The Latest Beginning

Keep writing. Even when it’s tough. Especially when it’s tough! When you feel like it’s not working, like you have no idea what you’re doing, all you have to do is: not give up. Okay? I won’t if you won’t. Deal?

Winnie Holzman

If anyone asks, in my opinion Holzman & Schwartz (Stephen) did not make a diamond out of coal when they created Wicked the Musical from fragments of that steaming pile of nihilist, pornographic self-indulgence which is whats-his-name's novel. They made a diamond out of toxic waste. Meanwhile...

Hi. Let me reintroduce myself.

I know. It's been too long, six months since my last post. It's been hard enough just to hold life together, let alone write. Starting a year ago, I've been dealing with a series of Bad Things that just wouldn't let up. One after another, bang bang bang. I've written here about some of them.

I keep a tally of my writing time and I wrote more than ten hours a month in only two of the past twelve. My writing output is like a blood pressure reading for my psyche. Yeah, it's been rough. I hope it's over, this level of mishap. I hope life is settling down because I need to be able to take care of myself. And, I need to work.

Let's start at the end. I have moved out of my old home, involuntarily. The HOA up and decided with no notice, no vote and probably no legal leg to stand on to stop enforcing rules that are directly related to my health. I think the word "betrayed" is warranted. People I thought were friends completely steamrolled over my needs. It hurts. It's not fair. I've done everything I can to fight back and it wasn't enough. They got away with it.  

The move may ultimately turn out for the best, however. I was planning to move into Independent Living in a couple of years anyway. Doing so earlier is costing me (if I live to be 90) about 30K in Social Security, but amortized out over the coming years that's actually fairly painless. And, as it turns out, I may need more support sooner than I thought anyway. In the middle of the move, I developed severe pain and loss of function in my right leg and discovered I have arthritis in my back, hips and hands. My hands and right leg have particularly become severely painful. Hands, sporadically. Right leg, hip, knee constantly, with only moderate variations in intensity. My flexibility in that leg also is greatly reduced and I can now walk only about a quarter of the distance I used to be able to. I was disabled before by a disordered startle response, myoclonic jerking and constant vertigo, but now have to add the constant pain and loss of leg function as well. Now, I am a different kind of disabled and I'm still learning how it all works.

So, in my new home I have weekly housekeeping, great meals available in a gorgeous dining room, activities, transportation and wellness services, a great apartment all coinciding with much more pain and much less ability. I sold off about 75% of my belongings prior to the move, which I have wanted to do for a long time anyway. A person just accumulates a lot of flotsam over the years. I love having less stuff to fuss with. I'm not telling you about the view from my apartment because I don't want to dox myself, but it's amazing.

I am lucky in many ways. I am now living in a facility that can accommodate what my primary care doctor calls "escalating care." (We could use more eligible males, but that's true for most retirement communities.) I can financially support myself in providing for my needs. It turns out I already had the assistive devices -- canes, Nellie the Rollator --  needed to keep functioning. I have the support of a great friend/realtor and the family running the moving sale, above and beyond what was listed in any contract. By sheer luck and an unknown degree of providence, I do seem to have wound up where I need to be.

I am a different person now. I think I may be more patient and calm than before the constant pain started because I can't afford to let it take over me or my behavior. I've had to short circuit my frustration and rage responses not only to avoid hurting other people but also to avoid making my own pain worse. I'm more calm because I don't have a choice.

Since I moved to Arizona eight years ago, I've been seeing lizards on a regular basis. I love the little guys. I used to watch them hunt for bugs and compete for turf on my window screens when I was up late at night on the computer. The females are superheroes and frequently carry eggs that take up at least a third of their body weight. They seem to show up when I need company, especially outdoors when I'm having trouble walking. One even showed up on my moving day. They are spiritually associated with renewal and resilience and I'll take it. They're good company. They're also cute as hell. And of course I saw one out in the courtyard the second day after I moved in.

My new neighbor?

Over the past several months, I've also been seeing hawks. All over the place. All summer, they've showed up three or four in the sky over the local golf courses. (Most years we see maybe a quarter of that number.) And, once, about a month ago in the midst of working out bidding and buyers and sellers and showings, one skimmed the roof of my car and then flew back to perch in a tree directly in front of me. In the wild, hawks live to be about twelve years old. Around food-rich golf courses, I suspect they live a little longer. At any rate, this visitor was easily that old. His beak and feet were an impossible orange-yellow and marked with battle damage, the kind you see on sharks or whales who've been alive for decades. I used to find desert cottontails or pigeons (deceased) in my yard that probably were dropped by hawks or owls when they fought back. (I'll spare you the forensics, but the claw marks were obvious.) Maybe that's where some of that damage on the hawk's beak came from. He (?) stayed in front of my car for a couple of minutes and then flew off with an impossibly wide wingspan and dramatically striped wings and the distinctive Banded Hawk's wide, white stripe on his tail.

The day after I moved in, I was sitting by the pool allowing myself to do nothing. An enormous hawk with dramatic, narrow-band markings flew directly overhead at the height of about two stories and landed on the roof of our central services building. I found out later he's a regular visitor. The spot on the roof is probably too open and hot for nesting, but it does seem to be a favorite hang-out for this bird. He doesn't have a name, but many people living here know him. He is too large to be a Cooper's Hawk even though his markings seem similar. He doesn't have the same wide band as on the hawks I've been seeing over the golf courses. Maybe a Gray? I'm obviously a fledgling ornithologist, but at least I know s/he's magnificent. Spiritually, hawks are associated with navigating transitions and, again, resilience.

I don't care whether these animals are showing up by coincidence. Maybe coincidence is how blessings sneak their way into the world. I'm going to honor their message regardless. It's time for this writer to get back to work.