shopping is often an optimist who thinks I will love cooking heathy food that week and then some of that food spoils in the refrigerator. I'm part of the problem because I have far more than I need in this house of mine - more towels, more dishes, more chairs, more pens, more clothes... more, more, more. (I don't have too many books. I refuse to believe such a thing exists.)

I'm part of the problem. Maybe a smaller problem than some people, sure, but also a bigger problem than I need to be. I decided before LA started burning that I was going to do a Buy Nothing Year, where I only buy consumables like food and toilet paper and replacement items for things that break or wear out, as an effort to do better for the planet and my life.

Watching LA burn, I'm doubling down on my commitment to do better for the environment. I can't save LA, or Seattle, or even West Seattle, or even my own tiny plot of land... but I can do better.

I'm going to do better.

This year, I'm going to try to greatly limit my impact on the planet and reduce what I consume, and I'm going to try to move closer to being a part of the solution than being a part of the problem. Maybe a more reasonable goal is to just try not to be such a big problem... but whatever the scale, I'm going to do better. 

Anyone want to join me? I know I'm not alone in this: I see folks talking about this a lot, and making conscious decisions about what and how they consume. I'm behind some of you, I'm sure.

But I'm not going to compete with anyone, I'm just going to try.

The first thing I'm going to try to do is to stop buying stuff I don't need, whether that's the bag of greens that goes icky at the back of the refrigerator, or a pair of pants that I really don't need. Those are both pretty good examples for me, actually, because both are problems.

I go grocery shopping with my list, and then I come home after work on a Wednesday and I am WIPED OUT and I can't fathom cooking, and so then I do an alternate plan - take out or something microwavable or cheese and crackers - and the bag of greens, once planned for, has no plan.

I look at social media or just go out in the world, and I decide that my pants aren't right: they are too skinny or too wide, the waist too high or too low (kidding, I LOVE A HIGH WAIST!), the wrong shade, the length too short or too long, and that I would feel so much better about my changing (oh, middle age/aging ...!) body if I just had a pair that was... different. I shop the sales, and presto, something shows up at my house, in a bunch of packaging that I throw away or recycle (but so much packaging, and I'm half convinced that my efforts to recycle are foolish pretending, because reducing is where it's at).

And so it goes.

I can do better. It won't save LA, but it won't hurt, either, and I'm tired of this merry-go-round that leads nowhere. The calliope music of the Amazon truck pulling up at my house is charming for a moment but... that's not my kind of music.

I'm not here to convince anyone, and I'm not going to give the long string of statistics about waste, carbon footprints, and unintended consequences of manufacturing. I bet you know as much about that as I do, anyway. The information is everywhere: the environmental cost of shipping everything, the unnatural products that we create and how they off-gas or create various forms of toxicity released to the air, water, and soil. It's depressing, isn't it?

So instead of getting a dopamine hit off the new pants that will not, in actuality, make my butt look smaller... I'm going to try the thrill of saying "No." No has power, too.

My buy nothing year is harder than it sounds, though, and I've already struggled. At the end of December I made the decision to do it, and decided to buy myself a pair of black jeans that I had been coveting for a long while. I ordered them, they showed up after new year's, I tried them on, and I LOVE them. They really are flattering, and go with everything. I decided I should buy the same kind in denim, too, because I really don't like any of my jeans, and I could call these a replacement item that fits my buy nothing year (replacements are fine!)... except... except, I'm pretty sure, I'm just justifying my purchases.

I put them in my cart, but I took them out. I put them back in, took them back out. So far, I'm winning, and I hope that by recording it here I won't actually put them back in the card or pull the trigger on buying them, because despite all the justifications in the world, I have plenty of pants. PLENTY.

I'm at home today because I'm sick (a stomach bug, which I DO NOT RECOMMEND) and so I thought, "Okay, I'll shop online for groceries because I'm home sick," and then I filled my cart with $58 worth of groceries, and then I saw that shipping was free if I did $100, and so I filled my cart some more...

And then I realized that I didn't need one damned thing. I can make due with what I have, without suffering. I didn't have bread, but I had an extra bag of Rhodes Rolls left over in the freezer (uncooked because, ironically, some of our Christmas Eve guests canceled due to stomach flu), and though it wasn't the potato bread I was craving, really, wasn't it enough? And wasn't I just saying I had no idea what do do with a bag of dinner rolls I was never going to cook? I managed to delete my order before placing it, and five minutes of effort (plus four hours of proofing time) yielded the white bread that my upset stomach was craving. If I didn't have freezer rolls I do have a no-knead recipe that is super simple and, again, only takes five minutes plus proofing/cooking time, and uses ingredients that I have on hand. And I also had a friend call to offer to deliver groceries, and since all I really needed was that loaf of bread... why on earth was I considering using this time to stock up on things that, mostly, I didn't need, and would just sit in my cupboards for months? 

Judge me. I know I'm not alone. Maybe my habits are different than yours, but we as a society have some bad habits and I know I'm not alone.

And so it goes. I'm part of the problem, and I want to do better. I have this crazy theory that if we all just tried to do better, maybe, just maybe, the earth could heal a little. I know, call me a crazy optimist, and I know how big the problem is, and how small my solutions are... but really, can't we do better? Can't I? 

I'm trying.

Here are some things that I'm working on to do a better job with the planet. None of them are revolutionary. In theory, all of them are ridiculously simple. In practice, I find them hard in the moment (see examples above). Even if I do them imperfectly, I'm thinking it's worth trying, failing, and getting back up again. But also... I can do better, and the only thing that could make me fail is not trying, so I'm going for it.

- It's a Buy Nothing 2025. Which isn't true at all, of course - I need things to survive. But I'm going to use things up, and use 'good enough' things instead of new shiny things. I can finish the shampoo bottle before switching brands, I can wear the good enough jeans, and only when the shampoo is gone should I buy more. I will buy consumables - food being the most obvious. New newly manufactured stuff except consumables and replacement items (if my running shoes start hurting my feet, for example, I will get new ones).

- When I do need to buy something, I will buy used when possible. Tessa is really into thrifting, and we went thrifting multiple times over break, heading to our local Value Village. I couldn't believe it - I found the EXACT candle holders that I had in my Amazon cart, at a fraction of the price! And then I found two sweaters that I had on Pinterest boards. Keeping these items out of a landfill is good for the planet, and allowing myself a pick me up is okay with me when it's not contributing to the manufacture of packaging and waste.

- Use things up. This is particularly true for food: instead of asking myself "what do I crave?" I need to do better at saying, "What do I need to use up?" While I'm not a huge fan of microwaved food, I make sure to keep some Trader Joe's premade meals in the freezer for days when I can't bear to cook, because those days are going to happen despite my best intentions, and I don't need to do take-out or eat out. I can use up the body products, the food in my fridge and cupboards (even menu planning around them - last time I cleaned out my condiments shelf in the fridge I was embarrassed at how many items had only a bit missing before expiring). I'm pretty good at making big batches of soup and then freezing portions for later use... and I need to do more like this. No more slimy greens in a big. Not craving a salad? Too bad - you bought salad ingredients! Plus, I never in my life have felt bad after eating a salad. It's time to do a better job of remembering this.

- Speaking of bags: I'm trying to reduce my packaging when I buy things. I've been working on this for a long time, so I'm ahead of the curve here. Years ago I stopped taking bags from stores, bringing my own instead (at the grocery store I bring them in from my car; I also carry a cute Loqi bag in my purse all the time that has been used more times than I could possibly count and is good for gift shopping, not just groceries). I drink water and coffee or tea from my Hydroflask and rarely if ever buy a drink in a disposable cup when I'm out and about. But I have a long way to go: I'm still very tempted by the plastic tub of pomegranates, or the pre-cut and bagged squash, and if I bought my spinach at the farmers market I would use my own bag (and it would taste better). Next up I'm going to try to reduce packaging for shampoos, conditioners, and cleaning products, maybe by switching to bars and tablets. I already use powdered dishwashing and laundry detergent (I like Seventh Generation but I will need to research even better options) because they come in less waste packaging than their liquid counterparts, and they take up less space/weight when being shipped. I would like to do a review for every product I buy, from hand soap to toilet bowl cleaner, to make more eco-friendly choices. I have no idea what to do about food packaging... am I really saying that I should never buy a granola bar because of its packaging? Maybe. I know. Maybe. But... baby steps.

- When I do need to buy something new, I am going to shop local. Amazon employs some of my favorite people (here in Seattle, they ARE a local company) ... but I don't think they are the kind of company I want running the world, and they ARE running the world. By shopping locally at mom and pop places, I keep my community vibrant, and that counts for something. (A lot. It counts for a lot.) And I have to think that these small businesses are doing a better job with the environment than that big corporation....? 

- This merits its own post, but I'm also going to try to rewild my yard in an intentional way, removing the grass and adding native species that may be drought resistant. I read a book about rewilding recently, and it fits what I'm trying to do with my life... and what I could do with my yard. I'd like to add snowberry, elderberry, salmonberry, and some more huckleberry; I could add salal and swordfern and bracken, bleeding heart and trillium, and some kind of evergreens that won't engulf the whole space (because my yard won't fit a big cedar, hemlock, or Douglas fir). I want native birds and butterflies and worms and bugs to feel at home here, and to require minimal care, creating their own pretty ecosystem.

- I'm going to try to reconnect with nature. I used to be such a nature girl, and Tessa and I hiked and backpacked and camped through her childhood... and somewhere along the way it has fallen away. I want to do more. Maybe by reveling in nature I will be reminded to take better care of her.

LA is on fire, and this summer the fires could easily be in the Cascades and Olympics, and I'm mad about it. I can't save them, but I can work on my life, so that is what I'm going to do.

What are you going to do? If you have ideas, please let me know! I'm eager to connect with others who are trying, as well.