Catching a break is a fallacy

I've written a few times about being out of work and the financial hardships that come with unemployment.

I have a job, but it's only part-time. I really and truly like the job, so I don't want to lose it. I've come to grips with some of the financial sacrifices I've made since losing a job in 2015. Like living with my ex because I can't afford to live on my own. I'm not thrilled, but I'm not homeless.

Alas, 18 months of unemployment are not easily overcome, especially on a part-time salary. Part one of the problem is that I'm a crappy capitalist who hasn't figured out how to properly market her mindfulness facilitation credentials. Part two is that I'm afraid to jump back into the classroom full-time. I'm afraid that I'll get sick again. I'm worried that the next time I get sick will be the last time I get sick.

This is all prompted by a car repair that is going to hurt. It won't quite empty me out, but it has knocked me for a bit of a loop. It does mean that there won't be anything extra for months and months and months. It does mean that I completely regret planning a little trip in August to see Squeeze.

After I got off the phone with the mechanic, I found myself lamenting that I just want to catch one lucky break. Now that I've stopped crying, I think that lucky breaks are a fallacy. I think that society is arranged to make sure that those with the fattest wallets get the breaks. They can easily absorb an $800 car repair. Those of us who fall on financial hard times or who suffer chronic illness are far too easily swept away in dangerous currents. Far too many of us never get out of trouble.

I'll survive. I'll double down on offering my services, if even for just a small fee. I'll live without frills and fun for a long while. I'll deepen my meditation practice to help bring inner peace. I'll brace myself for the next wave that could drown me.

If you're able, I'll put this here: paypal.me/ToniACoral

I used to be too embarrassed to ask for help, but I've gotten over that.

Ride or Die

The summer is almost here. As a teacher, I should be excited. I get a couple of months to recharge my batteries and make some plans for the following school year. My favorite band is touring, though not coming to my hometown. I've made plans to meet up with out of town friends to go to a couple of shows.

I'm thrilled by that. Sadly, I kind of dread the rest of the summer. I don't really have a ride or die friend to whom I can turn if I really, really want to do something.

I got a real lesson two summers ago when I turned 50. I hate parties, but I wanted to celebrate, so I tried to organize a day of fun roaming around town, ending at night, perhaps drunkenly singing karaoke. I started asking people two months in advance. One person said she would go out to eat and that was it. I was out of work at the time, so I decided to save my money and stayed home.

I need to figure out how to improve this situation, otherwise I will either stay home all summer or go to a bunch of events on my own. I don't mind, I guess. I've been doing things on my own for a long time. I also know that I need to fix this problem before I am a full-fledged old lady. Loneliness is deadly.

The U.K. has gone so far as to appoint a Minister of Loneliness. I'd like to see more countries do something like this. Hmm, maybe this is something I could advocate for and help, rather than bemoan my fate. That sounds like a better plan.

A Disability is not an Advantage

The one aspect of the that has disturbed me most about the college admissions scandal is the fact that several of the wealthy parents faked medical disabilities for their children.

It's bad enough that they bought spots in schools that their children didn't deserve or even want. As the parent of a child with real disabilities, it's furious that these rich morons think that having a disability is some sort of advantage.

My son has Asperger's, a general anxiety disorder, and ADHD. If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would gladly give up the extra time he gets on tests and assignments. Extra time he doesn't even want to take because he worries that it makes him appear weak.

If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would and he wouldn't have been mercilessly bullied in seventh and eighth grade.

If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would and he would not have several small panic attacks everyday during which he freezes and tells himself that he's a bad person for making small mistakes.

If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would and he would understand how to read faces and help ease social interactions.

Those rich vacuous parents have no clue how hard a person with a disability works to manage and function in a world that generally doesn't understand disabilities, especially the invisible ones. Their children are like little trophies that mommy and daddy proudly display at cocktail parties. They brag about lies and their privilege as if they earned whatever their children may actually accomplished. I'm not even sure that they love their children as much as they love their own ego and reputation.

I'm not a perfect parent, by any stretch of the imagination. I am willing to accept my child for his strengths, faults, and struggles. In a way, I guess I feel sorry for them, as they don't appear to understand unconditional love.

Maybe a little withdrawal

About a month ago, I deactivated my Facebook. I really felt like I was frittering away too much time on my phone. I'm still getting the urge to sign on, but so far I've successfully fought off that urge.

I have been exercising more. I have been reading more. Those are pluses. I still need to add in watching some movies and writing more.

I still feel as lonely as I felt when I was on Facebook. This shouldn't surprise me, as loneliness has been a lifelong struggle. Facebook gave me (and probably many of us) the allusion of connection. My current social life is exactly what is was when I was on Facebook - nothing. I stay home every evening. I'm awaiting summer concert announcements. I don't have email, text, or phone conversations with folks (this is as much my fault as anything. I could initiate, but fight the feeling that I have nothing to share).

I think I'm happy with my decision. Much like I'm happy with my decision to not eat fries. I might have a craving, but I don't have to give into something that ultimately isn't good for me. I'll figure out the real life social stuff, because as a human I need to do so for my survival.

Reclaiming my time

It seems that we Americans (folks in the US) spend a significant amount of time staring at screens.  From this January 2018 article from Technology Review, that we see that we are spending nearly 24 hours a week on the Internet, 17.6 of those hours at home. That's a whole day we are losing to the various screens in our lives.

This August MarketWatch article provides numbers that are more dire - 11 hours a day looking at some sort of screen. I'm a simple English teach, but even I can do that math - three days a week are lost to screens.

I've been guilty, I can't lie. Just this past Saturday, I decided to deactivate my Facebook account. I also removed Twitter from my phone. I have to be careful, because the lie that my depression has always told me was that if I disappeared into thin air, no one would even notice. I didn't announce my decision, just did it. People are too busy staring at their screens for 11 hours a day to even notice that one person has "disappeared," so the numbers are helping to reduce my anxiety a bit.

Since Saturday, I've been to the gym twice (something my very overweight body needs) and have read many pages in two books that I'm trying to tackle. Plus, I'm putting a hit on a couple of cleaning projects at home. The need to "connect" plus my depression made social media a serious negative in my life. I would post and go back endlessly to see if anyone care enough to comment or like. I'm sure that other people manage better than me. As Emerson said, "Know thyself." I do and I've decided to turn off the screens as often as possible.

I put connect in quotation marks because I'm not really sure that real connection happens over social media. That isn't to say that I haven't made real life friends I met online through common interests. I have. I just think that only online connections are not as strong as if you interact on a regular basis in real life. That's the part I'm missing.

Perhaps I got lazy and presumed that any contact was good enough. It's not and I've missed out on too many hours scrolling through my phone. Time to live in real time, with real live humans in front of me.