55

 This year, 55, no narrative, just words, single words:

COVID. Screens. Zoom. Skype. Distance. 

Rumination. Regret. Review. Dissonance.

Need. Analysis. Envy. Conflict. Incongruity. Yearning.

Friendship. Renewal. Support. Appreciation. 

Home. Maudlin. Melancholy. 

Family. Love. Far. Touch. Aging. Loss. Sorrow. Sadness. Longing.

Hope. Anticipation. Finding. Recovery. 

Words

 I love words and I love writing. In the past few months I’ve needed words to describe very specific feelings, thoughts and ideas and while the same word exists both in English and Spanish, they often do not convey the same meaning, the same feeling or the same cultural reference. Sometimes, a word said in Spanish fits better, at other times it’s better in English. The word faith for example, in Spanish, FE, (for me) is always tied to religious faith and God like intervention and I never use it because it doesn’t feel right. While when I think of it in English, FAITH, it feels better, it feels more generous in an everything-will-be-okay kind of way, no need for God. There is a lot going on in the world and finding words that reflect a universal experience, provide universal comfort or convey universal understanding seem unattainable. So, for now we are left with deeds not words, and while we sit here moored to the uncomfortable despair, we need to add a deed to our words, one that shows kindness, conveys understanding and offers alliance.

Remembering

 Remembering: when I was growing up we would stay with my grandparents often and my grandma used to look after five grandchildren: myself, my two brothers and cousins. She had to be creative entertaining us while my grandfather took his daily after lunch nap. She taught us how to play canasta it is a VERY LONG game that would keep us quiet except when someone won the center card stack “se llevo el pozo!!” which would lead to loud cheers and teasing of the fool who gave the stack away. She would also have the five of us pluck her gray hair. She would sit on a stool while my grandfather napped and in order for us to be quiet she would give us tweezers and we would pluck out her gray hairs. This was fun ... and I think the reason why at age 80 she still had a full head of black hair. She would also take us to their ranch and pack the back of a blue station wagon full of food. A couple of us would sit in the back bench of the car holding our legs high above large aluminum foil covered containers of rice and refried beans. When we got there she would take the mattresses of the three beds off the box spring and lay them on the floor to make 6 beds so that we each had our own. In the evenings she would give us glass jars with holes on the lid so we could catch lightning bugs and sit down with them in our hands to listen to my grandfather tell his ongoing story of the new adventures of a tiger. Today ... looking up at the smoky moonless sky I think - we’ve GOT TO make changes so that kids can have a planet 🌍 where they can enjoy their grandparents.

ROAR

 Yesterday I greeted my 6 year old and his family in the new gathering space at the new Sunny Hill, me: face shield in place - I cheerily say "Good morning gang", my kid LEAPS out of his chair mask under his nose, and RUNS over to show me his Mum's phone where he is playing a T-Rex-destroy-the-city dinosaur game while he roared loudly (through his mask), moved his hands like a T-rex and smiled broadly (I could see it in his eyes despite the mask) while making sure and purposeful eye contact so I decide to roar back. He shrieks, runs back to his Mum to hand over the phone and comes back to hug my legs. He then grabs my hand to walk to the exam room. He then spent the session standing next to me, BY MY SIDE, hand on my thigh and roaring every once in a while - we became easy friends. When I was a resident I used to be scolded for touching patients, holding a hand during bad news, a hug at the end of a difficult session, a comforting arm squeeze was frowned upon. Here is the thing, medicine cannot be practiced without touch or for that matter nearness, be it for rapport, physical exam or comfort. When this whole mess started I said to my Mum "You can't go out or touch anyone, you could get COVID and could die" To which she responded "Well then I will just die of sadness". SO, let's kick this COVID butt and here's to the HAPPY day when we can TOUCH AGAIN. In the meantime ... ROAR!!

Mothers, mothers, mothers

It's another year, another mother's day. This time it is a social distancing mother's day. Very symbolic as in this brand new world we are all forced to learn to love from afar.

I've been schooled in the love form afar thing - both kids away at University so loving from afar is the norm. BUT they are BACK and the love from close by renewed or semi-renewed as hugs and kisses and "corny" expressions of love still have to be done from afar. Yup, AFAR.

In this year of mother love I have learned that I STILL love them when they teach me how to make eggs despite that I've been cooking eggs FOR THEM for half a century almost. Turns out you have to make eggs by cooking them over the fire for thirty seconds and then hold the pan AWAY from the fire while stirring them and then again on the fire. This is to be repeated until eggs are cooked thoroughly. This as instructed from their new mother Gordon Ramsay who fails to mention in his egg cooking videos that NO MOTHER on real Earth would have that amount of time to make eggs like this if you are also, dressing your children, making lunches, reviewing previous days homework and getting ready for work yourself while he has ONE JOB and that is to find a way to fill a 30 minute show with his egg making.

Going on a bike ride today. Home to Stanley Park, lunch at Granville Island and up the BIG ASS Blenheim Hill. EXPERIENCES over gifts that my mantra.

As we are leaving I hear him ask: "Can you put sun screen on me?" I GLOW, a MOMENT of GLOW. I AM MOTHER hear me roar that is NOT something YouTube or for that matter Gordon Ramsay can do.

Problem or solution?

It's been a TOUGH time. TOUGH. TOUGH. TOUGH. 

Nature, Mother Earth, Gaia, call it what you may, is kicking our proverbial ass. 

A few days ago I said to my 82 year old father "Please don't leave the house so that you stay healthy, I don't want to lose you". My father, always the ultimate MIT engineer pragmatist answered: "You will lose me some day, what you mean is that you don't want to lose me prematurely". This of course comes from the man who has ALWAYS said "When I am a bigger part of the problem than the solution, please let me go" 

The man who developed an logarithm to choose a mate - DECADES before Tinder and measures costs and benefits for EVERYTHING however, has failed to teach me how to measure his contribution to "being a problem". Do I measure this with how much he is costing the system? The family? How much care he will require? 

He has also not taught me how to measure his contribution to being part of the "solution". Do I measure this with the presence of his voice in my life? His presence in his grandchildren's life? His make-me-smile memes on Whatsapp? His calls to make sure we are all ok? His face on zoom? How do you compare a problem to a solution when love is involved?

Over the last year I have had to make tough choices, some were easy, some not so. In one case even when love was involved the choice was easy - the choice was me, love for me is much better than love for another. Love for myself was paramount so I chose me. In that case it was a no brainer. It isn't always as clear ... or is it?

THIS is where we ALL are now - part of the problem or part of the solution? Do we sacrifice our happiness for others? Stay at home and grow bored for others? Go to work and help or stay home and safe? Do we love others or do we love ourselves? Can we do both?

Every day I see acts of kindness when people make the choice to LOVE. My colleagues come in to work and chose to be part of the solution. All health care workers are doing the same, but so is every clerk who stands behind the plexiglass to make sure we have food, snacks, even toilet paper. Every person who has delivered pizza or sushi or poke to your door? Part of the solution!

So here is the trick, its not that complicated really - LOVE, LOVE, LOVE - love for now. Love so you don't lose anyone prematurely.

Lets talk about shame

I've been thinking a lot about shame. 

This is the definition of shame by Merriam-Webster. Shame: a painful emotion caused by of humiliating disgrace or disrepute or ignominy, something that brings censure or reproach, something to be regretted. 

I was listening to a podcast on NPR called The mind of the mark https://www.npr.org/2019/07/29/746407667/the-mind-of-the-mark , it talks about the mind of a person who has been scammed and feels shame. One of the experts discusses the fact that there are no accurate statistics for fraud as people are too ASHAMED to talk about it. People don't want to let other people know they were fooled or abused so we never find out and the behaviour goes unpunished.

I followed the Harvey Weinstein case and it also got me thinking that one of the reasons this behaviour (not only with Weinstein but also with others) went on for SO many years is because many of the women were to ASHAMED to talk about what had happened to them despite the UNDENIABLE FACT THAT THIS WAS NOT THEIR FAULT.

More recently I've been talking to women about events in their life which were NOT their fault but yet made them feel shame and this theme come up over and over again. "Oh I would never talk about it, I'd be too ashamed' "I could never really talk about it, I am embarrassed that I let it happen" "I can't talk about it, I am so ashamed, I'd have to admit I was dumb enough to fall for a predator". I have to admit; I felt the same way after the big Dr. Lopez dupe. As I wrote in my last blog - HOW can we talk about shame if we are to ashamed to talk?

Its time to change! In her book Brene Brown talks vulnerability and the silent shame epidemic. She also talks about shame resilience. 

I leave you with her instructions to foster shame resilience: 

1. Being able to recognize, name and understand our shame triggers.
2. Developing critical awareness about our own shame webs and triggers.
3. Being willing to reach out to others (rather than hide and isolate ourselves).
4. Having the ability to speak about our experiences of shame with those who have earned the right to hear them.

Lets do this, let's talk about shame!