I recently read “Why We’re Polarized” by Vox founder Ezra Klein, in which he asserts that America’s dominant political coalitions have sorted themselves by myriad dimensions that transcend mere political identity, resulting in increasingly more extreme polarization. This polarization derived from a series of feedback loops in which politicians and organizations adopted gradually increasing polarized strategies to respond and appeal to a more polarized audience, which became a vicious cycle that continually begets itself polarizing both the institutions and the audience in turn. Some examples he discusses in the book have to do with immigration reform and health care, which are directly related to socioeconomic status, poverty, and healthcare access (themselves examples of the relationship between power, privilege, and health equity). It’s been interesting to consider Klein’s broader explanation of how polarization has been affecting national political parties, driving identity politics and pushing the social consciousness of citizens to progressively more extreme attitudes, and reflect on how it impacts individual communities, such as Washington State and King County in particular, which has gradually become more and more liberal, and Seattle specifically, where residents are generally so left-leaning that they’re often accused of living in a blue bubble. This progressive migration leftward has coincided with my personal journey through nursing, which began in 2012. As I’ve become more exposed to healthcare needs of people who live in King County and exposed to the physiological and financial consequences and costs of inadequate health care, both for the individual and society, I’ve developed ideas that 2012 Angela would find utterly radical, but which 2020 Angela considers necessary, obvious, and humane. This coalesced, for example, in my participation with the Seattle-King County Clinic (SKCC).
Before I joined the Gordian Knot Society (GKS), I was already actively seeking ways to spread equality, perpetrate equity, explore my relationship to race and privilege, and find ways to use my status both as a white person and a nurse to make an impact in mitigating social determinants of health. Working with SKCC certainly affirmed my choice to do so, and it continues as I pursue projects within GKS. In the article “How to Reduce Implicit Bias” by the Institute for Healthcare Improvement, the authors list some strategies to reduce implicit bias; one of them is to increase contact with people who are different from yourself. By building bridges with people from other communities, backgrounds, and identities, we can see each other as more than our racial or cultural stereotypes - we begin to see each other as fellow humans. It is this which drives me to collaborate with disenfranchised populations; illuminating the need for people with the means to do so (such as myself) to provide humane care and comfort for those who need it, and to work to promote increased equity in our healthcare systems and political structures; in fact, it’s precisely why I’m pursuing my Doctor of Nursing Practice from the University of Washington.
To be effective, I’ve had to develop some cultural humility; if I want to help someone else, I have to try to understand them from their perspective – it’s not about me. I identify with Michaelangelo's description of ancora imparo – I am still learning. Through my journey as a nurse, I have begun to learn about more than myself and my relationship to the world; I’m learning to consider people’s lives and perspectives very different from mine. For example, I was in the crowd on August 8, 2015, when Bernie Sanders’ speech was pre-empted in a chaotic confrontation with Black Lives Matter protesters. I didn’t understand what was happening, and I was terrified. While I felt horrified in general at what I believed was disproportionate violence against black and brown people by police, as a white person, I was still relatively ignorant at that time of racial disparities and how they contribute to poor health outcomes. I felt helpless to do anything about it. However, through my commitment to understanding why the protestors were so angry that day, I have learned how to begin healing from my infection of implicit bias and start using my white privilege to be a force for social justice. I have tried to do this by learning from black and brown voices working to illuminate the importance of antiracism, such as Ijeoma Oluo, Ibram X. Kendi, Michelle Alexander, and Lace Watkins; I am immensely grateful for their work. If I can change, so can others, and I intend to be a leader in that change. I’m sick of trying to help one person at a time in a broken system; I want to change the system. Will you join me?
This paradigm shift's leading-edge is fixing power imbalances where none ought to exist, as in the health care disparities that disproportionately affect immigrants, people in poverty, the LGBTQ+ community, and people of color. In this spirit, I lend my heart, hands, and voice to the hospital where I work, SKCC, GKS, and other opportunities to collaborate to be a force for changes that support individuals' health and well-being communities. However, no matter how dedicated, most private individuals such as myself simply lack the social, political, or financial capital to make a significant impact alone. In committing to this shift, we partner with advocacy groups such as SKCC and GKS to effect change in systems that reinforce division.
To truly address power imbalances inherent in healthcare, organizations that operate within these systems must change.
Just like Bernie’s 2016 rally in Seattle was the beginning of my personal awakening, current events are a clarion call to the private sector to examine their corporate identities with regards to how they can play a role in addressing social justice. Many public organizations, such as universities and government institutions, have recognized the importance of cultural humility, equality, equity, and antiracism and how they impact citizens and communities. While these public organizations may press and lead for a change, they cannot do it alone. The private sector should create and support programs and initiatives that promote health equity and social justice; what is good for customers and communities is good for business.
“It’s naive to think business doesn’t have anything to do with the outside world. Business impacts how wealth is distributed, which in turn factors into gender, racial, and economic disparity,” reflected Tiffany Apczynski, Vice President, Public Policy and Social Impact at Zendesk. “It makes for a more fair society when businesses work to break the cycle of poverty and systemic racism.”
Corporations must engage with their communities to understand how they impact the social determinants of health and structural inequalities. Furthermore, they must acknowledge their influential role in addressing these issues. Some companies, such as Deloitte, have recognized the need for "business to take bold action now." Even Major League Baseball has taken a stand; MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred stated, "We proudly used our platform to encourage baseball fans and communities throughout our country to perform their civic duty..."
The MLB's decision to move the 2021 All-Star Game and Draft from Atlanta represents a direct expense to MLB, which they were willing to absorb to "express their dissatisfaction with [Georgia's] laws." Cecilia Rouse, the Chair of President Biden's Council of Economic Advisers, acknowledged there "will undoubtedly be a cost" to Atlanta's economy estimated to be $100-190 million dollars. However, that economic stimulus is only lost to Georgia; the league will relocate the game to another city, benefiting a different group of workers, and supporting an economy whose values more closely align with their own. "That is exactly the message [MLB] was trying to send," Rouse said.
Until recently, the private sector has been largely absent. Taking a public position is just a start. "Demanding our corporations behave as well as any good citizen, is not only reasonable, it is necessary," says Maren Costa, Principal Lead Designer in Microsoft's Design, Experiences & Devices Group.
Companies must put their money where their mouth is and invest or donate capital to support and develop the equity and social justice necessary to ameliorate the social determinants of health. The public sector is still poorly funded or uncoordinated and lacks the impact of collaboration, integration, and support from corporate entities. We must collaborate to effect a paradigm shift that can have broad consequences in improving health outcomes and lowering health costs. The private sector must step up to the plate. Social justice is everyone's business.
Thursday, May 12, 2022
37. Social Justice Is Everyone's Business
Sunday, September 30, 2018
38. I’m Mad As Hell, and I’m Not Going To Take It Anymore
When I got the message about making a black square for my profile, I thought it would be cool to see all the black squares on Facebook representing pissed off women, but I never agreed to be silent. I agree that silence is a mistake. Now I’ve read this response and I feel conflicted about having passed on the message. As if “the patriarchy” didn’t know women were pissed off.
I don’t think a black square will make a difference. But dammit I’m mad as hell! And I’m not going to stop talking about it. Women shouldn’t be quiet - we should go on strike! We should scream and scream and scream until we are heard.
Some religious figure recently said that if a woman doesn’t scream, then it’s not rape. First of all, you gotta be kidding me. Have you ever been afraid for your life while someone bigger and stronger than you overpowered you and did things to you that you didn’t want? It’s terrifying. Some women fight back with everything they have and would rather die trying to escape than submit. Other women submit in hopes of survival. Neither is wrong.
When I was raped 30+ years ago, it was very much like what Dr. Ford described, only in my case, no one else was in the room, and he didn’t stop. And I didn’t scream at all, at that time, because I was so frightened all I could do was lie there and keep my eyes closed. To be fair, I was 14 and I had snuck out of the house to go to a party I wasn’t supposed to be at. I wasn’t prepared for what happened and I didn’t know what to do during or after. And for the record, I said no, and it didn’t make a damn bit of difference. And I bet that just like Kavanaugh, the boy in question doesn’t remember a thing. But I know he knew it was rape at the time, because he intentionally gaslit me after the fact to cover his trail. I mean, why would he do that if he didn’t think on some level that what he had done was wrong or needed to be obfuscated?
To say that Dr. Ford’s testimony and the extenuating circumstances in which we now find ourselves as a society and a country has been a triggering event for me is an understatement. A friend asked me what I wanted to do about it, and I said I wanted to make it meaningful. The truth is, I want to scream. I want to scream for all women until we are heard.
Sexual assault isn’t hard to understand. If you touched a woman and you weren’t 100% sure she wanted you to touch her, that could have been an assault. If thinking about that makes you uncomfortable and uncertain, it should; imagine how she felt. Next time, be sure. Ask her. Nothing is sexier than consent.
Someone on my feed said she rolled her eyes every time she saw a political post. I wanted to shake her! How can you not be enraged? I suppose the only alternative to feeling disenfranchised and helpless is to look away. Especially when all the screaming in the world seems to make no difference.
Kavanaugh will be confirmed and it’ll be business as usual until the next outrage. Why should I care? Because I want a world where women don’t have to constantly alter their behavior to avoid being raped. Because I want my friend’s baby daughter to have better options than I did. Because I want women to report abuse and to be believed when they do. Because I don’t want revenge as much as I want equality. Because I want women to be seen and heard and taken seriously.
And my square is black on the outside, because black is how I feel on the inside.
This is why so many women are mad. Women like me, like Dr. Ford, like all women who have been verbally or physically assaulted, who had to put a lid on that memory and just keep putting one foot in front of another to survive, because no one was going to do a damn thing about what happened to us. Women who had their lives ruined, their reputations trashed, their livelihoods taken ... on top of being abused, because gaslighting is a great defense! No wonder women don’t want to speak out. Dr. Ford is my hero, because she knew what would happen, and she did it anyway. She did it for us, for our daughters.
Almost every woman I know has some kind of story about something that happened to her. But just because it’s common doesn’t mean it’s normal or okay. Alternative Facts Barbie (Kellyanne Conway) spewing that nonsense has got to be the most Black Mirror thing that I’ve read this week.
When things unfold like this Kavanaugh/Ford drama (or the Cosby drama, or the Weinstein drama, etc etc etc), it makes us remember what we’d rather not think about. It makes us uncomfortable. And we get mad because it shouldn’t have happened. And nobody protected us. And stupid entitled boys got away with doing horrible things to us. And we don’t want revenge so much as we want justice, we want the world to be a better place for women now, and our daughters in the future. And dammit, for men, and for our sons too.
I’m sorry for what Dr. Ford and other women have had to endure. It’s not right and it’s not fair and I’m struggling with finding a way to process my feelings. I’m supposed to be on vacation and instead it’s 4am and I’m crying. I think I understand why I’m so goddamn angry. It’s like our government isn’t just saying that what happened to us doesn’t matter, they’re saying we shouldn’t even be upset about it having happened to begin with. It feels like our government is sanctioning rape.
This week, 50% of women are collectively re-experiencing a trauma. It’s been tough for all of us who weren’t believed or who were afraid we wouldn’t be, and even for those who obtained a modicum of justice. The fact that this is playing out on a national stage is a big deal for a lot of women. What are we going to do about it?
https://www.forbes.com/sites/allysonkapin/2018/09/30/the-female-blackout-is-spam-and-erases-women/#254c084b5da6
#metoo
I don’t think a black square will make a difference. But dammit I’m mad as hell! And I’m not going to stop talking about it. Women shouldn’t be quiet - we should go on strike! We should scream and scream and scream until we are heard.
Some religious figure recently said that if a woman doesn’t scream, then it’s not rape. First of all, you gotta be kidding me. Have you ever been afraid for your life while someone bigger and stronger than you overpowered you and did things to you that you didn’t want? It’s terrifying. Some women fight back with everything they have and would rather die trying to escape than submit. Other women submit in hopes of survival. Neither is wrong.
When I was raped 30+ years ago, it was very much like what Dr. Ford described, only in my case, no one else was in the room, and he didn’t stop. And I didn’t scream at all, at that time, because I was so frightened all I could do was lie there and keep my eyes closed. To be fair, I was 14 and I had snuck out of the house to go to a party I wasn’t supposed to be at. I wasn’t prepared for what happened and I didn’t know what to do during or after. And for the record, I said no, and it didn’t make a damn bit of difference. And I bet that just like Kavanaugh, the boy in question doesn’t remember a thing. But I know he knew it was rape at the time, because he intentionally gaslit me after the fact to cover his trail. I mean, why would he do that if he didn’t think on some level that what he had done was wrong or needed to be obfuscated?
To say that Dr. Ford’s testimony and the extenuating circumstances in which we now find ourselves as a society and a country has been a triggering event for me is an understatement. A friend asked me what I wanted to do about it, and I said I wanted to make it meaningful. The truth is, I want to scream. I want to scream for all women until we are heard.
Sexual assault isn’t hard to understand. If you touched a woman and you weren’t 100% sure she wanted you to touch her, that could have been an assault. If thinking about that makes you uncomfortable and uncertain, it should; imagine how she felt. Next time, be sure. Ask her. Nothing is sexier than consent.
Someone on my feed said she rolled her eyes every time she saw a political post. I wanted to shake her! How can you not be enraged? I suppose the only alternative to feeling disenfranchised and helpless is to look away. Especially when all the screaming in the world seems to make no difference.
Kavanaugh will be confirmed and it’ll be business as usual until the next outrage. Why should I care? Because I want a world where women don’t have to constantly alter their behavior to avoid being raped. Because I want my friend’s baby daughter to have better options than I did. Because I want women to report abuse and to be believed when they do. Because I don’t want revenge as much as I want equality. Because I want women to be seen and heard and taken seriously.
And my square is black on the outside, because black is how I feel on the inside.
This is why so many women are mad. Women like me, like Dr. Ford, like all women who have been verbally or physically assaulted, who had to put a lid on that memory and just keep putting one foot in front of another to survive, because no one was going to do a damn thing about what happened to us. Women who had their lives ruined, their reputations trashed, their livelihoods taken ... on top of being abused, because gaslighting is a great defense! No wonder women don’t want to speak out. Dr. Ford is my hero, because she knew what would happen, and she did it anyway. She did it for us, for our daughters.
Almost every woman I know has some kind of story about something that happened to her. But just because it’s common doesn’t mean it’s normal or okay. Alternative Facts Barbie (Kellyanne Conway) spewing that nonsense has got to be the most Black Mirror thing that I’ve read this week.
When things unfold like this Kavanaugh/Ford drama (or the Cosby drama, or the Weinstein drama, etc etc etc), it makes us remember what we’d rather not think about. It makes us uncomfortable. And we get mad because it shouldn’t have happened. And nobody protected us. And stupid entitled boys got away with doing horrible things to us. And we don’t want revenge so much as we want justice, we want the world to be a better place for women now, and our daughters in the future. And dammit, for men, and for our sons too.
I’m sorry for what Dr. Ford and other women have had to endure. It’s not right and it’s not fair and I’m struggling with finding a way to process my feelings. I’m supposed to be on vacation and instead it’s 4am and I’m crying. I think I understand why I’m so goddamn angry. It’s like our government isn’t just saying that what happened to us doesn’t matter, they’re saying we shouldn’t even be upset about it having happened to begin with. It feels like our government is sanctioning rape.
This week, 50% of women are collectively re-experiencing a trauma. It’s been tough for all of us who weren’t believed or who were afraid we wouldn’t be, and even for those who obtained a modicum of justice. The fact that this is playing out on a national stage is a big deal for a lot of women. What are we going to do about it?
https://www.forbes.com/sites/allysonkapin/2018/09/30/the-female-blackout-is-spam-and-erases-women/#254c084b5da6
#metoo
Monday, February 12, 2018
36.Culturally Sensistive
Back in August, I was walking my dog, when I saw big fancy new black car came up my street. The two men inside were wearing kufiyehs and white suits with sunglasses. Since it was not Halloween, and I am a stupid Westerner, I became concerned when they pulled over to me. But they were laughing and smiling as they rolled down the window. I thought maybe they were lost, but they politely explained that it was a holy Muslim holiday and they offered me my choice from a fancy box of chocolates. I have to admit my ignorance here because I knew Eid was coming (thank you , Facebook) but I didn't know what it was (the reverse of Halloween, apparently, where strangers offer you candy on the street), and I am embarrassed to admit I was afraid to take a piece of chocolate from a stranger. Mom's teachings run deep...but why exactly was I nervous?
I politely declined and said I was allergic (hey, there might have been wheat in there!), but I could see they were a little disappointed. The box was almost empty, they had already given much away. I thanked them, said I knew it was Eid, but that I didn't know what to say to them. They told me to say "Happy Eid," so I did, and they laughed and drove off. They actually appeared to be nice young men and I feel ashamed to have mistrusted them.
Reflecting on this as I walked home, I realize I would have been equally distrustful of any person suddenly offering me sweets for no apparent reason in the middle of the street. But in my ignorance, I did not know there was actually a reason, and now I feel like my trepidation caused me to miss out on something special. We are all so consumed with the fear-mongering purported on the news about some Muslims who do bad things in the name of their beliefs, I really felt compelled to share a story of Muslims who did something extraordinary and nice in the name of the same beliefs...and how I screwed it up with the fear I've learned to feel for my fellow man.
If I had been less ignorant of the meaning of Eid, I would have celebrated with them. Western religious traditions are rammed down the throats of Americans, but I know little to nothing about Eastern traditions. I am committed to enhancing my own diversity and I hope you will join me. You probably know I'm an atheist, so this is not a dogmatic transformation, but rather a way I can continue to respect people and cultures and their beliefs by redressing my own ignorance. I hope you will join me. An to all my Muslim friends, I wish you a joyous and happy Eid this August.
I politely declined and said I was allergic (hey, there might have been wheat in there!), but I could see they were a little disappointed. The box was almost empty, they had already given much away. I thanked them, said I knew it was Eid, but that I didn't know what to say to them. They told me to say "Happy Eid," so I did, and they laughed and drove off. They actually appeared to be nice young men and I feel ashamed to have mistrusted them.
Reflecting on this as I walked home, I realize I would have been equally distrustful of any person suddenly offering me sweets for no apparent reason in the middle of the street. But in my ignorance, I did not know there was actually a reason, and now I feel like my trepidation caused me to miss out on something special. We are all so consumed with the fear-mongering purported on the news about some Muslims who do bad things in the name of their beliefs, I really felt compelled to share a story of Muslims who did something extraordinary and nice in the name of the same beliefs...and how I screwed it up with the fear I've learned to feel for my fellow man.
If I had been less ignorant of the meaning of Eid, I would have celebrated with them. Western religious traditions are rammed down the throats of Americans, but I know little to nothing about Eastern traditions. I am committed to enhancing my own diversity and I hope you will join me. You probably know I'm an atheist, so this is not a dogmatic transformation, but rather a way I can continue to respect people and cultures and their beliefs by redressing my own ignorance. I hope you will join me. An to all my Muslim friends, I wish you a joyous and happy Eid this August.
35. Obituary
This is my father (John Snyder, aka Yannis Kokinakos) in a portrait taken to commemorate his graduation as an Officer in the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1942. Below, his plane and crew (he is second from left, the guy in the center was wearing Dad's hat as a lark).
Dad was Captain of a Lancaster bomber in WWII, stationed in England. He flew 31 missions over Germany, including one where he was wounded by exploding antiaircraft rounds that left him with shrapnel embedded in his leg for the rest of his life, and another one where the engines caught fire on take-off and he managed to drop the bombs in the Channel and return, land the plane (on fire) safely without endangering the base and saving his 9-man crew. He was 19 when he went to war, and 89 when he left this life. I took him to a Veterans Day banquet in 2007, he was the only WWII veteran there. Everyone treated him like a living legend, a hero, a precious historical relic. It was great to see him get some recognition, because my Dad flew in the RCAF, and because he became an American citizen in 1954, he had to relinquish any Veterans benefits from Canada. My entire life, people acted like his service was 2nd class because he served for another country's military, as if Canada, which fought with the English Air Force long before American had even joined the war, wasn't equal to the US. For a man who was very proud of his service, that must have been hard, to be left out.
I think of my father on Veterans' Day, and also on his birth/death days. I think he would be proud of the woman I've become. He was a tenacious son of a bitch who, as a lifelong scientist (BS in Organic Chemistry from UBC, Vancouver; Master's in Chemistry from University of Bonn, Germany; and PhD in Chemistry from McGill) taught me respect for science, which led to my interest in physical sciences, including nursing.
1972
He passed away on May 20, 2010.
I miss him often. It took me about a year to stop picking up the phone and dialing his number, only to be very perplexed at the "disconnected" message. This week we face another anniversary of his passing. He wanted to live to be 100, and he lived a healthy lifestyle. He was very much an outdoorsman and a John Muir or John James Audubon type of naturalist. He took us camping and hiking throughout our childhoods. He even climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro at the age of 69. Every day, I notice his influence in my life; he would have been thrilled to see me become a nurse.
2007
2007, with my sister
He taught us a lot of silly and/or bawdy songs from the 40's, including his favorites from The Andrews Sisters, and this little gem, a Gilbert & Sullivan parody about his profession:
When I was a lad, I served my term
As beaker boy in a Chemist's firm
I washed all the bottles and I cleaned all the flasks
And I did a lot of other silly, menial tasks.
I washed all the bottles so carefully
That now I am a member of the CIC
So chemists, all, take a lesson from me
If you want to be proficient in Chemistry,
Just be careful to be guided by this Golden Rule
And never never never never go to school!
When I think of my father's grit and determination, I am reminded of that quote we hear (mis)attributed to Winston Churchill, "If you're going through hell, keep going!"
This quote has been particularly inspirational to me. It reminds me not to give up when things don’t go my way. Never has it had more meaning for me than the last few years. My father, who was a bomber pilot during World War Two, passed away in 2010. I miss him so much. He would have been proud of my decision to become a nurse. He would have relished discussing my classes and celebrated my grades. I wish he could have seen me graduate. He was always very supportive and encouraged me to be strong despite whatever obstacles I was facing.
I needed that strength when he passed, but I drew upon it even more a year later when I lost my child. To lose one’s only parent and one’s only child within a year is a grief I would categorize as going through hell. All I could do was try to keep breathing, try to keep moving forward through the pain, and these words helped me believe that someday there would be a time when I didn’t think about their loss every single day.
And then I got laid off from my job. As if losing my family wasn’t bad enough, now I’d lost my means of support. I turned to these words, and I realized there was nothing to do but keep going.
I made the decision to pursue an education and I continue to be inspired by these words when I feel overwhelmed by juggling college responsibilities as a 40-plus woman and grappling with my grief. I feel rewarded, and I am so glad I have never given up.
I was surprised to discover that true author of this quote is unknown. It is misattributed to Winston Churchill, who was Prime Minister of England during WWII. According to Finest Hour, the journal of Churchill scholars, this quote is unverifiable as being his, despite its popularity on the internet.
However, knowing this does not make the words less vital to me, as it is in the dark times that we most need to keep going, and anything that helps me do that is something I will keep.
There are so many great Dad stories. Today, I am sad that there won't be any new ones.
34. Words of Wisdom
A young man turned 20 today. He asked, now that he's no longer a teen, will he still find immature things funny and interesting? He commented on overcoming the break-up of his first relationship (2 years in duration) and how he spent the last year recovering, and wondered if this was what adult life was going to be like. This was my response...and I guess I feel like it's true for any age, and I wish I'd understood it at 20 (would've saved me a lot of time being miserable for no reason):
Dear (X): I'm 43 and I still find immature things amusing. I just don't make life choices based on them. People still break my heart but I know that I'll be okay. Life is pretty good. The important thing to know in order to be as happy as possible is this: shit falls on everyone. Whatever crappy thing that happens - and it will happen - just know that it may not be your fault, but it is your problem to solve. Sometimes we have to put on our big-kid panties and solve it. Nobody is going to fix it for you. This might sound depressing, but to me it was actually very empowering. It enabled me to transcend the tragedies that inevitably befell me in life, overcome obstacles in my path, and generally kick the ass of life to become a happy, successful, human being. For your 20th birthday, I would wish for you to grasp and internalize this concept, for your own future happiness. Enjoy the pleasures and happiness in life, for they are transient...and know this: that troubles and sorrow are also transient, and will pass, and you will be happy again soon.
33. Have A Nice Trip
Part One: The Trip to Portland
C decided to have a booth at the One Moto Show in Portland, and I agreed to help him in the booth selling T-Shirts. However, I had a hell of a week to get through first, since I work the night shift as a bedside nurse in the hospital, and I've been fighting an upper respiratory infection (not the flu). I got out of work late and didn’t get home until 9:30 AM. I only got four hours sleep before I had to get up and pack to leave for Portland... not a good way to start. By the time I was actually able to leave, it was rush hour on a Friday and I sat in traffic all the way through Seattle and Tacoma.
I pulled over to get gas, and as I saw the KFC next door, I realized I was hungry. I indulged in some friend chicken for the road. As I took the first bite, I realized I forgot my antibiotics (which I've been taking with meals) at home. OK, don’t panic. I found a Walgreens ahead of my location, and I called them for help. Walgreens said they had to get the doctor to authorize a new prescription, but by this time it was already 8 o'clock and the clinic was closed. The pharmacist put in a call to whoever was on call, and I went ahead and stopped at the Walgreens location with my fingers crossed.
Meanwhile, after three bites of food, I had decided the KFC was a very bad choice, and when I arrived at the Walgreens I decided to throw it all away on my way into the store. I finally arrived at the pharmacy, and the pharmacist said I was out of luck, the clinic's on-call doctor had not called back; I would have to try again in the morning in Portland. I had picked up an orange juice, and when I went to pay for it, I realized I couldn’t find my wallet. I went to car and it wasn’t there, and it took me a while to figure out that I had accidentally thrown it in the garbage can when I threw away the KFC.
So there I was, digging through a public garbage can in front of the Walgreens in south Tacoma to find my wallet. It was revolting and disgusting, but at least I did find my wallet, covered in some gross ketchup from someone else's unfortunate fast food choices. I went back inside Walgreens to clean up, paid for my juice, and finally got back on the road...
Just then, I realized that I do not know if I let the goddamn cats out of the bedroom or not. What am I talking about, you may ask? Well if any of you have pets, then you know they have a sixth sense about when you are leaving the house, and they take that opportunity to escape. In order to avoid that, I had "safely" secured the cats in the bedroom while I loaded up the car. Now here I am somewhere around Centralia, and I have no memory of letting the cats out of the bedroom before leaving. Let’s pretend they could survive two days locked up with no food or water in the bedroom, at the very least they are going to piss and shit all over the place without access to their litter box! What have I done? I wracked my brain trying to recall, but it was a blank... too much Robitussin, I guess.
At this point I broke down crying, and try to think of who I could impose upon at 9:00pm on a Friday night to go over to my house and figure out what I have done with my cats. I have to say I am blessed beyond belief to have been able to impose upon the very kind JT, C's friend, who lives near me. JT went over to our house, located the spare key, went into the house, shut off the alarm, and discovered that I had indeed left my babies locked up in the bedroom! What a terrible mother I am. He was able to rescue them, reset the alarm, and make everything right with my world. How could I have gone off and left them like that? I swear I think I’m losing my mind. Please laugh at me because I deserve it. On the plus side, by this time I am now almost to Vancouver, so at least my drive down has been entertaining. And I have used up all my bad luck, so now the rest of the weekend is going to be awesome, right! Stay tuned, true believers...
Part Three: The Trip Back to Seattle
Awesome (the van) was full, and my car was full, and we wound up having to strap the ladder to the roof of my car. Okay, no problem. We stopped at Target to buy three vital items (bungee cords, Extra Strength Tylenol, and a couple lattes) and we were on our way back to Seattle just as the sun was setting. We made it just past Kelso before the drama really began... I was speeding ahead when I got a call from C to pull off and wait for him; he’d hit a bump in the road and somehow lost his headlights. He was driving up the off ramp in the dark when he hit another bump and the lights came back on. We looked under the hood but couldn’t find anything wrong. We decided I would follow him in case of any other incidents.
We continued uneventfully to south Seattle, when C changed lanes to the right without signaling. I wasn’t able to correct my course enough to follow, due to other cars, but since we were practically home, I wasn’t concerned. He phoned me to come back; he’d run out of gas. We were so tired, he hadn’t paid attention to the gauge. All right, no problem, stay where you are. I took the next exit. Little did I know, it didn’t go anywhere. I wound up lost in some neighborhood. I was able to pull over and get oriented with my GPS, and I followed it down to a nearby main road...where there were two closed gas stations. Yeah, I was in a neighborhood that was so shitty, the gas stations close when the sun sets. Crap.
Finally, I found one that was open, parked my car, went in and bought a gas can. Walked over to the pumps and started to fill it up. Apparently that was a cue for some skeevy guy to creep on me. “Hey baby what you doin’ out here? Lemme help you!” Okay, this guy was offering to help me with something, but it was clear from his suggestive tone and overly familiar language that it wasn’t help with getting gas that he had in mind. And I didn’t need help. Thanks, but no thanks. My gas tank was also empty, but as I was filling it, a drunk homeless person cornered me against the car demanding money. I stopped pumping after just 3 gallons, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for helping people, but I was feeling unsafe. I called C to figure out precisely where he was, and I booked it over there.
When I arrived on the scene, I could see that C was on the outside shoulder, stuck up against a guard rail, and the shoulder was very narrow; cars and trucks were whizzing past at 70 mph one inch from the driver’s side car door. And honking at us, as if we had decided to just have a picnic by the side of the road, instead of being stranded motorists. I pulled up and passed him the gas can through the passenger window, but his gas tank was on the side of the van where the traffic was. He was literally standing in the outside lane of the freeway dodging cars like Frogger to get the bloody gas in the van. I was shaking with fear that he could be hit. Well, he got enough gas in the tank to get the hell out of there, so we proceeded North two exits to Michigan/Corson where there is a Shell station.
While C filled up the van's tank, I finished tanking up my Subaru. I was literally trembling with stress and feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, on the verge of tears. He kept apologizing, and I kept saying it’s no big deal, we’ve got each other’s backs, everything is okay, let’s just get home. We kissed and jumped in our cars and drove off. I made it only five feet, since that’s the length of the gasoline hose that was still in my gas tank.
Yes, I did that. I drove off with the gas nozzle still in my car, and yes, I ripped it off the pump. C saw me stop and he came back. My car wasn’t damaged. I pulled into a parking spot and went into the store to confess. The attendant was obviously not pleased. He said I was going to have to pay for it (duh, that’s why I came in), and he was demanding my drivers' license and car insurance. I went out to my car to get my wallet, and I couldn’t find my car keys. Luckily, my car can’t lock with the keys inside, but I still couldn’t find the damn things. And that was the last straw. The dam burst and I started crying. Like, hysterically.
I went back in and gave the attendant my information and I asked if we could please please please just deal with this the following day. He took one look at me and said he’d have his boss call me, he took my information down and I left. Then I went back to try and find the keys. They were in between my seat and the center console. I just sat there for a minute and tried to calm down, please I don’t need any more screw ups.
We managed to get home.
The cats were alive and the house was unmolested (Thanks JT).
Then the latch for the back door to the van broke off when C opened it to get the gas can out.
ENOUGH!! I’m done with this day!
Thank goodness we have massages booked on Monday... after which, I get to go buy a broken gas pump in south Seattle (note: it wound up being a $175 charge; sucks, but not too bad).
Part Four: The Moral of the Story
The moral of the story is, shit happens. Mistakes get made. We are human! I'm not perfect. I present these stories as a cautionary tale, and to entertain (I hope you laughed at my misfortune, because I sure did - the next day).
We have to remember:
1. Don't sweat the small stuff, and,
2. It's all small stuff.
3. What do you have to be grateful for? Focusing on the positive always helps mitigate anything negative.
Today, I’m thankful for:
1. We get to make a living doing something we love!
2. We made it home with no one getting hurt.
3. I have a good man who can roll with the punches.
4. I have wonderful friends who’ve got my back and on whom I can depend when I'm in a pinch.
5. We had a great show in Portland, even if the trip down & back was fraught with “adventures.”
6. I have a warm home and a nice bed to sleep in and the love of a wonderful life partner.
Good night, y’all
C decided to have a booth at the One Moto Show in Portland, and I agreed to help him in the booth selling T-Shirts. However, I had a hell of a week to get through first, since I work the night shift as a bedside nurse in the hospital, and I've been fighting an upper respiratory infection (not the flu). I got out of work late and didn’t get home until 9:30 AM. I only got four hours sleep before I had to get up and pack to leave for Portland... not a good way to start. By the time I was actually able to leave, it was rush hour on a Friday and I sat in traffic all the way through Seattle and Tacoma.
I pulled over to get gas, and as I saw the KFC next door, I realized I was hungry. I indulged in some friend chicken for the road. As I took the first bite, I realized I forgot my antibiotics (which I've been taking with meals) at home. OK, don’t panic. I found a Walgreens ahead of my location, and I called them for help. Walgreens said they had to get the doctor to authorize a new prescription, but by this time it was already 8 o'clock and the clinic was closed. The pharmacist put in a call to whoever was on call, and I went ahead and stopped at the Walgreens location with my fingers crossed.
Meanwhile, after three bites of food, I had decided the KFC was a very bad choice, and when I arrived at the Walgreens I decided to throw it all away on my way into the store. I finally arrived at the pharmacy, and the pharmacist said I was out of luck, the clinic's on-call doctor had not called back; I would have to try again in the morning in Portland. I had picked up an orange juice, and when I went to pay for it, I realized I couldn’t find my wallet. I went to car and it wasn’t there, and it took me a while to figure out that I had accidentally thrown it in the garbage can when I threw away the KFC.
So there I was, digging through a public garbage can in front of the Walgreens in south Tacoma to find my wallet. It was revolting and disgusting, but at least I did find my wallet, covered in some gross ketchup from someone else's unfortunate fast food choices. I went back inside Walgreens to clean up, paid for my juice, and finally got back on the road...
Just then, I realized that I do not know if I let the goddamn cats out of the bedroom or not. What am I talking about, you may ask? Well if any of you have pets, then you know they have a sixth sense about when you are leaving the house, and they take that opportunity to escape. In order to avoid that, I had "safely" secured the cats in the bedroom while I loaded up the car. Now here I am somewhere around Centralia, and I have no memory of letting the cats out of the bedroom before leaving. Let’s pretend they could survive two days locked up with no food or water in the bedroom, at the very least they are going to piss and shit all over the place without access to their litter box! What have I done? I wracked my brain trying to recall, but it was a blank... too much Robitussin, I guess.
At this point I broke down crying, and try to think of who I could impose upon at 9:00pm on a Friday night to go over to my house and figure out what I have done with my cats. I have to say I am blessed beyond belief to have been able to impose upon the very kind JT, C's friend, who lives near me. JT went over to our house, located the spare key, went into the house, shut off the alarm, and discovered that I had indeed left my babies locked up in the bedroom! What a terrible mother I am. He was able to rescue them, reset the alarm, and make everything right with my world. How could I have gone off and left them like that? I swear I think I’m losing my mind. Please laugh at me because I deserve it. On the plus side, by this time I am now almost to Vancouver, so at least my drive down has been entertaining. And I have used up all my bad luck, so now the rest of the weekend is going to be awesome, right! Stay tuned, true believers...
Part Two: The Show
The show was great! Long hours on our feet, but great nevertheless.
 |
| The Booth, with the lovely Little Red |
...and a good time was had by all. Especially C, who managed to finally acquire his dream bike, a '74 Montesa similar to the one pictured here:
Part Three: The Trip Back to Seattle
WOW. Loading out the show was a lot of work. And, even though we sold a lot of shirts, we were returning with more stuff than what we came with, since C acquired his dream Montesa. Due to the rule I have established that motorcycle acquisition must be kept at a par number (moto in = moto out), hopefully he will be selling one soon, because where are we putting the newest addition? I don’t know, the living room? Everything is full.
We continued uneventfully to south Seattle, when C changed lanes to the right without signaling. I wasn’t able to correct my course enough to follow, due to other cars, but since we were practically home, I wasn’t concerned. He phoned me to come back; he’d run out of gas. We were so tired, he hadn’t paid attention to the gauge. All right, no problem, stay where you are. I took the next exit. Little did I know, it didn’t go anywhere. I wound up lost in some neighborhood. I was able to pull over and get oriented with my GPS, and I followed it down to a nearby main road...where there were two closed gas stations. Yeah, I was in a neighborhood that was so shitty, the gas stations close when the sun sets. Crap.
Finally, I found one that was open, parked my car, went in and bought a gas can. Walked over to the pumps and started to fill it up. Apparently that was a cue for some skeevy guy to creep on me. “Hey baby what you doin’ out here? Lemme help you!” Okay, this guy was offering to help me with something, but it was clear from his suggestive tone and overly familiar language that it wasn’t help with getting gas that he had in mind. And I didn’t need help. Thanks, but no thanks. My gas tank was also empty, but as I was filling it, a drunk homeless person cornered me against the car demanding money. I stopped pumping after just 3 gallons, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for helping people, but I was feeling unsafe. I called C to figure out precisely where he was, and I booked it over there.
When I arrived on the scene, I could see that C was on the outside shoulder, stuck up against a guard rail, and the shoulder was very narrow; cars and trucks were whizzing past at 70 mph one inch from the driver’s side car door. And honking at us, as if we had decided to just have a picnic by the side of the road, instead of being stranded motorists. I pulled up and passed him the gas can through the passenger window, but his gas tank was on the side of the van where the traffic was. He was literally standing in the outside lane of the freeway dodging cars like Frogger to get the bloody gas in the van. I was shaking with fear that he could be hit. Well, he got enough gas in the tank to get the hell out of there, so we proceeded North two exits to Michigan/Corson where there is a Shell station.
While C filled up the van's tank, I finished tanking up my Subaru. I was literally trembling with stress and feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, on the verge of tears. He kept apologizing, and I kept saying it’s no big deal, we’ve got each other’s backs, everything is okay, let’s just get home. We kissed and jumped in our cars and drove off. I made it only five feet, since that’s the length of the gasoline hose that was still in my gas tank.
Yes, I did that. I drove off with the gas nozzle still in my car, and yes, I ripped it off the pump. C saw me stop and he came back. My car wasn’t damaged. I pulled into a parking spot and went into the store to confess. The attendant was obviously not pleased. He said I was going to have to pay for it (duh, that’s why I came in), and he was demanding my drivers' license and car insurance. I went out to my car to get my wallet, and I couldn’t find my car keys. Luckily, my car can’t lock with the keys inside, but I still couldn’t find the damn things. And that was the last straw. The dam burst and I started crying. Like, hysterically.
I went back in and gave the attendant my information and I asked if we could please please please just deal with this the following day. He took one look at me and said he’d have his boss call me, he took my information down and I left. Then I went back to try and find the keys. They were in between my seat and the center console. I just sat there for a minute and tried to calm down, please I don’t need any more screw ups.
We managed to get home.
The cats were alive and the house was unmolested (Thanks JT).
Then the latch for the back door to the van broke off when C opened it to get the gas can out.
ENOUGH!! I’m done with this day!
Thank goodness we have massages booked on Monday... after which, I get to go buy a broken gas pump in south Seattle (note: it wound up being a $175 charge; sucks, but not too bad).
Part Four: The Moral of the Story
The moral of the story is, shit happens. Mistakes get made. We are human! I'm not perfect. I present these stories as a cautionary tale, and to entertain (I hope you laughed at my misfortune, because I sure did - the next day).
We have to remember:
1. Don't sweat the small stuff, and,
2. It's all small stuff.
3. What do you have to be grateful for? Focusing on the positive always helps mitigate anything negative.
Today, I’m thankful for:
1. We get to make a living doing something we love!
2. We made it home with no one getting hurt.
3. I have a good man who can roll with the punches.
4. I have wonderful friends who’ve got my back and on whom I can depend when I'm in a pinch.
5. We had a great show in Portland, even if the trip down & back was fraught with “adventures.”
6. I have a warm home and a nice bed to sleep in and the love of a wonderful life partner.
Good night, y’all
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
31. Celebration Time, Come On!
I am Jack's sense of pride in accomplishment.
I decided to look at the disaster as an opportunity; the slate had been wiped clean, but I was not quite 40... what was I going to do for the second act? Who was I going to be? I could do anything, nothing was holding me back. I decided that it's never to late to get up, pull up your big girl pants, and figure out how to kick some proverbial ass.
I decided on nursing school because if I was going to work hard for something, I wanted my efforts to be meaningful. With no family, I wanted the chance to make a difference in people's lives and feel connected to a purpose. It was not easy to commit, I had to accept that to pursue college full time for five years at my age meant that I was essentially saying goodbye to my fertility and the chance to have a child. Luckily any time I feel maternal I have many special young women in my life now that I can mentor.
I decided that no matter what, nothing was going to stop me. I put forth 100% effort and commitment to school. Nobody was more surprised than me to see what I could do! I made only one B+ in all 5 years, every other grade was an A. The experience of succeeding in school helped me rebuild my shattered confidence. As more successes piled up, my Joie de vivre gradually returned. I rediscovered my self and began to take pleasure in life again. Even being diagnosed with Crohn's disease earlier this year has not been so bad because well it wasn't a new condition, just a new name and a better treatment plan. So, it was actually a positive thing because now I can get the care I need.
Now that five years commitment i made is over. Today is the last day of the last class. In all, it has taken me 27 years to complete a Bachelors degree. I couldn't be more proud. But I also recognize the part that tragedy has played in motivating me, and the people without whom I would not have made it.
One more wonderful thing. After being certain I was just destined to be alone, I finally found someone who shows me what love really is. C and I will celebrate a year together next month. You know how people say when you meet the right person, you just know? Yeah it's like that. He's the real deal, and I'm gonna keep him around permanently.
It feels like I've come full circle, I've gone from all the bad things happening at once to all the good things happening... graduation, true love, my 45th birthday in three weeks, real sustained happiness and contentment I have never before known.
The cavalry arrived, indeed.
A friend once quipped that she had never known me not in a state of disaster. It took me YEARS to recover, but here I am. Proof that you only truly lose when you give up trying. If you fall down, you just have to keep getting up again and again ... and again. I'm looking forward to demonstrating - and finding out for myself - what stability is like. No more hot mess!
At least, not until grad school....!!!
My most profound gratitude on this day to everyone who helped me every step of the way. Now, stand back and watch me fly!!!
If you've been following along, you'd know that from 2007-2011, my life went through a series of changes that left me reeling. I ended 5 years of travel - working on cruise ships - and relocated to Seattle, just in time for the economic crisis that left me unemployed for 18 months. I lost both my parents and my last remaining grandparent. When I did finally get a job, I was laid off in less than a year twice in succession. I got married, bought a... house, and got pregnant only to see it all fall tragically apart from domestic violence and mental illness. My child died. I was an absolute wreck. I felt suicidal because I had lost pretty much everything over the course of a few short years and I just felt so much grief that I couldn't function. A few things saved me: I had learned the difference between my feelings and my reactions to my feelings, and I knew that while nothing that happened had been my fault, it was certainly my problem to deal with. I struggled trying to figure out just how to do that. Luckily I was not alone. I have been so grateful for some good friends who saw me through the most difficult parts of my life, they supported me and listened and gave advice and helped me believe that there could be a future.
I decided to look at the disaster as an opportunity; the slate had been wiped clean, but I was not quite 40... what was I going to do for the second act? Who was I going to be? I could do anything, nothing was holding me back. I decided that it's never to late to get up, pull up your big girl pants, and figure out how to kick some proverbial ass.
I decided on nursing school because if I was going to work hard for something, I wanted my efforts to be meaningful. With no family, I wanted the chance to make a difference in people's lives and feel connected to a purpose. It was not easy to commit, I had to accept that to pursue college full time for five years at my age meant that I was essentially saying goodbye to my fertility and the chance to have a child. Luckily any time I feel maternal I have many special young women in my life now that I can mentor.
I decided that no matter what, nothing was going to stop me. I put forth 100% effort and commitment to school. Nobody was more surprised than me to see what I could do! I made only one B+ in all 5 years, every other grade was an A. The experience of succeeding in school helped me rebuild my shattered confidence. As more successes piled up, my Joie de vivre gradually returned. I rediscovered my self and began to take pleasure in life again. Even being diagnosed with Crohn's disease earlier this year has not been so bad because well it wasn't a new condition, just a new name and a better treatment plan. So, it was actually a positive thing because now I can get the care I need.
Now that five years commitment i made is over. Today is the last day of the last class. In all, it has taken me 27 years to complete a Bachelors degree. I couldn't be more proud. But I also recognize the part that tragedy has played in motivating me, and the people without whom I would not have made it.
One more wonderful thing. After being certain I was just destined to be alone, I finally found someone who shows me what love really is. C and I will celebrate a year together next month. You know how people say when you meet the right person, you just know? Yeah it's like that. He's the real deal, and I'm gonna keep him around permanently.
It feels like I've come full circle, I've gone from all the bad things happening at once to all the good things happening... graduation, true love, my 45th birthday in three weeks, real sustained happiness and contentment I have never before known.
A friend once quipped that she had never known me not in a state of disaster. It took me YEARS to recover, but here I am. Proof that you only truly lose when you give up trying. If you fall down, you just have to keep getting up again and again ... and again. I'm looking forward to demonstrating - and finding out for myself - what stability is like. No more hot mess!
At least, not until grad school....!!!
My most profound gratitude on this day to everyone who helped me every step of the way. Now, stand back and watch me fly!!!
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