Just Another Day

I cannot wrap my head around the coincidence that I’m sitting in the exact same waiting room to see the exact same doctor as I did in this blog from last fall: https://adonkumentary.com/2021/12/02/cant-wait/

Another mass shooting happened (as I’m editing this before posting, two more happened that have made headlines). The coincidence that like the last time, I kissed my boy on the head as he left for school. That again I think about those Achilles heels spots in his school between buildings where they’re most vulnerable.

It wasn’t a school (this time)ā€¦ but the tragedy feels so similar. The trauma we endure and the fear we have to live in either for our children at school or our grandmothers at the grocery store or our friends out for a jog or our neighbors going to church—I’m so angry. I’m so angry that we live in this trauma loop leaving no room to mourn, let alone heal before another one happens.

No one ever thinks it’ll happen to them until it does.

The irony of tragedy from guns being all I can think about in this exact same waiting room while also juggling stress from work to do for my day job that’s piled up and is waiting for me at home illustrates how normalized mass shootings are in America. Is it really a coincidence? No. It’s just another f*cking day in the US. Mourn the lives lost but also don’t forget to respond to your emails and also it’s trash day and you forgot to leave it by the curb.

I’ve moved from the waiting room to the office to wait for my doctor. Like the last post, I hover over a button with my thumb (this time being a “publish” button), wondering if some people will hate/unfollow/ or be annoyed by me for the things I’ve said…which isn’t really anything. I have nothing profound to add to the conversation about guns and mass shootings except my desperation for it to stop and all go away.

And being an anxious [recovering] people pleaser, scared of confrontation from anyone who reads this and thinks I’m being chicken little about the sky falling, while also being so, so weak physically from chronic illness and weak mentally and emotionally from, well, *broadly gestures at everything* as well as trying to work through my own rocky healing from traumatic abuse I just…My thumb hovers nervously over something where I’m not saying anything new at all.

But I’m so angry, I’m so worried, and I’m so sad.

The doctor is coming in.

I’m in the parking lot now with doctor’s orders: another MRI of my brain to check on the 3x1mm abnormality they found on the last one as well as a different medication that will have different side effects. I can’t surprise my kid with lunch today because the school is standardized-testing.

So I’ll go home to my home office which is actually a closet, wait to hear from the imaging place to schedule an MRI, find out if insurance approves it and how much it’ll cost to have done. I’ll respond to my emails and work on some projects before leaving again to pick up my son from school.

Just another day.

Another day where people died when they didn’t have to. Where hate made headlines. Another jab in our collective, open wound, making it that much deeper and that much farther from healing.

I have a friend who recently realized they were battling depression. I’m happy they realized it and so proud of them for saying something, but of course I’m sad that they’re there. Depression is a monster. I’ve dealt with depression for years and they asked me if I had any advice, which took me by surprise. I feel like I’m always looking for the adult in the room to give me advice, but I gave it a good thought anyway and told them that one thing I really try to do every single day is to make a point to take note of anything that:

1. Makes me laugh
2. Makes me feel good
3. Makes me feel proud of myself

…even if said thing is silly or completely ridiculous. Here’s an example:

The other day, I came home from a doctor’s appointment and within minutes of arriving home, fell fast asleep on my couch. I was so tired…running on empty spoons, as the spoonie community would say. Hours later, I woke up and walked by a mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, frizzed out in every direction. My mascara and lipstick were smudged. My shirt was wrinkled and I had the pattern of my couch pillow imprinted on my cheek. But you know what? I thought I looked kind of hot. (ha!) Seriously though. I looked like someone who was hot in the peak of 90s grunge. Like maybe I could’ve hung out with Courtney Love, Alanis Morrissette, or The Cranberries.

And that was one good thing on an otherwise shitty day.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you can, try to do the thing I told my friend that doesn’t fix anything, but does give you a moment of pressure release. It tethers you to a small point that will likely never be big news or life-changing, but instead, merely something funny or good that’s worth noting. Even if it melts away seconds later, the noted thing had its place and it can stay right there in your memory as something real.

Please take care of yourselves. Tell your loved ones that you love them. Remember that your life has value just the same as everyone else’s. And if you can, be a helper to someone. Or ask for help if you need it. None of us are in this alone.

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