Category: JC’s Confessions

JC’s Confessions #33

being high-maintenance

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

In recent months, I’ve become very high-maintenance.

Not a fan.

My style for years has been no-muss, no-fuss. My hairstyle doesn’t require blowdrying and products. I don’t wear make-up. My clothing style is simple. I can get ready to go out in five minutes or less.

I could spend most of my time and brainpower on more creative endeavors and helping others.

Now, it seems that taking care of myself has become a full-time job.

In attempts to improve my current state of health, there are physical therapy exercises daily and near-constant attention to my posture and head/neck position. Needed rest periods. An increasing complicated array of medications, including one that needs to be mixed in a full glass of water and drunk immediately – four times a day – which makes it a bit tricky if I have to be away from home for several hours. Trying to figure out what to eat and drink when a food recommended for dealing with one of my syndromes is excluded by another to the extent where I sometimes don’t know what to eat. Dealing with my AutoPAP machine. Fussing with dental care and retainers. Going to appointments and tests with so many specialists that I’ve lost track of them all and trying to get information coordinated among them and with my primary care doctor, because, of course, the practices, despite all the electronic records systems, can’t seem to do it. Doing research on the various symptoms and diagnoses and trying to piece everything together.

It’s time-consuming and frustrating and doens’t leave much energy or brainpower for the thousand things I’d rather be doing.

There is some hope.

Lately, my brain fog and fatigue have diminished and it seems that we are finally getting closer to a more comprehensive diagnosis and clinical outlook.

Maybe that will translate into an easier daily regimen.

I don’t think I will ever be low-maintenance again, but maybe medium?

JC’s Confessions #32

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

I am (perhaps overly) proud of my intellect.

It wasn’t always that way.

I was brought up with the ethos of “do the best you can” and the good fortune that my best fit in well with the expectations of schooling. That, coupled with a natural love of learning, landed me various honors. High school valedictorian, also attained by both my older and younger sisters. Phi Beta Kappa and summa cum laude at Smith College, where I was also the Presser Scholar in music my senior year. While I was thrilled to be recognized, I could chalk up the honors to my hard work and liberal-artsy curiosity rather than ascribing it to particular intelligence.

Developing pride came more as a self-defense mechanism when I was a young mom. I had chosen to be the full-time, at-home caregiver, facilitated by the time and place in which B and I were navigating parenthood. This was not, though, the lifestyle expected of a high-achieving, Seven-Sisters grad. Without the external validation of a paying job and in contravention of the “having it all” Super-woman model of the 1980s, I developed pride in who I was and what I chose to do – and do well, as I continued to do the best that I could – almost as a defense mechanism.

This quiet pride helped me navigate a number of challenges in our family life and in my volunteer work over decades, but pride is both a positive attribute and a “deadly sin.”

As many of you know, I’ve been struggling with a still-not-fully-diagnosed medical condition, now well into its second year, that has caused significant brain fog and fatigue. In particular, I’ve lost access to my creative side, which is a huge blow to my life as a poet, and my ability to research, synthesize, and think critically is diminished both in scope and duration.

It’s a difficult time in my life and made more so because my intellect has long been such a core part of my identity.

Who am I living with this disability?

How will I face the prospect of losing the life of the mind that I have cultivated and loved for so long?

I’ve been fighting my way through the medical maze to try to regain what I’ve lost but it’s not at all clear at this point that it will be possible. I also am facing the prospect that I could deteriorate further.

Can I remain proud of who I am?

I know the answer should be yes, in keeping with the dignity inherent in each person.

It remains to be seen if I can apply the grace I give to others to myself.

memorials

Today is the sixth anniversary of my mother’s death. I know many people who, even decades later, tell me they think of their deceased mother every day. I confess that I can’t make that claim. While I spoke to my mother nearly every day of my life, this became increasingly difficult in the last months of her life as her heart failure robbed her brain of oxygen. After her death, I had many months of flashbacks to those last difficult years, while also dealing with my father’s grief. He used to talk to and about my mother often, but, over time, his own heart failure erased the memory of her death. Toward the end, he would ask when she was coming to visit him in the skilled nursing unit and all I could say is that he would see her soon.

The photo above is of the memorials we placed at the memorial park where their cremains are inurned. I wrote this post explaining their significance when we placed them in 2022.

On Mother’s Day, I went to visit their resting place and was shocked to find that our memorials had been removed. I contacted the office, hoping that they had been placed in storage but they were just gone.

Alone in the room near my parents’ grave, I cried and told them I was sorry that these special memorials had been lost.

I think that is the only time that I have spoken aloud to my parents there.

My family has been supportive of me as I’ve dealt with the loss of these special and meaningful memorials to my parents. I’ve decided to print a photo of them and put it in a plastic frame to place on the table near their grave. That way, if it disappears, I would be able to replace it easily.

In the post linked above, I wrote about feeling more at peace when we placed the memorial. I think I had come to a place in living with loss where I could set aside the trauma of my parents’ final years and deaths and have better memories surface. I’m not sure if that is the point where I stopped thinking about my parents every day or not.

What I do know every day is that my parents gifted me not only with life but also with the foundation of who I am.

Their legacy is always with me, whether or not I bring it to consciousness.

JC’s Confessions #31

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

On April 6, 2025, Pope Francis appeared in public for the first time after returning home from his long hospitalization. It was at the end of a special Jubilee liturgy for the sick and health care workers and others who care for them. He had written the homily and a special blessing for the mass, although they were read by others. Francis wrote:

In this moment of my life I share a lot: the experience of infirmity, feeling weak, depending on the others for many things, needing support. It is not easy, but it is a school in which we learn every day to love and to let ourselves be loved, without demanding and without rejecting, without regretting, without despairing, grateful to God and to our brothers for the good that we receieve, trusting for what is still to come.

I am currently entering the second year of dealing with a complex medical situation that has not yet been fully diagnosed. I don’t know if I will be able to be adequately treated or if I will continue to see progression in my symptoms.

It’s hard.

I confess that I am not always gracious in this situation. I manage to let others do things for me and to ask for accommodations if I need them, but I find it difficult to set aside regret and to trust in the future.

This is especially hard for me in regard to my future as a poet. I don’t know if I will regain the creativity I’ve lost to brain fog and fatigue. I’m even losing the concentration and attention to detail needed to do submissions for my already existing poems and manuscripts.

I’m trying not to get to the point of despair.

These next few weeks are important in that I have a new batch of tests and specialist visits coming up.

Maybe having some more information about what is happening will help me to be better with being sick.

Maybe not.

I’ll try.

(I realized when I went back in my blog to find the number confession this was that this confession is, in a way, a continuation of #30.)

JC’s Confessions #30

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

I try to take mental notes as I go through life in order to give myself guideposts for the future, to give myself advice as needed.

I have watched, sadly, some instances when, as people struggled with medical conditions, they stopped doing things because they were embarrassed to be seen needing assistance or having to do things differently.

As I’ve been dealing with my still undiagnosed health problems since March, I’ve tried to keep some of my commitments going, even though that has meant making major accomodations. For example, I’ve sung the last two Madrigal Choir concerts seated because my balance problems have made standing without support to sing impossible. I also only made it through our afternoon rehearsals by lying down before rehearsal and during our break because it’s difficult to hold my head up unsupported as the day goes on.

I’ve put other commitments on hold totally, even though I get “can’t you just?” comments. The truth is that whatever I do comes at a cost. If I push too hard, I pay for it with a surge of symptoms and fatigue that can go on for days. I choose to do that for a limited number of things but I can’t do it for everything or I literally would not be able to get out of the house – or even out of bed.

We may be close to getting, at least, a partial diagnosis and some treatment, if I’m lucky. I’m alternating between hope and despondency. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this unsatisfying balancing act going.

Do I have the humility to keep asking for the accomodations I need to keep a few of my activities going or do I give up and wait to see if I can get back to doing all the things I want in the way I’m accustomed?

It’s difficult, because I’ve seen too many people lose some joy and time with friends waiting to get better when they never did. With my limited energy and brainpower, I’m fighting to keep some things going, when the alternative would seem to be losing them totally and, perhaps, irrevocably.

So, what am I confessing?

I know my health condition is not a sin. Or what I’m doing to try to cope. Or not being able to power through these situations.

But I do feel guilty for letting people down and not being able to do what I want and not having my accustomed creative and critical thinking skills.

Maybe not for much longer.

Maybe permanently.

SoCS: phones

I know I’ve written before about my troubled relationship with my cell phone, including in my JC’s Confessions series.

That was a while back and I can’t say that the relationship has gotten any better. I’m still not a fan of people thinking they can call or text me at any time and that I will respond. And by “people” I mean businesses and individuals who aren’t close family/friends.

Unlike most people, I don’t have my phone with me at all times and I turn it off at night. When I’m out and about, I usually have it silenced so that it doesn’t interrupt whatever I’m doing.

For the most part, I try not to give out my cell number. It annoys me that, in situations where I have to use it as a secondary or emergency contact number, places like doctors’ offices will default to using it, even though I’ve said that it is for emergencies only. I sometimes have to remove the number from my profile to get them to stop calling or texting.

I prefer to have people call my landline and leave a message if no one is availabe to answer. Then, I can return calls when I am available and have time.

I just don’t need the dentist office telling me I have an appointment the next day when I’m in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store.

In truth, I don’t use the phone as much as I used to. For decades, I spoke to my mom nearly every day by phone, usually even on days that I would be seeing her in person later on. She passed away in 2019 and my father in 2021. With B working from home and T living with us and E and her family in Europe, I don’t have any regular family phone calls anymore.

When the phone rings these days, it’s most likely to come up as “potential spam” on the caller ID.

The answering machine can handle that…
*****
Linda’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday this week is “phone.” Join us! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2024/09/13/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-14-2024/

JC’s Confessions #29

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

It’s been a hard few months.

More than a few?

Hard to keep track…

When I wrote this post at the end of October, I was re-organizing to structure my time for more poetry and less volunteering, but B’s COVID diagnosis in November, which turned into two weeks of him isolating in part of the house, leaving me responsible for keeping the household going, followed by daughter T’s shoulder surgery/aftermath in December left me with a lot to do, not a lot of holiday spirit, and very little creative brain availability. Thrown on top of this was the unexpected return of the threat of shale gas development, which we thought had ended with the New York State high-volume hydrofracking ban nine years ago, this time in the guise of an unproven scheme to use supercritical carbon dioxide to extract methane from shale and sequester carbon. This necessitated the reactivation of the coalition that won the fracking ban back then and hours of conference calls, research, and emails. Oh, and what I thought would be one or two local interviews for my alma mater turned into a series of zoom interviews across the region, taking a lot more time and energy than I had expected when I said yes to the opportunity. (There’s also some other personal and family health stuff going on, which I won’t go into here.)

I’ve been struggling with prioritizing and keeping my attention where it belongs to finish tasks. My best intentions to simplify have met with the reality tsunami and washed out to sea.

I am, though, not suffering as much as I was last January when I wrote JC’s Confessions #26. Then, I realized I was still grieving. I am in a different place in dealing with losses now.

We are spending a couple of weeks in February visiting our family in London, UK. This will get me away from most meetings. If I’m lucky, I’ll get a little bit of poetry time in the early mornings or late evenings to continue work on revision of my full-length manuscript. I’m attempting to line edit the whole thing and, perhaps, re-order it to prepare for work with a professional editor in April. It’s felt like fits and starts so far but I have worked on about 20% of the poems to this point.

I have followed through on my commitment to post daily for Just Jot It January but will be pulling back the post pace for February and trying to devote that time to poetry.

So, yes, organizing my time and following through on plans is still a work in progress.

And, come next January, there is a possibility that some version of this Confession will recur.

Or, maybe, I’ll finally stop feeling badly about having to re-vamp, re-adjust, postpone, and re-jigger my life so often.

I can hope.
*****
Join us for Linda’s Just Jot It January! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2024/01/28/daily-prompt-jusjojan-the-28th-2024/

JC’s Confessions #28

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

I tend to stick with social media platforms, even when they do objectionable things.

I admire those who have stopped reading/posting on Facebook/Meta, X/twitter, Substack, etc. in a principled response to their behavior, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to follow suit.

Instead, I’ve carved out my own way to shelter myself from misinformation and vitriol. I use tools and filters so that I see posts from people I follow rather than a general feed. I manage to block most advertisements. I interact with some platforms, such as Substack, nearly exclusively through articles being sent to my email rather than going to their site. I try not to read comments on political, environmental, religious, or anything-even-vaguely-controversial posts, because things get nasty quickly. I’ve recently started limiting the comments on some of my posts on X to only people that I follow to avoid being attacked over believing in fossil-fuel-driven climate change.

Part of the reason I’ve maintained my presence on some platforms is that there are people with whom I’m connected only there. It’s also because I’m afraid to lose any contacts that I have for my blog and my poetry. I don’t have a large number of followers, so I’m loathe to cut any of them off.

This strategy has been working okay for me for now, but that could change. I’m hoping that my posts create tiny moments of sanity for those that do happen across them.

I also want to thank those that have left platforms for calling attention to problems with social media. I applaud your voices and your commitment.

Maybe, someday, I’ll manage to follow your example.
*****
Join us for Linda’s Just Jot It January! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2024/01/22/daily-prompt-jusjojan-the-22nd-2024/

JC’s Confessions #27

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

JC

For decades, I’ve dreaded having to answer the question “What do you do?” or to fill in the blank for “occupation” or “profession” on forms.

Usually, those questions are about earning money and the truth is that I have earned very little money over my lifetime.

What I’ve been used to be called housewife, a term I never liked because it sounds like you are married to a house, not a person. I do sometimes choose the homemaker option from lists that don’t allow me to insert a customized response, although that term also seems too centered on the inanimate. I prefer the term caregiver as more reflective of my role as a daughter, spouse, mother, and grandmother. I think it is unfortunate that the current usage of caregiver has focused on the paid or unpaid work of caring for someone with medical needs, although I’ve dealt with more than the usual share of diagnoses among the generations of family involved.

I will often add volunteer, if I’m given the option. I’ve done many things as a volunteer that others are paid to do, such as church music ministry or facilitating a spirituality book study group. I did major committee stints when my daughters were in school, including a site-based decision making team, curriculum planning committees for music and gifted education, and high school honors program planning, for which the teacher participants were paid, a fact they tried to hide from me as they felt badly that I was spending a lot of time working on these things for free. I also spent a lot of time fighting fracking and advocating for action on climate change, although the vast majority of people doing that are volunteers, with just a few people who are paid to be community organizers. (We laughed when the fracking proponents accused us of being paid by George Soros or whomever, which we certainly were not, all the while knowing that some of them were actually being paid by fossil-fuel-company-financed front groups.)

In more recent years, as writing has become an important part of my life, I’ve wondered what to do with that. Should I list myself as a writer on forms? Is it disrespectful to the people who actually make a living as writers to call myself that? To date, I have never been paid to write, although when my chapbook Hearts is published in the coming months, I will make (a tiny bit of) money. On social media, I tend to list myself as poet/blogger. Most poets and most bloggers earn little-to-no income from those activities, so maybe that is a better descriptor than writer?

Or, now that I’m 62, maybe I should just give up and list myself as retired.

But retired from what? The caregiving, volunteering, and writing still go on…

JC’s Confessions #26

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

Ugh.

Folks who have been reading my blog regularly (thank you!) know that I have been dealing with a lot of loss and stress in recent years. I’ve been struggling to find energy to accomplish things and often feel like I can’t concentrate.

I’ve taken a lot of steps to cut down on what I’m trying to do in a day/week but there are still days that nothing of import gets started, much less done. I’ve tried to reach out for additional support but there are times when I can’t even manage to gather the energy needed to reach out and arrange to meet. Granted, the pandemic waves aren’t helpful, either.

I recognize from friends who study such things and from my reading that I am still grieving and that my brain is quite literally rewiring itself in line with my new reality.

A few weeks ago, I decided to try to shift my perspective. I decided to set aside some things I had been trying to do/worrying about and to give myself more grace/space to wait out the brain changes.

My doctor warned me it would be difficult and it is.

There have been little glimmers of hope. I’ve been able to arrange for some self-care appointments that I need. I’ve managed to post every day this month so far for Just Jot It January, although I confess I’m looking forward to February when that pressure I’ve put on myself will be off. I’ve made progress on preparing my chapbook manuscript for publication.

Overall, though, I am still struggling and struggling to accept that I’m still struggling, which is a large part of what I was hoping to do.

Maybe that is the way things must be for now.

I just need to accept it.
*****
Join us for Linda’s Just Jot It January! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2023/01/27/daily-prompt-jusjojan-the-27th-2023/