(The Last) Long Overdue Blog Post, Part 6: February 2020-the present.

Clearly, I did not die that night. After that I had an arterial catheterization and several other tests and they couldn’t find a single thing wrong with me. I was sent home, but decided to take two weeks off work so I could recover. Joey ended up flying us down to Florida so I could get some sun and relax and he could keep working on the motorhome. That was a very nice time. 

When we got back, it wasn’t long until Covid was getting serious. Joey shut down his business before the mandate. My workplace didn’t shut down, so I said I couldn’t come in because I had some sort of unknown heart condition and also Joey has lupus. They understood, and I got disability pay. However, as things progressed, I was very unimpressed with how they handled Covid and our livelihoods, and I ended up sharing my opinion and not accepting the offer of the job after the furlough ended. 

And then it was Covid. We were stuck in our homes. You know the deal. Strangely, business skyrocketed for Joey, and he was finally able to buy land. The perfect place just seemed to appear. It all came together. This isn’t to imply Joey didn’t fight very hard to make it happen. 

And now, here we are. Joey, me, Drew, and two cats, just like in the motorhome days, plus two beautiful angora rabbits, chickens, ducks, and all our other animals. Gardens. 96 acres of land with forests and fields and a very large pond full of fish, that you can swim in. A beautiful house already built. It’s a fucking dream. 

But I’ve been endlessly anxious. I can’t seem to get a break. In my class at PROS, we learned that anxiety is often covering up another emotion. I realized mine is fear and sadness. 

I’m so afraid. 

We’ve been really monitoring my mental health this past month, because the first time I was hospitalized was not too long after the 2016 election. When Trump won, I felt we were all in deep shit. I was pretty sure we would have an equivalency of Nazi Germany in a few years time. The sad part is, I don’t think I was wrong. People told me to relax, and didn’t get why I wanted to leave the country (unfortunately it wasn’t possible.) I felt like I only had Joey. I started smoking a shit ton of weed to try to relax, and my paranoia got worse and worse. I started believing all kinds of shit, like that people of the resistance were communicating with me through twitter and google maps, such as the singer Morrissey (don’t get me started on what a dick he has become) and Chelsea Manning. I believed I was particularly on Trump’s radar. 

Anyway. I don’t feel psychotic now. I’m not on drugs. Haven’t been for over a year. But I am terrified again. Today Joey and I were talking at the table about how important it is just to enjoy what we have….what we are SO VERY LUCKY to have. What we’ve wanted since we were children. This amazing home. This beautiful family. And love. But we’re both depressed and anxious. 

“Maybe Biden will win and people will protest but it won’t be that bad,” I said. Crazy that in this day and age I’m like, “maybe just *some* people will die….and it will be sad, but we’ll be OK. Most of us will be OK.” But I feel absolutely helpless. The Supreme court will be corrupted entirely after tonight. It’s the end of any shred of justice in America. 

I asked Joey if I could tell him what I’m really afraid of. He said sure. I started sobbing. It’s been more common since I greatly reduced my testosterone. 

I told him I was afraid there would be nazis, trumpys, actively coming after all who disagreed or represented one of their hated groups. I have visions of them taking my parents. Destroying the city I grew up in. Coming up our driveway. Burning our home. Harming us in ways I can’t even say. Killing my loved ones in front of me. 

I’m crying again. I still think this probably won’t happen? But it does happen, around the world, all the time. It could easily happen. I honestly feel…humbled. Being an American is not being immune. It has never been, for many. And I have faced horrible discrimination….but never this level of fear for my security and my loved ones. 

I briefly mentioned my scorn for Morrissey. He has decided to side with the fascists of this world, and as my hero for so long, he broke my heart. But my relationship to him was unhealthy anyway, even if his music was a necessary, and beautiful, crutch that got me through my twenties alive. I wanted to get tattoo removal on my chest, but now I feel like I need the words more than ever. “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out.” I could never see that light before I got better; before my ketamine journey, before giving up drugs and alcohol, before learning what true love with Joey meant. But even when I got that tattoo, at age 22, right after my mastectomy, I believed it existed. And it may still be one of my favorite songs someday when I can listen to it again with some distance. I’m glad to have those words on me for now. The light is love. I’ve never understood how important love truly is. That’s what I hold onto. That’s what is calming me down. Love for my life, and for those in it.  Forgive me for sounding so saccharine. But seriously, all we can do is live, laugh, love, enjoy one another, and be in the present moment. That’s what I’ve learned on this journey. Make art. Be kind. All the cliches are what is really deep in life.  

It’s raining lightly but steadily outside my window. My face is tear stained and I’m sure my eye-makeup I put on is running. This past 2 and a half years have been insane. There is still so much more to tell, but I’ll save that for other entries. For now, I end my 6 part blog series, wishing you and your loved ones happiness, safety, and peace.

I’ll be writing more soon. Please follow. 🙂