2022 - Where am I?

2022 has been a really tough year so far. Although I went into the year knowing that my dad was very sick, I didn’t go into the year seeing his death on the horizon; let alone on the second day of the year. He fought hard, and I can’t imagine what he went through trying to make it through the holidays. As we waited until midnight on New Year’s Eve, I couldn’t figure out why he kept asking if it was January 1 yet and I didn’t know why he was so interested in the time since December 31, 2021 and January 1, 2022 were going to be pretty much the same kind of day. I remember telling one of my friends how he died the day after my mom’s birthday and her saying simply, “That’s love.” She’s right, but it just astounded me how it had fallen and that he seemed like he had a checklist of things that had to happen before he passed - and what in the world did it take for him to do that?

Living in a world without my dad is still very new to me, but the pain is like the waves of the ocean - it is a constant, but sometimes it gets to a point where it knocks me over. And, imagine, being knocked underwater; the surprise of being submerged in water and trying to adjust. You might figure out how to stand up against the waves or have a more manageable response to being knocked underwater, but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier. Because it doesn’t. You just learn how to adapt to what you’ve lost.  

As Paul Bettany’s philosophical android Vision said, “What is grief, if not love preserving?” I understand that better now. Grief is born from love. I don’t know how to live without my dad, even if I’ve been doing it for eight months, but how much he loved my family and I and vice versa is unforgettable and makes the hard days a little easier. 

Unfortunately, for me and my family, 2022 was set to be a painful year of adjustments. That first year was always going to leave a mark (no pun intended). It was always going to be a struggle. 

But even beyond that, 2022 just has not been a good time. I’ve gotten a couple articles published. A few of my friends had their firstborn babies and I went to a wedding and everything leading up to that. Otherwise, I can’t think of anything beyond singular events that has been good about 2022. I really can’t think of anything that made me feel good for more than a day or so. There is a lot of pain and doubt. Hell, I finally got Covid. I still can’t walk - to the point I’m using a cane at times.

I’ve talked about my struggles with my leg, and, because of those limitations, haven’t gotten to do many of the things I’d like to do. Along with being frustrating, it can be quite boring, frankly. But it is also like a cycle - my mental health is suffering from my physical pain, but I can’t alleviate either pain with physical activity and it just stews. It is astounding to wonder how my mental health would improve if I could go take walks. I’m not talking about trying to run again. I just want to be able to go take a walk without being overcome by pain. Take my dog for a walk. Ride my bike. I used to walk laps around the pool in my background on summer nights while listening to music - I miss that. 

My leg pain is oddly impacted by the shoes I wear - I don’t mean like wearing heels or wedges or fancy shoes. I mean I am limited to the tennis shoes I can wear that won’t cause serious pain. And it’s just the left leg and foot. Crocs and Skechers are my go-to’s, Vans and Converses can be hit or miss, depending on what I’m doing and how I was already feeling. I spend way too much time searching for my Cinderella slipper and planning outfits around the shoes I can wear. Thank you Vice-President Kamala Harris for showcasing the blazer, jeans, and Converse look - I find myself dressing sneakers up, or trying to at least. My style has totally changed because of physical ailments my leg and foot cause. 

The leg thing takes a lot out of me. Physical pain can be exhausting. Trying to anticipate what I can handle usually skyrockets my anxiety. The pain itself can amp up anxiety. And I will be honest - I do have anxiety about using my cane and how it is perceived, especially since I don’t need it all the time. 

2022, man. The anxiety is endless. Physically, I am often stuck but I just feel stagnant in life overall. Frazzled and foggy. That’s how my brain feels most of the time. I feel like a sputtering engine; I just start and stop over and over and I can’t find the reason why.

My writing is nowhere close to where I wanted it to be right now, nor are my side hustles as a freelance writer and jewelry maker. I haven’t read as I would have liked to this year; I think I have marked more books as “did not finish” than I did finish…which isn’t typical of me, at all. 

But you want to know what is really crazy here? How much I think about writing. I’ve had plenty of start-and-stop blog posts - there’s a number of drafts I have just waiting to be finished. I’m always examining how I can improve and what skills I should learn or grow. 

I’ve never been a fan of “you have to write every day.” I believe I am in-tune with myself enough to know when it isn’t even worth trying to write - and avoiding more frustration. Forced writing has never worked for me. Sometimes it takes a little brainstorming or outlining to get the writing unstuck. But that doesn’t always work either. 

Where am I? In 2022, I don’t know. I’m not where I want to be. But I don’t even know how to move in the right direction.  And even if I try to give myself some grace considering the circumstances, well, I’m an anxious person by nature and can be really hard on myself. I’m never doing enough, from my point of view. And, you know, I wonder if things get “better” will I ever feel like I’m doing enough? Or will it always be aiming for more, more, more? I honestly don’t know. It is sad, but I haven’t been happy with where I am in life in a long time. 

Lately, I’ve had some better spurts of writing. Watching Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman on Netflix has me thinking of writing fiction for the first time in a very long time. I think that kind of helped get the wheels spinning again. So, thanks Neil Gaiman.

Probably what you, dear reader, are wondering - why the hell am I telling yinz this? In part, to try and explain my absence - it isn’t one I am happy about. Is there ever a good reason? I don’t know. It is a weird thought. Like I said at the beginning, there was no doubt that 2022 was going to have a rough go of it. I just don’t know when it will get better. It is just a vague…cloud. No direction. I have so much writing I hope I will get to the page. But even now - I am kind of lost with what I wanted to write. I just wanted to write and basically say that in 2022, I am feeling a lot of things I can’t necessarily put a name to. 

Although the meaning of the lyrics might not align with how I feel, I think Elton John’s “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me” (co-written with Bernie Taupin) is a pretty good summary of how I feel, here:

I can't light no more of your darkness

All my pictures seem to fade to black and white

I'm growing tired and time stands still before me

Frozen here on the ladder of my life

Except, it’s my own darkness without any light. 

But the year isn’t over yet. Can’t forget that. Each day offers a new chance at change.

Please note, friends, that I really hope I will be more active with posting. I have so much I want to share.

Not to be totally depressing and blah - I did want to share a look into some of the good this year has had. And if you’re wondering about the hat - it is a first responder lifestyle and health publication that I have had the opportunity to write for a few times, and I was really excited about having some type of official product from them.

Then there’s this. I just had this done. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo in memory of my dad. My mom actually got her first tattoo - a Maltese cross with his initials. It cracks me up how my parents worried that I’d have to cover up a tattoo less than three inches big during an internship to suggesting one of my tattoos(re: the lightsaber on the leg scar) and joining the inked club. In the past few years, my dad would say if he wasn’t on blood thinners, he would’ve gotten my mom’s initials on the ring finger of his left hand. But, being on blood thinners nixed that. 

I couldn’t think of what I wanted. I had no idea what would be an adequate way to honor my dad. I had a couple ideas, but then, very randomly, thought of Jedi Master Yoda wearing a fire helmet. For context, you most likely know that I am a volunteer firefighter and that I grew up at the fire station because of him. He had more than 45 years of service in the fire service. For a good portion of my childhood, he was our fire chief. 

And Yoda - everyone knows how much I love Star Wars. So did he. He definitely tolerated a lot of my obsession. Yoda was his favorite character (and he’s top 2 for me). There is not an image in this world that would be more appropriate to honor my dad…Yoda wearing a fire helmet. In fact, a friend saw my photo on Facebook and said she didn’t even need to look at who posted it. Of course it was me.

I have to admit, it is bigger than what I first imagined. But damn if it didn’t come out amazing. I absolutely love it. 

And I know my dad absolutely loves it, too.