Dating, dogs, and viruses, oh my...

I don't remember the last time I blogged. A couple months ago, maybe? I don't know why I haven't. Gawd knows there's always fodder. And nowadays there is certainly ample time.
Today I guess I finally just needed to. For whatever reason. For lots of reasons.

I will not talk about the virus, I will not talk about virus, I will not talk about the virus...

I'm a liar.
I won't go on and on. Because we are all going through this shit. We all see it, experience it, and cope with it, every day.
Just a couple of mentions...

The divide is incredible. It's like the last election. Maybe worse. Once again, I find myself with a dropped jaw, appalled, while reading various posts in my Facebook newsfeed.
Evidently I'm still able to be shocked.

Sometimes you "forget" that it's happening. You're driving in your car, day dreaming, missing your turns because you're not paying attention, windows down, jamming out to the music shuffled on your iPhone... Then you finally get to the grocery store. You park your car, climb out into the bright sunshine, lock it up, whistle while you walk...
And then you see it. A simple thing. But that's the moment it becomes.
The line.
Dozens of people, standing six feet apart from one another on the marked walkway, all wearing face masks, each waiting in turn to be let in to purchase necessities, hoping they're not sold out.
It's surreal. So unbelievable, as if you're living in a movie. It feels apocalyptic.
And your insides hurt. You swallow hard. You want to cry. You're afraid, you're furious, you're confused, you're grief stricken.
It's fucking real. And you just wish you were back in your car with the windows down, music loud, sunglasses on, daydreaming and driving.

I'm among the unemployed, like over 20 million others. As I said on Facebook...


Unemployment is TEMPORARY.
The additional payment is TEMPORARY.
There is no health insurance or 401k.
We do not know if we will have a job, or even a business, to go back to.


Our hours may have been drastically reduced. Our positions may have been cut. Our businesses may have been forced to close.

I am not of the faith, but I am praying for the day that my industry will be able to reopen (but realistically, I do not see it in the near future), and that the small business I work for won't be permanently closed due to the financial strain of this.

Even at the maximum amount, many are collecting a meager portion of what they were earning. With the additional payment from the CARE act, some will still not make what they earned. Some will make nearly as much. Will some collect more than what they made? A few will, yes. Temporarily. There is nothing we can do about that.

People in my industry don't collect anywhere NEAR what they actually make. Maybe a third, AT BEST. The additional payment will put us closer to our earnings. TEMPORARILY.

I've gone from working THREE jobs to working NONE, and it is NOT luxurious, or in any way fortunate, as many people claim. I would GLADLY choose to go back. I anxiously wait to be able to.


I've been passing the time watching CNN, scrolling through (and basically living on) Facebook. I've spent a bit of time with one person in particular. I've seen my kids a few times. I see mom and nana from a distance, when she cracks open her door to peek out and wave after I've dropped groceries on her porch. And eating. Eating, and eating, and eating. Why can't I stop friggin eating?!

After a long time of being emotionally shuttered, I've recently been reminded what it's like to have feelings for someone. And I'll tell you what, that's a lot fucking scarier than any virus.
But then, I have to analyze them, as I do everything.
Are they sincere? Are they situational? Are they residual feelings from another time, another person, that I'm redirecting? Are they just a coincidental consequence of my loneliness?
And why the fuck do I have to think so much?!
But what if they're not any of those things? What if they're real?
And what if they're not reciprocated? And how can I tell if they are or aren't? How can I be sure?
Fear. Fear is why I think too much.

Because, let's face it, I have NOT been "lucky in love." You've all seen evidence to that over my years and years of Facebook posting and blogging. I don't need to rehash it or even relive it, but...

My last boyfriend turned emotionally unreachable. Or maybe I did. Who knows who turned off first, but, we did. Either way, given the challenging circumstances we lived with, that emotional shut off became the death of us. And I suppose I still mourn that. I loved him, and love him still.

Just as I still love my last ex-husband. Who I thought was "the one." My soulmate. The love of my life. Turned out, third time isn't actually a charm.

I suppose I carry a little bit of love for all of them. Ex-husbands, ex-fiances, ex-boyfriends. There are pieces of all of them that still live in me.
Wait, maybe not all. I hold absolutely no fondness for my second ex-husband. But, I digress.

And so, my track record makes it frightening.
Trust, is frightening.
Feelings, are frightening.
And so, since it is all so suspect and unclear, I spend every day trying to dial them back. Smother them. Shut them off.

You know what else I do every day?
Every day, I say I will get up and walk the dog. Turn off the news. Work out. Paint the stand in the corner that I've been meaning to redo. Put out my new umbrella and chair cushions. Put up the lights around the deck. Do yard work. Plant flowers. Take the plastic off the house... (and so on)...
And every day, I don't.

Blaze went to the vet for a routine checkup, and nothing seemed abnormal.
But he is eating less, sleeping more, more anxious, more fearful, more depressed. And all of this started well before the virus, so it's not that.
He might eat one meal a day. Breakfast. But only at night. It sits in his bowl all day. Sometimes he goes over and looks at it. Sometimes he takes a bite. He usually eats it, finally, later in the evening.
He is considerably more jumpy and fearful. The other day, he bumped into my purse hanging from a kitchen chair. And, I shit you not, at 102 pounds, he literally flipped himself over in fear trying to get away from it. He startles at every sound. He jumps if I touch him when I'm walking past him. If he bumps into something unsuspectingly, he cries out and cowers.
We are trying another anti-depressant/anti-anxiety. I hope this one works.
But he still loves to get in the car and go riding. He loves to be outside. He still smothers his boy with kisses when he sees him. He still begs in the kitchen when I'm cooking. And fortunately, anxiously looks forward to treats with his meds in them.

As with everything, my mind goes to the worst case scenario. I'm cryptic that way, I can't help it. I had a dog once with similar symptoms, Anselmo. Except his was far more progressive. He went from healthy to malnourished and dying in a just a few weeks. When we finally discovered a large tumor sitting on top of his heart, crushing his esophagus (which explained why he wouldn't eat). Cancer is common in large/giant breeds.

But again, that's my mind at work. And so, I try to shutter that, too. Smother it, turn it off.

Besides, he can't be ill. He's all I've got. The one constant in my life. My solid.
The universe wouldn't be that cruel. Would it?
Ahhhh, unfortunately, it can be.
Just hopefully, not this time.

I've got to get off this thing. I have to go pick up groceries and prescriptions for the Golden Girls of Glenburn.

Be well, everyone.
I miss you. Well, most of you. 😁