Grateful

It is 4:18 am and I am grateful. Grateful my dogs are sleeping in their crates. Grateful my husband is snoring next to me in bed.

I rarely have had time lately to truly marinate in my life. I am always on the go. But now I have some so here goes.

Life is strange. It is wonderful yes, but the highs and lows can be like living life on a roller coaster. One moment you're screaming with joy. And the next, well your stomach drops and you cover your face.

I am very lucky, some may say blessed. I have a lot. I have a life's purpose. Well, two really, law and literature. Even writing this, so early, brings me joy. That's why I do it. There's no other reason someone would write aloud to the world for more than a decade on a blog.

My sisters are also something I'm very grateful for. Through this whole ordeal, they've been very supportive. And I appreciate it. My friends have been similarly beautiful, lovely and kind. There is one person missing from the equation, but that is not my journey, that's theirs. I am just here to be me. To love my dogs. To appreciate my husband, our moms, and my sisters. Isn't that what Christmas is for?

Now if the universe would just gift me a couple more hours of sleep. I'll have all I need. 

Sitting

I'm up. Anxious. Worried, thinking what if Merry doesn't make it through the surgery? 

My twin told me a few days ago that whatever is meant to be will be. She's right. I know. 

A writer friend of mine talks about sitting in the hours. But how do you sit in time when all you can do is worry?

I've been entrusted with these small little puppies. Their lives were in my hands and the worst happened. They were hurt. I feel so much guilt and remorse for not doing better, but then I think it's okay. They will be okay. You will be okay.

Yesterday, I tried to be kind to myself. I told myself, all is good. I drank too much coffee just trying to get through my last day of work for a couple of weeks. I was anxious. 

This is just my little slip of my world. My corner I must sit in. We all have issues. Family members get hurt and sick. They age. We must deal with it. It's part of the human condition. But it's hard. 

I deal with trauma everyday at work. People incarcerated at the worst point in their lives. I always tell the people in my program that my best day is when I see my clients out of custody doing well. It happens all the time. People do better. They get better. 

I can do better, and I will. In an hour, I will drive Merry to his doctor and I will stay positive and then I will drive home and wait. 

Love sweet love

Yesterday, was a hard day. The wind blew over furniture that almost crushed my dogs. I turned my head for an instant. And a planter came down on them. Lifting it up, I thought they must be dead. But their little selves were there, and they were hurt, but alive. 

I panicked. I called Adrian crying and then I called my work to let them know I would be out. I called my twin sister Jackie. I told her to look up an emergency vet because my brain wasn't working.

The dogs were seriously injured I could tell. Merry was lethargic and just looked at me and put his head down. Pippin was limping. Jackie said, "Just get them to the doctor, now."

I was going to rush them to the Redlands veterinary ER, but my longtime vet answered his cell. He was in his La Verne office (he's only there sporadically as he works in Santa Monica now) and said bring them in. 

Jackie drove down to meet me at the vet. I didn't expect that. From Palm Springs to La Verne. That's being there. It was so kind. I was so hysterical that a woman prayed with me as I stood sobbing outside the vet waiting for Jackie.

It's so weird. I usually am not open with my emotions like that. But it seems the floodgates opened and I couldn't control it. I was all raw emotion. Jackie got there and comforted me. She told me it was a freak accident. I loved her for saying it.

Turns out, Merry has a broken pelvis. Pippin has a broken shoulder which will heal in his little cast wrap. They're both on opioids and crated and on Friday, Merry will have surgery to repair his hip and pelvis. He's young, and the universe willing, he should heal. But will I? 

It's 3:25 am as I write this. I slept downstairs by their crate. I check on them. I kiss them. I tell them how sorry I am this happened.

I suppose what this all taught me, if I am to find some kind of meaning here, is that life is precious. Family is everything. The worst can happen. And everything can change in a split second. But the way through it all, and what matters, is love. Just love, sweet love. 

The light

 It's dark.

The wind howls. 

A generator shrieks 

In the distance.

It's 3 am. 

We have no power. 

No electricity. 

Southern California Edison

Strikes again. 

I think of work. 

Where I have some power.

Just some.

I visited my program today. 

Well yesterday. 

To tell my clients

We are all one. 

I'm them, they're me. 

One light to shine. 

But there's no light here.

Like I said, it's 3 am. 

The neighborhood is dark.

I'll have to see the light

In my dreams. 

The Corner

I know, I haven't posted for a bit. I've been finishing up a class for my MFA, and work's been crazy. I've also been dealing with some sadness. Sadness that eats at my soul. 

But this weekend, I feel like I turned a corner. We decorated for Christmas. We hung up lights, along with Grinch blowups, and we even put a real Christmas tree in the front yard.

Then, as if the universe intended it, I got a call. Can you come get your two puppies a week early? I knew it would be difficult. I have some things scheduled this week along with work, but then I said, "Of course, yes!"

My heart lit up. As if I'd been holding my breath and the beating of my Grinch heart until it could expand, and now it feels as if I am starting fresh. As if my heart grew two sizes. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood is what I'm feeling. 

Here's an except from a piece from a much longer essay that I wrote for class: 

The week of Thanksgiving. Joni Mitchell's voice on the speaker cuts through and I sing along as I cut my oranges. I'm making old fashioned drinks. Bourbon, simple syrup, water, bitters, an orange peel. I make them in short glasses with ice. I take a picture of them next to a poinsettia and put it on Instagram with an old time song. 

I can drink all I want. I have no kids to mess up with my addictions. My husband is cooking a turkey. We clink glasses. My 90 year old mother in law is drinking a short glass of vermouth. She rarely drinks so her face turns red. Adrian makes her pour the rest out. 

"Why didn't you bring your mom over after you met up with her and Jackie?" Adrian asks. I look at him and shrug, "I didn't think of it. Plus, she had a party with the seniors. And we're taking her to Vegas with us for Thanksgiving."

I don't know if that's the whole truth or not. Truth is, I want to relax. And drink my drink, watching the ice melt around the bourbon.

And yet, I also want to have my family over for Christmas. I am feeling like I need it. I need that connection to new Christmas memories to blur out the old and here's hoping my family will come over on Christmas and fingers, eyes and toes crossed, there will be no drama.

***

I am awaiting my puppies to arrive next month. I had no idea how quiet the house would be without a dog. Now we will have two again. Merry and Pippin. Shih Tzu hobbit brothers. I will take care of them. They will take care of me. The day those dogs arrive will be a beautiful day in the neighborhood. A beautiful day. 

Stress Decompress

I am learning that I don't always handle stress well. I thought I was okay. Then work turned into a chaotic mess. And when it got even more busy and dramatic, I just powered though. But as a result, I fell asleep at 7 pm every workday the last couple of weeks, which is when I got home last night after an hour of traffic.

It was pitch dark when I got home. I couldn't find my keys, so rang the bell. Which everyone ignored, so I eventually found my keys and opened the door. I stuffed a piece of banana bread in my mouth then went upstairs.

I streamed reruns of West Wing, which always soothes me. Then fell asleep. It's now 2 am and I am wide awake. I miss Chewbacca. His loss, and Frodo's a couple of years back, is really impacting my mental health and ability to deal. 

Yet I know, I just can't just sleep my stress away. My puppies, Merry and Pippen, are arriving in a month and I know that will help but until then, what should I do? I have to clear my mind.

My plan is to decompress. Take a walk when I get home tonight, breathe, light a candle, say a little mantra that I can't control it all, and then write. Write. And write some more. 

The Key

Yesterday, I did a keynote at CSUSB. I'd done speeches, closing arguments, performances, and workshops, but I had never done a keynote. It took me weeks to write it. Not that the writing took weeks because I've always been a relatively quick scribe. What took so long was thinking about it and figuring out the structure, and themes. 

What I realized after reading keynotes, commencement speeches and how to musings, was that every keynote needs a theme and the tone is conversational. This conference was about Latinas rising up. So the theme was built in already, but I wanted to tweak it. I wanted to talk about what is a Latina? And how do we dream big and shutter out the sabotaging voices, both internal and external. 

I used to often struggle, although may not have shown it, with imposter syndrome, and I still do occasionally. It's probably because I am consistently trying to get outside my comfort zone and to challenge myself. Recently, I was in a story showcase at the Colony Theater. I was completely out of my element with this LA centric cast that had some great storytellers. I felt intimidated and off kilter at first. Then, quickly, I made some connections and felt comfortable. 

In the end, I think life is about making connections. And to get to speak to a group of academically focused Latinas at CSUSB was a gift. 

Here is an excerpt from the introduction to my keynote if you're interested: 

Excerpt keynote CSUSB 11-15-24 Latinas Rising Conference:

"I started out in junior college after dropping out of Chaffey high school 5 credits short in 1989.


And I tell you this so you understand, that I see you. I remember begging for rides to school, because I never had a working car. I remember choosing between class and that extra waitressing shift to pay my rent. I spent all my years until 30 years of age in survival mode. 


I remember those years well. I still feel that blue collar ness in my soul, my mom was a waitress and my dad a trucker, so it's ingrained in me. I am an inland empire girl.


But let's get to the keynote.


I have to say that at times, I ask myself, how do I get myself into these situations?


As a rule, I usually say yes to things so when a fellow writing friend suggested she put me in the hat for this speech, I, of course, said yes. Then I stressed. 


What will I say? Why do they want to hear from me? But that's the saboteur voice in my head. The voice that says I'm an imposter. Don't listen to that voice will be my first piece of advice. 


Because that voice is wrong. Plus, if I think about it, I have a lot to say  and having something to say is half the game in life. The other half is saying it, so here I am."