Death

Visits to the ER

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Over the past week, three family members went to the ER. Four, if you consider I work in the ER.

The first one to go was my mom. I received a phone call from the assisted living facility saying my mom’s face and lips were swollen. It appeared she was having an allergic reaction of some sort. They wanted to know if I could pick her up and take her. Because I live about an hour away, I declined as I thought she would need to go in long before I was able to get there. We are not sure what caused the reaction, but she was able to be treated and released. They did notice swelling in her legs too which caused them concern about her heart.

The second one to go to the ER was Arabella. It was dark outside and she twisted her ankle as she fell into a large pothole in the driveway of her boyfriend’s apartment complex. She was having a hard time walking and thought maybe she fractured her ankle. Just a week before, she also fell at work. She was wheeling a high chair back to where it belonged when it got caught in the carpet. She fell against the high chair into a wall. Not only did she have fresh bruises, but she had bruises from another fall a week before. The ER team gave her boyfriend suspicious looks, but he had nothing to do with it. She ended up with a sprained ankle.

The third one to go to the ER was my dad. He fell and by some urinary symptoms he was having, they thought he had another UTI. He ended up being admitted into the hospital. In the process, they found a large mass on his kidney which most likely is benign. My dad was weak, confused, and needed IV antibiotics. If I was close to my dad, I would’ve been there even if it was a long drive and I had to take off of work. But I’m not. I didn’t even tell my kids because they wouldn’t care. It’s harsh, I know. In normal families, there would be crying, prayers, and support. I see this all the time in the ER. And I also see people who through their own actions have pushed everyone away like my dad did.

My dad is back at the assisted living facility.

Because of the parent I am, I know I won’t be dying alone if I’m spending my last moments in a hospital. Maybe there is justice to reaping what you sow for better or worse.

Freezing to death

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I naively thought we might have escaped the harshness of winter with our unseasonably warm December and start of the new year. Until last week, that is. We got hit with several snowstorms and kicked the weekend off with a blizzard. Then we plunged right into arctic cold wind chills.

Paul was supposed to go on an ice fishing trip in the far north woods of Wisconsin. The mild winter only produced a couple inches of ice on the northern inland lakes and Lake Superior has open water. Usually by this time of year, people are driving their trucks on the lakes and have their ice shacks set up. This year with the weak ice followed by a blizzard then arctic cold, the trip got cancelled. Although the ice is forming fast now.

While Paul was gone, I had plans to go on an overnight trip to a casino. My friend Sue, who won a small jackpot months before, had to be present for a chance to win a car and $100,000. Paul said since his plans got cancelled, he would be willing to drive us there in his truck. But with the weather, we weren’t sure if we were going or not. Normally the trip takes us two and a half hours. But since half the trip is small towns and back roads, no doubt it would take a lot longer. The side roads would be snow covered and slippery since ice doesn’t melt in subzero temperatures if the roads are not plowed right away.

We decided to brave the trip. If we waited for perfect weather conditions in our state, we would be hibernating half the year. Late Saturday morning, Paul and I set off for our trip with Sue and her husband. We had supper at an Italian restaurant with really good food. Then we went to the casino. The drawing for the car and chance to win the money was at 10 PM. While there, I saw several people win big jackpots. The place was packed with jackpot winners waiting for their chance to win yet again. Sadly, Sue didn’t win. But we had a fun time anyway.

Arabella was home watching the pets. I spent a lot of my time worrying that the dogs were going to freeze to death. It was the first night we left the dogs for the night. Even if I am home, I am very paranoid the animals are going to freeze to death. Maybe the cats will sneak outside with someone. Maybe Arabella will let the dogs out then forget to let them back in. The maybes start swirling through my head faster than the snow in the blizzard winds.

Why am I always so worried about my animals when it is cold outside?? Then it hit me. As a child of around 13, I did have some animals freeze to death when I wasn’t home. It was probably around October and it was freezing at night. Two of my outdoor cats had kittens. One had 6 and the other had 4. One of the mama cat’s was a good mom and the other cat was not. The mama cats were sisters and they took care of each other’s babies. At night, I had to lock the cats in with their kittens because one would stay and the other would not.

We hardly went anywhere, but that night we got home late. Too late, in fact. One of the mama cat’s was with a box of babies and the other was not. The box of babies without the mama cat froze to death. My mom said I needed to bury the box of dead kittens. I found a shovel. It was dusk when I found a good burial spot. The ground was cold and hard. But I was able to dig a little hole. I put my hand into the box to pick up one of the fluffy kitties. I screamed when I touched the kitten’s little frozen body. I couldn’t do it. The kitten was so cold and death was so final for these babies. I started crying and threw the box, kittens and all, into the weeds.

I felt awful. Maybe their deaths could’ve been prevented if I didn’t go somewhere with my mom and brothers. I blamed myself. And on Arctic bitterly cold days, I can’t help but worry it could happen again.

The cat wars

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After my last post, that evening my 17 year old cat took a turn for the worse. He stopped eating, even after Lexi put dozens of treats down on the floor for him to eat. He stopped responding. His time had undoubtedly come. I didn’t sleep well that evening. I feared what I might find in the morning. But when morning arrived he was still with us. I called the traveling vet’s number first thing in the morning and she came out right away providing the most kind and compassionate end of life care. I wanted to wait until my husband came home from work, but time has a way of not waiting.

Several days later, my husband and I bailed Arabella out of jail after being incarcerated for 5 months. For me it was a day of great anticipation and anxiety. There is a fine line between excitement and anxiety which blurred together for me on that day. I almost felt like I did the day she was born. It was a feeling of excitement but a dread of the pain it would cause me with the scheduled C-section. How many times has she torn my heart out?

It wasn’t all as I expected. I thought she would be happy. I thought she would be someone else. Perhaps leaving behind the last of her teenage years behind bars would change her. I didn’t expect the adjustment to be so hard.

All Arabella wanted was to get her cat back. Her ex kept her cat while she was in jail. He is a rescue cat and has been known to be aggressive towards other cats. I didn’t want him to attack my elderly cat. But now my cat is gone and Will wants to keep the cat. I’ve thought long and hard about the situation. I think it is in the cat’s best interests to stay with Will. Since the cat was previously abused/neglected, I don’t think the cat would respond well to be ripped out of the environment it’s in and be separated from Will who he is currently attached to. My daughter has been known to have a hard time taking care of her pets. She can barely take care of herself. Will provided pretty much all the pet care when they were together.

They got the cat together about six months before Arabella went to jail. So half of the time they have owned the cat she was away from him. I’m not sure I want to take in the cat because if she does not take care of him properly, it would be very unsettling for the cat lovers in my house. Every animal she has had, I’ve ended up taking care of. She wants the cat for her but is incapable of thinking of the best interests of the cat.

Arabella has said her life is not worth living without her cat. She has been crying off and on about it. I told her she needed to find a place of wellbeing independent of others, including an animal. She also mentioned forcefully wanting to take the cat back. I told her if she does something like that she will end up in jail again, maybe prison. She got herself into the situation she was in and doesn’t want to face some of the ramifications.

It’s hard to find compassion towards her when my cat just died. Her cat is living, albeit in a different house, but is loved and is well taken care of. At this point, I’m not really sure what is going to happen. I am prepared to take in her cat now if it heads in that direction. I’m trying to stay out of it somewhat. Every time I lightly suggest maybe her cat is better off where he is, she gets very upset with me. We’ll see what happens…

I’m so thankful they never had any children. I can’t even imagine.

Resilient and resourceful

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I went to bed last night not knowing if my dad was going to live through the night. I knew by late afternoon an ambulance took him to the hospital. Right before bed, my mom called and said my dad was going through kidney failure and she was unsure if he was going to live through the night. I didn’t sleep well.

I was hoping I wouldn’t have to think about my dad dying for awhile. At least until my daughter is out of jail. A million different scenarios whirled around my head. I don’t know how I feel about my dad dying, our relationship is complicated. I received an update this morning the doctors drained 3 liters of fluid from my dad’s kidneys and his kidneys are functioning better. He will not need dialysis. But I don’t think he is out of the woods yet. I don’t think he will ever go back home though because my mom can’t take care of him anymore.

I’m not sure if I will ever see him again. I can’t remember the last time I saw him. Was it this calendar year? I can’t recall. As of right now, I don’t have any plans of seeing him or saying good-bye. I feel as if I have said everything that I need to say. But maybe I’ll regret it some day. I don’t think he has much time left. But who really knows?

Tomorrow Arabella has another court date. It’s a preliminary hearing which from what I gather will be a determination whether there is probable cause for the 3 felony charges she is facing. I’m not really sure what is going to happen. She has been in jail almost a month already. The only thing I’ve determined is nothing is certain and nothing happens fast.

Thankfully I had an appointment with my counselor this afternoon. She said I needed to come up with a plan. That is something I can do. Beyond that she said what she knows about me is that I am resilient and resourceful enough to figure out pretty much anything I’m going to have to face. By the end of the week, my daughter could be out of jail and my dad could be dead. There is so much uncertainty.

My counselor said I needed to come up with a plan for how to deal with the possibility my dad may die soon. I told her as of right now I don’t want to see him. I told her if he calls me and asks to see me, then I would see him. The next time I plan on seeing him is in a casket. I know it sounds harsh, but he never invested anything into our relationship. He is an abusive pedophile and most of the family wants nothing to do with him. The whole situation is very sad and not at all what I wanted.

The second plan I need to come up with is a safety plan for when Arabella comes home. So far I have two items on my plan. The first is to have my cell phone on me at all times in case my daughter tries to threaten or harm me so I can call 911. The second is to lock my door while I sleep at night. Beyond that, I really didn’t put too much time into thinking about it.

My therapist said I needed to look around my house and see what can be used as a weapon. Put away the knives sitting on the counter in the rack. Anything easily accessible. I remember having to do this as a kid when my schizophrenic brother pulled a knife on me and threatened to poke my eyes out. Sadly, it’s nothing new. The therapist said I should focus on removing items easily reached in an argument versus items my daughter could use to kill herself.

Back when my daughter was 17, her outpatient program told me she was planning on killing herself. They said I needed to scour her room for anything she could use to harm herself. I didn’t find much. She was too smart for me. She took disposable razors, took the blades out, and hid them in a gum wrapper in a pack of gum. She told me that later. I could never adequately protect her from herself.

The best I can do is protect me from her now. I have zero faith self-defense would work. She is twice my size. I learned a lot about psychotic rages from my brother. He is close to my size and when he was raging he had super human strength. It was unpredictable and could happen at any time. It could not be prevented. There weren’t any signs despite our hyper-vigilance.

Matt is being treated for his schizophrenia and the medication he is on works. He no longer hears voices telling him to hurt or kill people. Arabella is not being treated for schizophrenia. She is dangerous until she is if anyone will listen to find out what is really happening. Her delusions are very real to her and she becomes very agitated when we don’t believe what she does. Both times she ended up in jail was after bouts of going off her meds. So they do work somewhat. This is what life is like when family members are seriously mentally ill. My parents struggle with mental illness too. I love them all, but they are hard to deal with.

It’s really been a lot to handle. I’m sick of the stress. But as my therapist said, I am resilient and resourceful. I just don’t want to have to be.

Yurt not trusting me

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This weekend we had plans with friends to stay at a yurt. It seemed like a great idea after a few drinks while talking with Tom and Lisa at our daughter’s wedding. It still seemed like a good idea when Lisa booked the trip in February the next day.

The yurt is located in the middle of nowhere in some state park in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It was going to take a couple hours to drive there. Apparently it does not have electricity nor does it have running water. Winter camping at its finest with a vault toilet nearby. The only amenities are a couple bunk beds, a table, and a wood stove with wood to keep a fire going so nobody freezes to death.

Freezing to death…it’s been a cold week here in Wisconsin. I’ve heard of several reports of people freezing to death within this past week. Will, without a car, was still planning on riding his bike to work. Not only is it cold, it is icy because salt doesn’t melt ice well when it’s 20 below. I don’t think I could live with myself if I saw a picture of him dead on the morning news. So I let my daughter borrow my car so he would have a way to work.

I gave my friend Lisa a call this week to plan the trip to the yurt. Lisa said their snowmobile wasn’t working. They ordered parts they thought might fix it which were supposed to show up on Tuesday but didn’t arrive until Wednesday. To get to the yurt, we would need to hike almost 5 miles on a snow covered path or breeze in on a snowmobile.

I reminded myself of the not so fond memory of the last time I ‘ran’ 5 miles over a year ago. It was the last race I ever did. I almost didn’t finish. Not too long before that, I finished my first 50k. Yes, a 50k! It was at that point I knew something was wrong. I ran about half the race then I had this horrible pain in my ankle where I could barely walk. I found out later that under exertion I have a bone spur which hits a nerve. At times I can barely walk and the next minute it’s fine. I also had a terrible backache.

Back in the day, Lisa and I used to run together. That was before her daughter died, before she moved away. Those days were some of the best times in my life. We trained together. She was a better runner than me but she kept me on my toes. Between the two of us, we could place in almost every small town race. I typically placed in the top 10% of my age group in 10k’s and half-marathons. I was finally able to achieve at a sport after always being picked last as a kid for teams in gym class. I even had to do extra credit in middle school to pass gym class. Turns out I was better at writing book reports than doing any kind of sport. But running I guess you could say I ran with it.

Now my daughter Angel is training for her first half-marathon. At times I see her hard on herself if she has a bad run. I too was very hard on myself on bad running days. Recently I told her that even a bad run, she is still able to run. What I wouldn’t give now for a bad run. These are things you can say once it’s gone. But it is truly not gone because I am able to enjoy the process through her.

The part for the snowmobile came in and it didn’t fix the problem. Today Tom bought a new battery and it still didn’t work. Now they are thinking the starter on the snowmobile needs fixing and they will need to take it in somewhere to be fixed.

Today I made the decision to not go to the yurt if the snowmobile wasn’t working. The high for tomorrow is 3 with lows below zero. Maybe I would’ve gone if I didn’t have to walk 5 miles through the snow in subzero temperatures with all our gear and try to get there before dark. A couple years ago nothing would’ve stopped me. But now I can’t even trust myself anymore. With spotty phone coverage, who knows? I might end up on the news and not in a good way. Although I’m a planner, I haven’t given too much thought to my funeral yet.

I feel bad for wimping out. But I also know my limitations. All the self-discipline in the world won’t change a thing when my body doesn’t listen to my mind anymore. Looks like I’ll have some time to take Arabella car shopping after all.

A season of suffering

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I woke up in the middle of the night when I heard my son leaving for work. I was having a nightmare that I had a baby who was kidnapped. When I fell back asleep, the nightmare continued. I searched and searched for the baby on a continuous loop all night. I woke up exhausted.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had nightmares. For awhile, I remembered even having some good dreams which is rare because it seemed if I dreamed at all they were bad dreams. Yesterday was a stressful day. I spent the day with my mom and my evening with Arabella doing deliveries. I think it was too much for one day because my mom and Arabella are known to stress me out. I wish it wasn’t that way, I really do.

Everything went pretty well with my mom. When she comes to visit, she likes to go out to eat for lunch. Yesterday we went out to eat at a restaurant we ate at dozens of times. When it was time to leave, she was very confused at how to get out of the restaurant. She went the wrong way and headed towards the kitchen which was opposite of the way we came in. She should have known that. I had to call out to her that she was going the wrong way. She just seemed so confused. I’ve noticed for awhile now that she is starting to slip mentally. She has been acting bizarrely like sending my daughter a photo of her ex on her wedding day. There are many times she acts childlike. I’m not sure if it is a normal part of aging or if something else like dementia is starting. Frequently I feel very annoyed by her behavior. Then I feel guilty because my mom is not really herself anymore.

Then I spent the evening driving Arabella around to do deliveries. I want to help her out but we don’t really get along very well. She wants everything her way and is very bossy towards me. I have to decide what is worth tolerating and what is worth fighting. I don’t want a relationship like that, but I want to help her out. Now her boyfriend and her both don’t have a car. Rent is due soon. They were late this month and got a notice to pay or vacate. They both have fines to pay. He now has thousand of dollars worth of medical bills. I’m motivated to help her out because I don’t want them living on the streets. Hell, they don’t even have a car to live in and I don’t think it would be good to have her live at home again for me. This has been weighing heavily on me. Last night I helped her work a couple hours. I used up a quarter tank of gas just for her to make $30. Doesn’t seem worth it to me.

While I was waiting for her to pick up food, I found out that our vet’s office is closing permanently next week. We go to a small town clinic. We’ve been taking our animals there for the last fifteen years. The vet was diagnosed with cancer and is closing shop. That’s his retirement. It’s so sad because he just lost his wife who worked with him to cancer a few years back. It’s so terribly sad. I’ve been going there for so long the staff and I know each other on a first name basis. That personal touch is so rare nowadays. Now they will be all losing their jobs as well right around Christmastime. One of the ladies is the mom of my son’s friend. She is a single parent. It just sucks.

There have been so many illnesses and deaths the last couple months. I just feel so overwhelmingly sad for the suffering of others. Our employee from our previous business just lost her sister who was a best friend to her last month. I got to know her a little. She died unexpectedly and she was only in her upper 30’s. Last week her husband committed suicide. He couldn’t live without his wife. That’s two suicides in the last two months, my blogging friend and the brother-in-law of a previous employee. Even though I didn’t know them personally, I feel so incredibly sad for the grief of their families this holiday season.

I’m sick of bad news and hearing about the suffering of others. Where is the peace? Where is the joy? Sorry to be so negative right before Christmas. The expectation on us is that we should be happy right now, but many are not. I guess I am just in a funk right now. The cold dark days are upon us. I wish I could see the light, just a little glimpse of the good days to come.

Gratitude tomorrow…

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Yesterday I found out one of my blogging friends passed away after a long battle with depression. I wish I could’ve done something to help her. A couple weeks back I noticed her blogging patterns were off. She posted one day like normal and then she just disappeared. She no longer liked or commented on my posts either. A week went by, then another week. I was really getting worried. What if something happened to her? I decided to do a little poking around. I had her name and a general location so I started scouring the obituaries. Nothing…

For awhile I had a sense of false hope. Maybe she was in the hospital and couldn’t update her blog. Maybe she got in a car accident. Maybe she was taking a break on the beach of some nice resort. Maybe she was sick with a fever. The nagging voice in my head said maybe she was dead. Nope, couldn’t be that because I didn’t find an obituary. Maybe, maybe, maybe…until one day I saw a post from her family with her obituary.

Did she know the last time she posted it would be her last? She never said good-bye.

It hurts. Even though we never met in person, I felt like she was a good friend. On a hard day, she often would write an encouraging comment. I just can’t believe it. She was an inspiration to many, especially those struggling with mental health issues. Maybe some day I will go back and re-read some of the things she wrote but as of now I just can’t. Good bye Ashley, you will be greatly missed.

Broken peace

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Last week Paul and I had our first opportunity to volunteer at a center that offers assistance for families in need. There was someone who sticks out in my mind, a young woman in her early 20’s who was very pregnant. Apparently she usually comes in with another lady who was also pregnant. But this time she came in alone and said the friend she usually comes in with was in the hospital delivering a stillborn baby. It was heartbreaking and I didn’t even know the lady.

Later the volunteer coordinator said to us she would get through it and be fine since she has the Lord to lean on. I really hope so. Does anyone ever really get over the loss of a child? Today it’s been 4 years since my friend Lisa lost her daughter in a car accident. I still worry about my friend. It’s hard to watch her suffer and only have thoughts and prayers to offer.

I don’t know about you, but I am really horrible at having a strong faith in times of trouble. I am pretty good at doubting though. Do our prayers change the heart of God? Does he really care about the continuum of time? The truth is we are all going to die.

I’ve had to accept a lot of things. Sometimes I have fleeting moments of peace. I’ve come a long way from feeling I would never be able to climb out of the despair.

Maybe I’m forever stuck in the loop of viewing my heavenly father as my earthly father. I’m just being honest here. I felt anger towards God. I’ve had to parent my parents since I can remember. Why can’t I just walk away? Why do I feel responsible for them? I never had parents I could go to for support.

When I found out about my dad’s crime and a few months later my daughter attempted suicide, I turned to our pastor for support. But I felt like I was doing something wrong. I didn’t forgive. I wasn’t good enough or have enough faith to be blessed with a healthy family. I took advice from a pastor who had some of the best parents I’ve ever seen. He wasn’t abused. His dad wasn’t a pedophile. He wasn’t dealing with decades of childhood trauma. He didn’t grow up in a household of worry and fear. His childhood gave him good memories, mine gave me PTSD. It was like trying to get marriage advice from a priest. He couldn’t relate.

But somehow I came through it. I made my peace with God. Our new pastor is great, although I know he can not relate. Not many can. Our church has a shortage of pastors. The other day my husband said if he was younger he would’ve liked to be a pastor. I think he would make a great pastor, I would not however make the best pastor’s wife. The sad thing is Paul said he didn’t feel like he would ever be good enough to be a pastor, he is too broken.

But somehow I think it’s better to help others when you have been through it yourself. Between Paul and I, we’ve both been through a lot of hard times and maybe we can use our experiences to help others. It took me two years to get to the spot where I thought maybe I could experience joy in my life again. It took a lot of work. I still struggle. Sometimes I wonder if God cares. If you find you are having a hard time getting by with the little faith you have, you are not the only one.

I wish I had good advice to help other people in our lives who might be hurting. What did I want in my darkest days? What I wanted more than anything was to be left alone, but that also wasn’t healthy for me to isolate myself. It helped to have a couple people to talk to that didn’t treat me like something was wrong with me because they couldn’t understand. My best friend would check in on me every couple of days. Don’t just offer thoughts and prayers, look at me with pity, and go on your merry way. Ask what you can do to help. Say kind things like…I don’t know how you can stay sane. Talk about your problems with me. I felt bad when friends wanted to talk but said my problems are nothing compared to yours.

When I see others struggle with similar circumstances, I try to tell them they are not alone or that I felt the same way they did. I understand why people don’t cut their dysfunctional families out of their lives. It’s because they are a good person. They want to help. They have been conditioned from a young age to have to do things most people have no understanding about. The fear of a parent killing them self and you are the only person who might be able to stop it, fix it can not just walk away. Don’t tell someone who has lost a child to just get over it. There is no timeline for grief.

We can really hurt others with our words. But more importantly, we can offer great comfort and help. That is the true joy of suffering.

Fortune cookie wisdom #49

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Good beginning is half done.

I suppose the wisdom of this fortune cookie could be taken in several different ways. For me, when I think of this, I think that my life is half over. As a middle aged person, this makes perfect sense. Of course, if my life is half over as of today my life would end at 95. I think I would be lucky to live that long as right now off the top of my head I can’t think of any family member that did.

I know it sounds morbid, but as I age sometimes I wonder how long I will live. I keep telling myself I have plenty of time left so I don’t waste time worrying about it. With a family history of dementia, I also tell myself that I probably won’t even know I’m dying which in a strange way is comforting. On some days I feel tired of living, but on the flip side the thought of dying is utterly horrifying to me. I like to be told what to expect but no one living knows, or even understands the dimension of time on a continuum. When did time start? Not even the smartest person can tell us that for sure.

What happens after we die? Again, I have my own beliefs, but no one living really knows. Wow, I wasn’t planning on getting all philosophical on this fortune cookie. But that’s what I like about the fortune cookie posts, I really never know where it will lead me.

On a side note, I am all out of fortune cookies…so I guess it might be awhile before I do a post on fortune cookies again. To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure where I am going to go from here. Is there anything you would like to hear more about?

The old normal, part 1

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I’ve experienced a lot a change in the last 5 years. It started with the death of my mother-in-law from cancer back in February of 2017. We went through a period of grief and loss.

Within the last 5 years we went from having three (up to four with the foreign exchange students) teenagers living in our house to being empty nesters last month.

Paul and I went from running a business to selling our business that I worked at for 10 years and he for 20. For a period of time, we were retired. Then Paul started a seasonal business. He also started a new career different from both businesses. So there were several career and job changes within the last 5 years.

With the selling of our business, we experienced a socioeconomic change. We moved into a different house in a different town. Our youngest daughter changed schools. We are attending the third church within five years. New house, new neighborhood, new school, new church.

I went from being a marathon runner to not running at all. I was diagnosed with colitis and started developing health issues. I started to notice aging more than I’ve ever experienced it before in my adult life going from my early 40’s to my late 40’s. My siblings started to develop health issues.

I found out about the crime my dad committed. It tore up my family. Then COVID came into play and tore up whatever family unity was left. My dad will be 75 in a couple weeks and it kills me that our relationship never amounted to anything. Most of my family went from tolerating him to despising him. My mom is teeter tottering back and forth between leaving my dad and staying. She moved in with us for awhile. She is experiencing a tremendous amount of anxiety.

It’s been two years today since my youngest daughter tried to kill herself for the first time. That has been a huge struggle and change in my life, having a daughter go from quirky to being so mentally ill she might die.

Then there are the other little changes, but changes nonetheless. Losing a family pet. Buying a new car after my old car got totaled. Not to mention a global pandemic that changed everyone’s life.

I am struggling with all the change. The new me doesn’t even recognize the old me anymore. What happens now?

What happens when the pandemic ends? Do we pick up the pieces where we left off and start a new old normal?