BIRTHDAYS

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Thursday was my mother’s birthday. This evening, I will drive to Tulsa to spend the night at my brother’s house so that I can get up the next morning to spend an hour or two with her before driving home. This is not un-similar to how my visits with my dad used to go. The differences are minor. Dad was still a three hour drive away from Tulsa and the last time I saw him, he still knew who I was. Now, I don’t have to drive as far but my mother doesn’t know me. Our visits are short ones, like the one’s with Dad, because Mom tires quickly. It also has to be confusing for her and maybe a little stressful. At this point, I’m not sure why I’m going. Guilt? Respect? Maybe my presence brightens her day?

My feelings are a sushi roll.

I went in on Tuesday for my regularly scheduled chiropractor visit. We chatted and laughed while Dr. Fran popped my body back into place. She basically reset me from the four weeks of plane flights, car rides and sleeping on unfamiliar pillows. I walked out of the office with a bounce in my step, then got in my car and started crying. I cried all the way back to work while asking myself “What are you even crying about?!” Apparently some of that pop pop released some pent up grief, stuff I’ve been holding onto since Thanksgiving. Probably stuff I’ve been holding onto a lot longer than Thanksgiving.

I keep telling myself that after this weekend, things will slow down. I will have time for myself, time for developing a plan to get myself back on my yoga mat on the regular. I’ll have time to really really clean the house. I’ll finally start clearing out all of the things that no longer serve me. I have a need to clear some space in the house, probably left over trauma from cleaning out Mom’s houses. I’ve given myself a start date in February to get the ball rolling on all of the above, but on Wednesday morning as I drove into work, I felt that old familiar feeling creeping in, whispering “you know you don’t do well during this time of the year.” If those whispers were lies, I might just be able to ignore them, but the whispers are telling the truth.

Winter is not good for me.

There’s an extra layer of heaviness this year. A fleet of ICE vehicles are parked in a lot north of the river and we’ve had conversations about what that means for the people I work with. One of those people said that they aren’t too worried since they live on the Kansas side. That’s a republican state. He said they really seemed to be more concerned with the democrat areas and he’s right. This is not about immigration. This is all about intimidation and retaliation on those who do not support the Trump agenda. On top of my usual winter layer of grief, I now have an added layer of worry for the people I care for and respect in my community. When I talk about community, I am referring to all of the people in it. White, brown, black, LGTBQ+. These are the people who make up my community and what makes my community such a great one to be a part of.

So…how do I find gratitude under these circumstances?

‘Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

I would not care as much if I did not have love. I would not worry if I did not have a connection with this community. All of this would mean nothing to me if I did not believe that we are meant to care for one another. I am grateful for the love, the connections and the strong belief in kindness. It is my gratitude for those things that make me want to fight to keep them safe, to keep this conversation going, to do my part in sharing correct (multi-sourced) information. I am also very aware that these ICE tactics are part of the distraction being used by Trump. If you are spending time being outraged by ICE’s illegal activities, maybe you won’t know how much of your tax dollars he’s funneling into programs that only benefit those making a million dollars or more a year. What’s your representative doing right now that is beneficial to you and your community? Holding our government officials accountable is a never ending responsibility.

Someday, I won’t have the need to be compelled to write about all of this. This is my belief, my hope, my wish. While my little flame of hope feels more like an ember right now, it’s still glowing, still giving off just enough light to keep me going. I am grateful for that.