I Set My Own Pace

march-supplies

Hello everyone! I was off social media pretty much all day today. It was just a hard day and I wanted to concentrate on what’s important to me, personally, in the ways that I can.

I wrote some really excellent copy today at work. I know nobody will ever see it, and it won’t be attributed to me, but I did a lot of research and am proud of what I produced.

At lunch, I worked out again, for what seems like the hundredth day in a row. I’ve been hitting it pretty hard for about 10 weeks now, and it’s difficult to make myself continue, but in some ways, it’s almost rote. Treadmill. Music. Salad. Repeat.

I heard from a few, selective friends via text message, who knew I was otherwise unreachable. It’s interesting who keeps in touch with you when they know you’re not on social media, who reaches out, who wants to keep the connection.

Today, the tiny gym at my work, a cement block, unforgiving space, was occupied by another human, who had the TV on over the lunch period, watching the inauguration. I did not want to watch this. But when you are faced with a bare wall, and your music playlist is getting stale, and something unprecedented is taking place before your eyes, it’s hard not to watch.

Step step step. I pounded away on the treadmill, sweating and huffing and puffing. I am doing better with the rehabilitation process of my ankle. It is not ready for major running yet, but I could run away from danger if it were close by now, which is important and gratifying. I can dart across the street if the light is changing, for example. And that is progress. This old body can be beaten into shape and healed, it just takes longer than it used to. That’s ok, I’m not going anywhere.

I watched the awful man take the oath and spew his speech like someone’s angry dad on a long road trip. “This stops NOW,” he said. As if, like any road-trip-dad, he really has the ability to make anything stop just by saying so. I heard him talk of unity and inclusion while talking about how we will not be citizens of the world, while his staff worked to update the White House webpage to remove language to make women, minorities and LGBTQ citizens feel like they are protected. I heard him say “righteous” and mention God and the Bible several times, making me feel more than ever like I am on the outside of my country looking in through the film of a dirty window. I am as much a citizen as everyone else who is a citizen, even though I am bisexual, even though I am a single mother and so now my taxes will go up exponentially, even though I am not a Christian. And I withstood all of that until they escorted the Obamas out to the military helicopter for their final moments and goodbye. My throat closed up in an attempt not to cry while I was pound-pound-pounding away on the treadmill. I could not get air. I thought I might collapse, and grabbed at my throat. The other guy on the machine nearby did not notice, and I was glad, as the tension was released with the tears that rolled down my face as I continued on my workout, through whatever it was we were all going through at that time.

I will say: Melania looked beautiful, her hair and makeup and outfit were elegant and wonderful, and this is not her fault. I will not be party to attacks on her, unless and until she does something to give me reason to majorly disagree. As to nude pictures, or anything else in her past, I am in no position to judge, and will not. And I personally will not tolerate anything said, even in jest, against Barron. He is a minor child. No matter what was said about Michelle, Sasha and Malia, I will not stoop to that level, and won’t tolerate it from others.

After work was over, I spent the evening with some wonderful people. My crazy, hyper son, my girlfriend and her two crazy, hyper children. We ate pizza, too much. Brownies. The Moms had wine. There was a lot of yelling, some scolding, some dramatically loud storytelling, a good bit of mess, and a movie in the background which nobody paid much attention to. We talked of friendships and love and morals and parenting and doing the best we can and judgment and I felt so ok about my little, nothing apartment and my meager offerings and my attempts at hospitality, which are all grounded in love. I felt love and gave love and the night was filled with laughter and noise and not hand wringing, and that is a complete win.

Tomorrow morning, the kid and I will go downtown to the Cleveland women’s march. His first political protest. I have supplies, I have strategies. He is carrying a sign he made, and I will carry the American flag. Upside down, as it is in times of distress, because that’s what this is.

And yet we persevere, and continue to fight. Because I am an American, and I believe this country is for everyone, and this is my spirit, and I will make my voice heard.

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One thought on “I Set My Own Pace

  1. Good luck with the march. I watched the inauguration speech from the other side of the world, and kept thinking “this is all words – none of it is going to happen”…

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