No More Pretending

This morning, Nov 6th, 2024 is strangely quiet. It could just be my imagination, but I suspect not. Last night things looked to be sliding away so I went to bed about 10:30. I was oddly nonattached to the results of the election I cared so deeply about. It just felt as if the world shifted and I was simply going to have to navigate this new, odd, greedy universe. At 05:00 I woke and decided to check my computer. I had AAP's election results page open. I had to refresh the page and it first went to a map without any results at all. That was disconcerting. Then it popped up with the actual results. I went back to bed and lay awake trying to decide what I felt. I was numb and reflective. It's a tough truth to accept that we are such a frightened, misogynistic, racist country. I was genuinely hopeful that people with genuine empathy and compassion were the majority of my country. Now I was hit with the realization that we have two accused rapists on the Supreme Court and just elected a multiple felon, who is also an accused multiple rapist, and proven fraudster, as the leader of our country. And why? Because people were upset with the increased cost of living. And undocumented immigrants. Why are things more expensive now? Because a global pandemic shut down most economies and trashed supply chains. And when that happened, the criminal we just re-elected made the pandemic much worse through a gross failure of leadership. And why are undocumented immigrants a perceived problem? Because humans like simple answers. Even though such things do not exist in the real world. It's so much more comforting to blame the issues of your country on others. It takes so much less effort than trying to hold leaders in politics and business to a high standard. Those are the thoughts I was pondering. And then I had to face the facts. We are not a bright shining beacon on the hill. We don't trust women or anyone who isn't pasty white to be in charge in any meaningful way. Why? We're so fond of pretending otherwise. We also pretend to be overwhelmingly Christian, yet we don't follow the words or deeds of Jesus Christ. It's really getting exhausting living amongst dishonest, cowardly people. If you don't trust women, or you believe melanin has a direct tie to superiority, please for the love of Christ just say so! If people just stopped pretending, it would be easier to begin challenging those beliefs. Buy hey, we don't like to challenge, or be challenged. As long as we are comfortable in our immediate homes, we really don't care what happens to anyone else.

Another Face of Grief

 

Having a lovely meat pie in Placerville

I am writing this blog post to explain why I posted my alarming note on Facebook a few days ago.  I’ve since removed it.  But I realize many of my friends and family were alarmed, and I would like to publicly apologize for any distress it caused.  I would also like to express my sincere appreciation and love for all those who reached out in support and concern.

It’s been a very challenging year for me, and for many close to me.  A year of transitions both planned, and unforeseen.  I have mostly recovered form the trauma of my daughter’s suicide 5 months ago.  Well, at least I have reconciled myself with it.  But, a few days ago, I really lost it, once more. 

Our mother has been suffering increasingly from dementia for a few years.  It was brought on by several small strokes.  In the past month it became glaringly apparent she could no longer live in her place.  My sister lives next door, but the level of supervision became such that she and I had to split our time to make sure Mom was not left alone.  After much searching my sister and I agreed on a memory care facility for Mom to move to.  Our mother was likely the first woman in LA Harbor to earn a USCG 100 ton Ocean Operators license.  She owned and operated the vessel: Neptune II.  Over the course of 30+ years she scattered thousands of human cremains at sea off San Pedro.  She was also an avid hiker, going out nearly every Wednesday with a local hiking club.  She’s covered more miles and trails in the local mountains that I ever will.  She managed the family finances ever since marrying my father in ‘50’s.  I tell you this because it illustrates how independent and in control she has always been.  So, to watch her slowly transition, from a well known and loved local entrepreneur, to a state approaching childhood has been difficult, well, heartbreaking. 

Last week I drove Mom up to Auburn, CA to visit her sister and to look at a property.  She has had it in her mind lately that she was going to purchase the old Wolf Post Office owned by a childhood friend.  She recalls visiting her friend and his mother at some point, long after leaving Wolf the day after high school graduation.  In her mind that visit was 2 or 3 years ago.  I am pretty sure it was more than 30 years, possibly even 50.  Such is one of the manifestations of dementia, time becomes largely meaningless.  I had done some research and realized the old Post Office building had been moved many years ago.  My sister phoned our uncle, and learned Mon’s old friend had passed away about 8 months ago.  I knew though, the only way to break Mom of this fantasy, was to take her there and show her the area.  If I didn’t, she would continue to look into packing up the house for a move that was never going to happen.  We decided that while I was up North, my sister and my girlfriend would move some of Mom’s furniture into a room at the memory care facility we had chosen.  It would then fall to me to come up with a story about why she was moving into a new place instead to returning to her house.

I decided to tell her the house needed major repairs (more true than I realized) and that we had booked her a room at a resort while the work was being accomplished.  I waited, and only told her this on the last day of our journey.  When I brought it up, she was initially fine with the idea.  Mind you I don’t know how much of it she really processed.  Also, that same day, I heard from the mortuary, telling me the final death certificates were available for my daughter.  Mom and I arrived at the “resort” and began checking in.  She was a bit confused why the room furnishings looked so familiar.  I explained that we had brought some of her furniture, needlework and photos to make her feel more at home.  She was nervous and somewhat confused, but going along with the story.  Another aspect of dementia is that the degradation of mental capacity is not even, or uniform.  People can have sudden moments of apparent lucidity.  I took her to look over the facility.  Looking at the courtyard she commented “this is a very nice hospital”.  I assured her it was not a hospital as people were not hooked up to IV’s and monitors and she acknowledged “oh, that’s right”.  After an hour and a half, I was preparing to leave.  She suddenly looked panicked and frightened.  She thought I’d be staying with her.  I hugged her, kissed her forehead, and she asked if I’d be back the next day, I assured her I would. 

As I walked through the doors my eyes were already filled with tears.  When I got to the car, I completely broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.  I felt that I had just lied to get my mother to go into this place, that she knew I was lying, but was going along with it.  And worst, that she was terrified and I had abandoned her.  I couldn’t just sit there in the parking lot sobbing, so drove a few miles to a trailhead where I was off the road.  I spent the next two hours unconsolably sobbing and crying in anguish.  It was just too much for me, the one last straw.  Though I rarely post publicly about my emotional state, I did then.  Though I didn’t want anyone to see me.  And I didn’t want anyone to try and console me.  I felt like I had to scream out in pain to everyone.  It was horrible.  After posting I shut off my phone.  An hour or so later I realized I should add to the post, as it was no doubt causing alarm.  Eventually I reached out to my sister, who had been trying repeatedly to reach me.  She and my girlfriend had been worried that I was going to harm myself.  They drove out to get me as I’d told them I could not drive.

That was the second day this year I felt grief so intense I thought would destroy me.  I am still a bit shaken.  I ate an anti-depressant yesterday to help me function. 

Placing our mother into memory care was the right thing to do.  But just because something is right, and an easy intellectual decision, does not make it an easy emotional decision.  This was one of the most difficult things I’ve done.

Again, I thank all of you who reached out.  I forget how many people genuinely care about me.  It’s been a challenging year so far.        

This Sucks More Than Anything Has Ever Sucked Before

 

Yesterday was one of the hard days.  Days are fuzzy now, dates as well.  I am never sure if a day is going to be OK or not when I get up.  Yesterday was a bad one.  It wasn’t until I went to set my watch today that I realized yesterday was the 16^th.  Hannah passed away last month on the 16^th.  Ouch. 

I greatly appreciate all the people who have, and continue to reach out to offer support.  But, I am not trying to answer the phone much, or respond immediately to the texts and e-mails.  I find that when I talk to people about my grief, or about Hannah’s life, it is very painful.  I end up either deeply sad or emotionally hungover.  Everyone handles such things differently.  Some folks need to be around others, for both support and distraction.  I’m a bit different.  I need quite a bit of time alone to process this terrible event.  My weekly snow hikes help to keep me centered and grounded.  They are a distraction I suppose.  Hiking in deep, steep snow requires being in the moment. 

The dreams are not as frequent as they were last month.  I can’t call them nightmares, but they are not far form that.  I dream of situations I can’t resolve.  Having to be someplace, and being unable to get there.  The irrational thoughts about my other children are still an issue.  I’ll wake late at night, close to panic, fearing one of my other children is lying dead someplace.  Knowing it isn’t true doesn’t reduce the anxiety much. 

Among all this processing, life continues unabated.  I still have taxes to file, vehicles to register, a memorial to plan.  My sister is taking our mom to the ER as I write this.  She fell in the kitchen and has a nasty knot on her forehead.  She fell in the past due to mini-strokes.  I worry that this may be another episode.  Our mom’s health has been declining for several years now: the mini-strokes, dementia, COPD.   I’ve had time to consider that I need to write a eulogy for her, while things are still OK, while I am still clear headed.  It never occurred to me I’d have to write a eulogy for dear Hannah.  I honestly don’t know if I can.  I can barely muddle through helping to plan her memorial. 

2022 is shaping up to be quite a challenging year.  But life never stops to allow you to grab a breath.  So it goes.   

My Heart Has Been Shattered

 I am still processing the death of my daughter.  She wouldn’t want me to refer to me as her daughter when she was alive, but now she won’t mind.  I have always considered the death pf a child a terrible, terrible event for a parent.  But that was an intellectual knowledge.  I never even considered what it must feel like to have my heart shattered.  That is the image in my mind, my heart broken into thousands of ragged shards.  When I think of Hannah the first image that floods my mind is her lifeless body on the floor of her room, face down, arms at her sides, cold to the touch, unmoving, unresponsive, unoccupied. 

It’s common practice to refer to the death of a 29 year old as untimely.  I can’t look at Hannah’s transition in that light.  In the past year she told me more times than I can count that she never thought she would be alive this long.  She lamented that she was way behind in figuring out how to live.  Hannah had schizoaffective disorder.  She heard voices that told her terrible things and made her life unbearable.  She was never comfortable in a physical body and often had pains and discomforts.  She only lived to help others, and because she knew she was greatly loved.  We thought the suicide attempts were at an end.  As difficult as life was for Hannah she knew that if she harmed herself, she would be harming many, many others in the process.  Sometime on the 15^th, or early on the 16^th, the pain was too much.

I am writing about this because I need to process it in my own mind.  I am writing about it because I feel it should be documented from my viewpoint.  This is only my view.  Everyone who knew Hannah will see things differently.  I can’t think of that.  All I can do is try to heal myself, my very broken self. 

I was told recently that I need to focus on healing myself.  This was before Hannah’s departure.  There are traumas in my distant past that have shaped me.  I was advised strongly to stop trying to save others and address my own traumas.  It was that advice that helped fuel an argument with Hannah 5 days before this terrible event.  I am now searching to forgive myself because I feels like the proximate cause of her departure.  There were other factors.  About a month ago she stopped taking her meds for 4 days in a row.  So, she was still adjusting to being back on meds.  Ultimately life was unbearable for her, just life in general.  I know if she had been saved at the last moment and awoke in a hospital bed she would not have been grateful.  I know this because she told me as much.  Now finally, after far too many years Hannah is at peace.  She is resting, healing.  But my hears still bleeds uncontrollably. 

I was told I needed to focus on myself. But I am now doing my best to be the strong one for several people.  In between bots of deep grief.  At the same time I have suspected my immediate friends and family are worried for me.  It seems I am not to be left alone.  That is how it feels at any rate.  I am humbled by all the love and concern for me.  I also know I need some time alone.  Time to write.  Time to grieve, to let the pain and loss wash over me.  I feel like I’ve been poisoned and there is no antidote.  All I can do is allow the poison to run its course.  I will live through it, but it’s not going to be pleasant. 

 

 Symptoms: Schizoaffective disorder

Symptoms include:

• Bizarre delusions
• Hallucinations (visual and/or auditory)
• Thought insertion
• Thought broadcast
• Thought withdrawal
• Depression
• Mania: sudden increase in energy
• Problems with communication
• Odd behavior
• Disorganized thinking
• Inability to correctly perform routine daily activities

 

Causes

• The exact root cause is unknown. Several factors contribute to the condition:
• Genetic predisposition: an increased tendency to develop the condition may be inherited
• Brain chemistry changes
• The risk factors include:
• Having family history of close relative with schizoaffective disorder, schizophrenia or bipolar disorder
• Psychoactive drugs are linked to the development of schizoaffective disorder
• Stressful events such as death, divorce can trigger the symptoms

 

Prevention

There is no assured way to prevent schizoaffective disorder

• Control stressful events
• Boost self-esteem
• Get early treatment to prevent relapses and need for hospitalization
• avoid consumption of psychotropic substances

 

Complications

Uncontrolled for prolonged period may lead to complications such as:

• Increased risk of suicidal attempts
• Social isolation
• Anxiety disorders
• Family and interpersonal issues
• Developing alcohol and other substance abuse issue
  

Afghanistan 2021

 Kabul fell to the Taliban less than a week ago.  I’ve had friends here and in Pakistan as what I thought about it.  I’ve been trying to draft this blog post ever since.  It’s difficult because there is so much that floods my mind when I think of Afghanistan.  I’ve been following developments in Afghanistan since just before the USSR entered in force in 1979.  I decided that rather than focus on Bush’s stupid decision to rebuild the Afghan Govt in 2002, or on Trump’s selling out the Afghan Govt to the Taliban during talks in Doha, I’d just concentrate on what I know from first-hand experience.

 

I spent 2 deployments supporting Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF).  The first was in 2009 at Bagram, Afghanistan.  I was stationed at Bagram but traveled to Kabul, Jalalabad, Hairatan, Sharana and the Panjir Valley.  Most of this travel was in civilian vehicles with contractors whose petroleum distribution sites I was inspecting.  I was there for over 6 months.  Then in 2013/14 I spend 15 months working at the embassy in Islamabad, Pakistan providing logistics support for the Pakistani military.  Before traveling to Pakistan I was told by Medal of Honor recipient Dakota Meyer that I was nuts to go there.  He was of the opinion the Pakistanis and Taliban were inseparable.  I understand why he thought so.  But, I also see the complexities in much greater detail than he does. 

 

I still have a number of Pakistani friends.  In Afghanistan, I was largely prevented from having much contact with Afghans.  My experience, with the Afghans I did come into contact with, was mostly positive.  It was a strange place to be.  It’s a beautiful, country.  The people are like people everywhere, they want life to be a bit better.  They want their children to have things a bit better than they do.  But when I arrived, they had been involved in either civil war or armed occupation for 31 years.  Farming families in parts of the country had lost the knowledge of properly farming.  It’s a strange thing to visit a place so ravaged repeatedly by conflict.  If things calm down I will go back.  There is so much I still want to see there. 

 

I was not surprised by how quickly the Taliban rolled up the country.  Afghanistan is famous for being tribal.  If you want to understand what that actually means please read “The Secret History of the Mongols”.  It is a biography of Genghis Kahn written shortly after his death.  It illustrates, how in tribal societies, tribes and villages with shift allegiances based on their best interests, rather than some abstract construct like nationalism or ethnicity.  The military largely saw that the government didn’t have US support.  The government had been cut out of the peace talks between the USA and the Taliban.  When the Taliban began taking over border crossings, I am certain the Afghan military saw the writing on the wall, and decided to switch sides.  The same thing happened in 2001/2 when the US entered the country.    

 

Am I concerned?  Yes.  But I am also cautiously optimistic.  The Taliban who ran the country from 1996 to 2001 lost scores of leaders in the 20 years the US was there.  They are not the same organization.  The country has had quite a bit of foreign influence over those same 20 years.  So, the population, their expectations and experiences, have also changed.  But ultimately it is, and has always been, up to the Afghan people to decide their own method of governance.  The USA had a very heavy hand in the formation of the Afghan Govt that replaced the Taliban.  It was terribly corrupt and inefficient.  Now governance is squarely back in the hands of the Afghan people.  If the majority of Afghan’s decide the Taliban do not represent them well, another civil war will erupt.  If though, the Taliban moderate their approach, perhaps Afghanistan will finally be on a path toward peace.

 

I have a great deal of criticism for the way the situation was handled by Western powers.  But I don’t think the deaths and casualties we suffered were in vain.  Time will tell.  If the violence on Afghanistan abates, then those losses will have helped the people of Afghanistan.  I’ll be paying attention, as I always have.  It’s a beautiful place full of proud people.  I with Afghanistan the best of luck in their movement forward.      

       

Visit to a Past Life

Mt Baldy (San Antonio) and West Baldy from the North                                     

The other day I climbed up a ridge I had only been on once before.

Looking down at North Fork Lytle Creek

Back 17 years ago I decided to climb a mountain for my birthday.  This despite the forecast of a storm.  I was thinking that if conditions got too bad I would turn around and return without bagging the summit.  Most of my friends and family know this story well so I won't recount here... though I may add it in the future.  Long story short: I made it to the summit of Mount San Antonio (Mt Baldy).  Then after a quick 15 minute stay walked off the north side in the near whiteout conditions.  I thought I was walking off the south side.  oops.  I worked my way down the steep snowy slope expecting to cross the Manker Flat trail, but never found it.  Instead I eventually reached a 2 meter drop off I could easily drop down but could not have come back up.  Not knowing what was past that drop I opted to begin climbing back up the slope in the direction I thought would get me closer to the trail-head.  Of course I still believed I was on the other side of the mountain.  I worked my way to the summit of Dawson Peak and spent the night on the steep slope in an emergency bivy sack.  The next day I worked my way down a long ridge to the wash below.  Once I got to the wide wash I finally recognized that I was in Lytle Creek and not above Baldy Village.  It was a rude awakening.  6 miles later I got to a house and asked to borrow the phone.  A very long ordeal was over.
 

Ever since that long ago birthday I struggled to understand the mistakes I made, the route I took.  It was a few years before I realized the cairn I kept to my left when walking off the summit was not what it seemed.  That cairn had been repurposed into a windbreak.  In the poor visibility what I mistook for the cairn was a windbreak next to the North Backbone trail.


My memories of the event and compressed, fragmented and a bit fuzzy.  I was quite fatigued by exhaustion and stress when I reached the drop off and decided to climb back up.  I found some game trails and saw trees cut by chain saws.  Both convinced me I was heading the right way.  When I reached the summit of Dawson, not realizing where I was, I saw human footprints before the snow covered them.  I was following those thinking I was on the right track.  Near the summit it was getting late in the day.  The temperature had dropped.  I decided I had to layer up.  Pulling off my Gore-Tex and donning my heavy fleece I had real trouble zipping my jacked.  My fingers were very numb and I was on the verge of panic.  I realized I had waited too long to put on more layers and that if I couldn't zip my jacked my chances of survival were not good.  I hiked until about 20:30 when it was far too dark to continue and after slipping I had snapped one of my trekking poles.  That's when I found a small tree to curl up under the  shiver the night away.

Mt Harwood and Mt San Antonio from Dawson ridgeline

Visibility had been severely restricted the day I got lost, as well the day I hiked out.  I was never clear where I was at any stage in this adventure.


A few years ago I hike the North Backbone trail.  This took me to the summit of Dawson but nothing looked familiar.  Not surprising as I probably didn't cross anywhere I went on my long ago birthday.


Back to the present:  The COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in a number of trail closures.  Since most of the areas I usually hike in are closed my hiking partner and I decided to go up Dawson from the North Fork of Lytle Creek.  We didn't take the same route I hiked out 17 years ago.  Instead we found a gully off the north slope with large patches on snow.  It's so much easier to ascend steep snow in crampons than to bushwhack up a slope.  Once we reached the upper ridge-line I continued to the summit.  It's an unusually beautiful area.  All the while I was thinking of the night I spent there and wondering what route I'd taken.


Some of my observations: The ridge I hiked down was much longer and more daunting than I recall.  The edge of that ridge is extremely dangerous with a crumbly cliff of dirt and rock that would result in a fatal fall.  I had hiked down that ridge without food or water, beginning in the very dim light of predawn.

On our way back out the 4x4 road from the North Fork it occurred to me that I feel like a cat.  More precisely, I feel like I burned through one of many lives that day and night 17 years ago.  If this were someone else's story.  And if they offered to take me on a trip to recreate the event, I'd scoff at them.  Looking over the terrain I'd call them out and refuse to believe the story.  So it goes.            

The summit of Dawson Peak

White Powder Sand and Pale Blue Waters

I've been in Zanzibar for 4 days now.  The first 2 nights were spent in Stone Town bumming around.  Stone Town in OK: Some cool shops, some good eats... the night market has great food.  Watching the local boys jump into the ocean form the quay wall was amusing.  But it is very built up, in poor condition overall and, a city.  It was not why I came to Zanzibar.  OK, let's be honest: I didn't really kow why I wanted to see Zanzibar.  It's been somewhere I decided long ago I should visit.  So I arrived with no real plans.  Well after 2 days in town I headed across to paje.  It's on the SE coast of the main island.  The beaches are made up of an incredibly fine white powder.  The tide moves in and out hundreds of yards in an hour.  The water is bathtub warm.  It is the typical tropical paradise I suppose, a wonderful place to just kick it.

I managed to get a bit sunburned today.  I wore sunscreen but was out longer than planned.  Wandering around at low tide.  The sand is teeming with critters.  Far off in the distance waves crash against the reef.  Closer to shore boats sit marooned, women collect seaweed from gardens, kid play.  And while there is at least foot of water the kite boarders struggle to learn their new hobby.  The combination of warm shallow waters and a fair wind make this quite the place to learn kite boarding.  I thought about giving it a whirl but decided that can come with my next trip. 

The sand here is different than anyplace I have been.  There are shells everywhere an occasionally coral mixed in.  So it may be generally soft but yu do need to use some caution, especially around the sea urchins.  I am used to seeing them on rocks but here they are randomly strewn across the sandy bottom.  The other curious hazard was the baby sea snake I saw... just a few feet from my ankles.  And twice as I wandered about something large squiggled under my foot and as I stepped away quickly vanished.  I've no idea what it was.  It did feel pretty funny though.               

Tomorrow afternoon I'll need to head back to Stone Town to catch y flight the following day.  I'll be coming back hee though.  I need to see the national forest, go skin diving and possibly learn to kite board.  Zanzibar is a pretty cool place.