It's Been a Minute

Grief  is one of those emotions from which we cannot escape. You can hide and run from it but it will catch up to you sooner or much later. I know of which I speak because have I loved and lost lovers, friends and family members. Losing a beloved pet, however, is an altogether different kind of grief that has no roadmap for processing.

I adopted Francisco 20 years ago under duress. I had a tuxedo cat as a child and didn't want the reminder of Kitty who disappeared under mysterious circumstances when I was 9 or 10. I searched high and low for the perfect non-tuxedo and also I wanted a female cat. Instead I got everything I didn't want: two male cats, one tuxedo and one black. The black cat died young, but Francisco lived on to be 18 years old. He became the center of my life. There for me during some of the most tumultuous periods of my life. 

He was fiercely protective. He functioned as a barometer for relationships that matched my worth. It was not unusual for him to use his mace-like paw to establish dominance, mark a border or punishment for some perceived slight. Frank grew to just under 20 lbs. by the time he was seven years old.  

When I moved to Italy he was too heavy to ride in the cabin. He had to fly in cargo which was a nerve-wracking experience for us both. At JFK I had to go through the metal detectors with him in my arms, all we had were each other making the transatlantic journey. He seemed to understand the moment and was exceedingly complaint even in the chaos of JFK's TSA. We had a brief layover in Germany in which he had to deplane and go through European customs. The Germans claimed they couldn't find his microchip and we would not be allowed to proceed. My German is rudimentary, but I made it clear that Francisco would not being staying in Germany without me. They quickly realized how much of problem this would be especially if it was their faulty equipment causing the issue. After a few phone calls were allowed to complete our journey to Vicenza.

We spent the next seven years in Italy where he outlived two other cats in our household and escaped a devastating house fire that almost claimed my life. He took refuge on the roof of the apartment building during the fire and was waiting on the couch for help to come get him. 

In 2017 we moved to Savannah spending a few months in a hotel before finding our home in the suburbs. He was a companion and also a deep source of comfort, but he began to show signs of age in 2019. He developed a heart problem, then kidney disease. He was on several medications. He disliked all of them and could detect them in his food. He would refuse the food tainted with his lifesaving meds, but age and disease took some of the vigor out of him and I could subdue him with effort and administer the meds. 

Medication can only do so much. He began to loose weight, suffer incontinence and constipation. Last year in February at his final veterinary visit I was faced with the decision to end his long life. He was not getting better and his quality of life had diminished too much to justify a continuation. I knew this day was coming and yet I was not prepared for the despair that engulfed me. 

We had to break the news to our son, but he had a friend's birthday party to attend so we held off on telling him for a few days. When he asked when Francisco was coming home we said he needed to spend a few days with the doctor. Eventually we had to tell him which was a fresh wave of pain.

The grieving process for a beloved pet is very different than grieving a human. Francisco gave me an unconditional love that was unlike any human relationship. He was also wholly dependent on me for all his needs and therefor a large power differential.

My veterinary hospital made a donation in Frank's name to the University of Georgia's Veterinary Hospital. He was cremated. The veterinarian sent his ashes back with a tuft of his hair. I intended to take Frank back to Brooklyn to spread his ashes, but on a recent trip to NYC I realized it was better to keep him with me. We are both better off together. 

All the Light We Can See Is for Us

Last time on The Cat I was in full bloom heading home from acupuncture and feeling not just like myself but more like a new self. Ready to celebrate coming through a health challenge. I considered what I learned about my body over the past few months. Comfort, security and strength were all diluted as I  muddled through fits of uncontrolled emotions and unease in my body. I fostered a new relationship with my body. I listened with intention to what my body was telling me to figure our what was needed. In that listening I found a deep well of courage. I know for sure the universe has my back, and with that knowledge I knew I could do anything. 

What do you do when you believe you can do anything? You go to a Beyonce concert. I won't bore you with the details of the emergency hair appointment or the the jumpsuit that languished in my closet for seven months prior to the concert. Suffice it to say I drove the 247.1 miles to Atlanta and had the time of my life.

After months of not recognizing my body, I found new regard and security than I ever before. I had come through a period of darkness and that allowed me to see more light than ever. Until next time on The Cat.

My Summer of 2023 Renaissance

Last time on The Cat I was discussing options with my GYN. According to her, we had a bevvy of options from which to choose. I trusted her and was ready to explore. The first tool in her toolkit was low-dose birth control. It promised an end to the the roller coaster of emotions, pelvic pain and hot flashes. Sign me up!

The initial weeks on this protocol were phenomenal. I felt better than I had in months. My energy was up and my pain was down. My general outlook on the world was positive and optimistic. Low-dose birth control where have you been all my life? I wondered why I hadn't done this before. Things were looking up. I began to use the membership we have at the YMCA. Lifting weights, building muscle, and looking good.

By the second month the tides were turning, in the wrong direction. Summer was in full swing. Hunter and I decided to try FOUR different summer camps this year. With my job at The Savannah Book Festival my schedule gave me the flexibility to try camps with hours and locations that were previously out of reach.

Along with a diverse sampling of summer camps, Hunter had a two-week trip to Chicago, and I had a week in NYC planned for work. It all went off without a hitch, except for the mood swings. They were back. 

Spikes of fury and exasperation, some provoked others outsized reactions to normal inconveniences became frequent occurrences. A few other unmentionable symptoms kept me awake at night pondering the purpose of low-dose birth control and my harried existence. I traded my life for an existence. I was not living. I suffered physically in ways that sent me spiraling into despair one moment and feeling awkward and uncomfortable in my body the next. 

With the side effects outweighing the benefits, I ended my relationship with my GYN, and her protocol. Instead, returning to my acupuncturist and an herbal treatment plan. Within days I felt better. I emerged from a fog of incoherence like Italian Renaissance painter Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. I was refreshed, sharp and filled once again with my robust, impulsive life force.

As I basked in the newness of my post-hormone replacement therapy emergence, an urge to celebrate my survival and reinforcement of my ability to trust myself above all else became imperative. 

What better way to celebrate my renaissance than with Beyonce's Renaissance tour. Until next time on The Cat.

I Had My First Hot Flash in 2019

The aging process is inevitable. A reflection of our inability to control time. Although we can have an influence on how we experience time as well as the aging process we can't stop it, move it forward or reverse. All this to say I'm perimenopausal, which is not awesome most of the time. 

Moving into middle age is not for everyone, but we all have to do it. For women this process can be harrowing. As we produce less estrogen and progesterone because we are moving out of our reproductive years, our bodies awkwardly adjust. For some it's a breeze, a walk in the park, nothing particularly memorable. For others, namely me, it's a bumpy ride toward menopause. 

I had my first hot flash in 2019. It was unmistakable. Like the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion I remember exactly where I was when it happened. I was at work, one the many jobs I have had since my arrival in Savannah, when I felt an unusual heat rising in my pelvis. Not just my pelvis, but in my vaginal canal. You know that saying: Stick it where the sun don't shine? Well it felt like the sun was shinning inside me with a heat and intensity that caused the rest of my body to at first warm and then, God help me, burst into flames of sweat. It was fast-moving, powerful, and propulsive. I thought the heat was going somewhere, taking me somewhere I didn't know, but might be fun? The heat continued to build expanding from my pelvis upward into my abdomen, my chest cavity, my neck and finally my head. Within seconds I was covered in sweat. My bra and panties wet with perspiration. And then, just like that, it was gone. 

What just happened? Have you seen the animated series on Netflix: Hilda? Hunter and I love to watch this show. There's an episode where Hilda uses a witchcraft spell to help her mother and best friend achieve their heart's desire. Her plan goes awry when even though her mom gets her dream job, and David gets a solo in the school choir, the payment is their SOULS. As Hilda, David and her mom careen through the streets of Trollberg to the site where they can undo the spell, both David and Hilda's mom fall into myoclonic convulsions from which they emerge amnesic of the previous 90-second fit.

 

This is what a hot flash is like. For a short burst of time I felt hot enough to lose consciousness and then suddenly my bodily functions returned to homeostasis as quickly as the heat began. As I sat in office in my wet underwear (ideal conditions for yeast propagation), I considered what just happened. As I tried to describe it to a friend I diagnosed the condition with my description. I said the strangest thing just happened to me. I had a flash of heat come over me quickly and then leave. I gasped, cupped my palm to my mouth with a popping sound, and whispered: I just had a hot flash. It was a revelation of epic proportions.  

The symptoms in the months and years that followed were recurrent, with mysterious triggers. New indicators of my perimenopausal existence appeared. Mood swings that swung from despair to white hot anger were illogical, unprompted and profuse. Lethargy, inability to focus and pelvic pain joined this unholy diagnosis. 

My gyn reminded me at every annual that if symptoms became too uncomfortable, I had options. By May of this year I was ready to explore my options. Until next time on The Cat. 

When One Thing Ends Another Begins

Last time on The Cat I chose motherhood over career which was intimidating and the opposite of what I typically do. I am a Capricorn that means I am driven, goal oriented and safety seeking. Taking the leap out of full-time work scared me, but watching my son's face when I took him to school and picked him up everyday told me everything I needed to know. I made the right the decision, and it was going to be ok. 

I spent the weeks after TEDx adjusting to my friend's and family's recognition that I am a 9/11 survivor. That I struggle with that description was a surprise to many. There was a period of adjustment for us. In the meantime, I looked for work. Not with very much intention. I set parameters around the kind of work that could meet my needs instead of the other way around. After a few short weeks a software company came calling. I approached the process with a light touch. Unsure if full-time remote was what I wanted, they made me an offer that was too hard to refuse. 

Before I knew it I was working fulltime remotely with colleagues in three different time zones, using equipment and platforms that were both new and intimidating. The first few days were exhilarating. The weeks that followed were tough. A new industry and a culture that was foreign to me in ways that left me bewildered. As the summer came to a close and Ryan prepared to leave for foreign adventures, I realized it was not a good fit. Although it was a WFM position, it was not as flexible as I hoped. 

Hunter was stuck at a nearby summer camp where he watched more Disney movies than I have ever seen. It was the only camp that could accommodate my hours, but I wanted much more for Hunter's summers. I left the WFH gig and sought greener pastures. I spent the next few weeks supplementing summer camp with park days, play dates, and boardgames. Hunter and I spent time together doing things we both enjoyed. I also took sometime to figure out what was next for me professionally. I asked myself some questions such as how much cash do I have on hand, and how much do need? Not how much do I want, but how much do I need? Next I asked what I wanted. Flexibility was at the top of the list, and fun was next. I began to pray for a job that I would do for free, but of course would pay. It wasn't long before the position at The Savannah Book Festival sparked my interest.

When I arrived in Savannah in 2017 at the behest of one of my best friends, I networked. I volunteered, attended, and accepted every invitation that was extended to me. TEDx and the Savannah Book Festival being my favorites. I saw an announcement that they were looking for an Assistant Director. The job description was a good fit. It was advertised as part time, which meant I would have the flexibility I needed.

The outgoing Executive Director remembered my competence and outgoing personality. With a good word from her and my participation in online and in-person events the job was mine. I started my new position a few days later. The new job meant I would spend my days recruiting award-winning and debut authors to one of the most prestigious book festivals in the country. I spent the next few months reading more books than I ever had in my entire life in preparation for the festival. It also meant I would be reunited with one of my favorite authors, Douglas Preston. 

I Have My Reasons for the Delay... and They Are Good Ones

Last time on The Cat, I gave a TEDx talk. An experience that took almost a year to recover from. I have very good reasons for the delay. First, I got COVID. I laid on the couch at home in recovery from my Talk and all the powerful emotions that came with it.  I also felt like someone kicked me in the throat. One minute I was fine. Just feeling a bit tired. The next, I couldn't swallow.

Over the next 48 hours, my symptoms increased in severity. Aches and pains, followed by a fever and sore throat. Hunter had the flu a week before. I was certain it was the flu so I took Dayquil and worked from home with my camera off and declined to opportunities to speak.

By Wednesday of the next week, I went to Urgent Care asking for a Z-Pak to speed up the process of the flu. It was the end of June in Georgia and temps were well above 90, and yet I sat in my car with the heat on shivering. 

Surprise, I tested negative for the flu. Bewildered, I began to gather my things to head home and continue my DayQuil treatments. The PA suggested a COVID test, which I thought was absurd. I went along with him and after almost 20 minutes I tested POSITIVE. I couldn't believe it. Even after I spent a day in an auditorium filled with 200 people, I wasn still in disbelief. I shook hands with strangers, hugged my coaches repeatedly, and snacked on continental-styled hor d'oeuvres. I still had a tough time accepting the diagnosis. 

I had two doses of Moderna and a booster. You can read all about the fun I had here. How could I possibly have COVID? As many of us have learned, it doesn't matter how or why the vaccine performs the way it does because the vaccine is not a prophylactic. At best, it will decrease the severity of symptoms, but it cannot prevent them. 

I spent the next few days sleeping as much as I could and dreading the time I needed to spend in front of my computer. It took a few weeks to feel normal again. And by then I hated my new job. I left the job I had for three years to spend more time with Hunter. Only to realize working from home solved some of the conflicts of Ryan's travel schedule presents, but not all. Facing down the barrel of motherhood is a defining moment in every mother's life: your child or your career. 

The wise women among us say we can have it all, just not all at once. I have so much and I have deep gratitude for it all, but I knew I had to start thinking about work differently. Hunter is at the age where he needs more and with Ryan gone most of the time and family in NYC and Chicago. I'm all he's got. I needed work with much more flexibility. And that my dear friends is exactly what I got. Until next time on The Cat.

Some Words Are Best Said in My Voice

On Friday, June 24, 2022, the long delayed TEDx Savannah live event was held at the Yamacraw Center for Performing Arts. I love all things TED. It was one of my tethers to the cultural movements at home during the Italian years. There certainly were times I thought I could do a TED talk. Or wouldn't it be fun to do a TED talk, but I never imagined that it would arrive in my grasp, but it did.

The road to TEDx was a winding path of self-discovery, courage and mental toughness. I was a TEDx Savannah volunteer in 2018. It was one the most thrilling experiences of my life. I didn't understand then what moved people to take on such an opportunity for growth. All the work for applause didn't make sense. Things began to shift for me in 2019. I reframed the idea into what my message could mean for others. That my journey and experiences could add value to the lives of others began to take shape. 

That's the boldness of giving a talk such as TED or TEDx. I imagine super famous people are invited to give TED talks, but TEDx is different. As speakers, we decide that our message has value and pursue our chance to get on stage.  

I had a few hurdles to cross to get to that stage. Including a massive panic attack on my way to the most incredible mall in the world, which happens to be located across a massive bridge in Jacksonville, FL. There was also the emcee's email stating I had PTSD, which sent me into a spiral so intense that it altered my speech and my perception to accept that I do in fact have PTSD. Everyone around me knew it accept me. I was repeatedly reminded of that fact as I tried to distance myself from that reality, even in my talk. What a gift to receive. All of those experiences afforded me the opportunity to see myself as deserving of grace, tenderness and love.

The link doesn't go live for another few days. Big TED has to review and approve. Next steps are to allow the rest of this journey to unfold as the universe intends. I allow for things to stay as they are (unlikely) or something fascinatingly better to come into being a new reality.