How Are YOU Doing?

Is it me? Or are you also finding that you’ve left the denial phase of grief and are suddenly fully in the anger phase? For a few weeks, I let myself forget that this was grief, calling it other things instead. Disgust, mostly. But those of us with more empathy and intelligence than a slice of bologna know that we are grieving a loss. The loss of kindness, civility, and basic human decency. For some, the more tangible loss of autonomy, or choice, or employment. Daily threats of additional loss abound, none scarier than a total loss of democracy. Some days it’s hard to be the shining light. Some days it’s hard to keep a sense of humor.

The other day I initiated an online chat with a customer service representative at Chewy after I discovered, at 5 a.m., that the two cases of dog food I’d just laboriously unpacked were the wrong formula, sent in error (and of course, I’d left it to the last minute, so I had none of the correct food to feed my little gremlin). Despite wanting to erupt, I took a deep breath and typed a calm, concise summary when the lovely Sara signed on and asked how she could help me. She replied that she was looking into it and, “meantime, how are you and Crowley doing today?”

Well. In the pause before my response, I thought “Oh honey, are you kidding me? You really wanna know?”. I entertained myself for longer than was probably healthy with my imaginary unhinged response.

“Well, Sara. How do you think I’m doing? Not awesome. I got up so far on the wrong side of the bed today that I’m in a different zip code. This is the second large, heavy, WRONG order I’ve received in twelve hours. Like I needed another annoying errand to add to my list. My back hurts and my brain is foggy and my right eye is twitching way too often.

And Sara, if one more person honks their horn, or walks into traffic instead of using the crosswalk, or cuts me off by skipping the rotary, I don’t know if I can be responsible for my actions. If I get interrupted by one more spam call, or one more text about an unpaid toll or a package with postage due, same.

Oh, and did I mention that my toilet erupted like Vesuvius on the same day that I learned that my credit card had been compromised FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AS MANY MONTHS? Meaning I’ll be entertaining plumbers while I once again input a new number into dozens of autopay accounts.

And I know current events are a loaded subject, and not what we’re here for, but really? Is anyone OK these days?

But Sara, I’m not just a complainer. I’m also proactive. Since it seems that anybody can make shit up or rename things willy-nilly, I’m helpfully jumping on the bandwagon. I will now be referring to the Cybertruck as the Cockblocker (the newest, most reliable form of birth control). Feel free to do the same. I have rechristened DOGE as DICK (Department of Incels, Cucks and Ketamine Addicts). Should the need ever arise for me to refer to Mar-a-Lago (although my fervent prayer is that the ocean will swallow it whole), it will henceforth be as Mango Mansion of Burnt-Orange Beach.

You were so sweet to inquire about Crowley too, Sara. The one who woke me this morning, as he often does, by accidentally clawing my nipple with his razor-sharp nails at 4:30. Well, he might have fleas, and he definitely has brutal allergies. His trachea is collapsing, his liver is failing, his bladder is pre-cancerous, his eye has a melanoma and his ear is infected. I spent over $800 at the vet this week alone. He’s perfectly happy and zooming about, though.”

Because I haven’t gone completely feral yet, I actually responded like the good girl I was trained to be.

“We’re great, thanks! How about you?”

Meanwhile, all props to Sara and Chewy, because within less than two minutes she had sent the correct order to me (it arrived the next evening), told me I could donate the incorrect order to a vet or rescue (still another errand but so much easier than trying to send it back), and wished me a good day. Also props to the little dude, who scarfed down the wrong food without a care in the world.

All’s well that ends well, right? Yes! Normally I might have given myself a little pep talk/light scolding about not complaining, remaining positive, staying calm. About finding humor in our most absurd trials. And those all have their place, for sure. But I got to thinking: these days anger has a place as well. Anger is the fuel that moves us to action. None of the significant changes I’ve made in my life would have been possible had anger not moved me out of frozen denial and over the finish line to acceptance.  

I used to be afraid of my anger. Because I tried to bury it, it was volcanic and irrational and dangerous. Now, instead of trying to suppress it, I’m viewing it as a call to action. I’m observing it, having fun with it, and harnessing it for positive momentum.

Wishing you all the same.

***

Thanks for reading. What are you angry about? Let’s rant. But don’t forget to laugh.

***

Just after finishing this, I learned that the head of DICK (see above) sent a demand to all federal employees to list five job-related accomplishments of the previous week, stating that failure to comply would be understood as a resignation.

Of course, with my love of “5 things” lists, I could not leave this alone.

My job (one of several): finding joy in this hellscape

The week’s job-related accomplishments:

1.      Catching up with my favorite nephew over a three-hour brunch by the water

2.      Taking a break just to take a ride with a friend and look at gorgeous flowers

3.      Furniture shopping (very successfully) with the CWP

4.      Attending a Carole King tribute concert

5.      Putting the finishing touches on the room I’ve redone and decided to call the Creatorium