Paloma Cruz

stories from an ordinary life ...

A busy life

I have a busy life, do you? (palomacruz.com)

In the next month I have 7 health appointments. Yes, 7.

No, I’m not seriously ill. The truth is that only one of the appointments is mine. The other 6 are my mother’s. After years of resistance I finally convinced her to do all those exams and other things that she’s been putting off. There appointments include 4 doctors and 2 scheduled groups of exams.

I’m glad that she’s finally getting all of this done. It’s good news, really. Unless you’re her chauffeur. Because what this also means is that I have to take time away from my regular schedule (and I have a lot of meetings) to drive her there and wait with her and drive her back. And, of course, pick her up and drop her off.

I want her to be healthy. I just wish someone else could drive her.

Yes, I sound like a bad daughter … except I will take the time off to drive her. And I will make sure she follows up with the doctors. And I will make sure she takes her medication.

I don’t have children. But I do have an aging parent. I’m a caregiver, though not exactly a perfect one.

Aren’t you better yet?

Aren't you better yet? I'm feeling like I've been sick forever. (palomacruz.com)I got sick and I’m still sick. Why can’t they just make it go away?

Last Tuesday I woke up sick. There wasn’t any real indication that I should expect it. I went to sleep well and woke up hacking up a lung. It was seasonal allergies, I’m pretty sure. And I treated it with the regular over-the-counter medications. And I got worse.

Almost immediately I saw my energy level go down and my attention span disappear. My billable hours went down down down.

On Thursday I had to “go into work” to cover a client event. I was miserable all evening, but made it through the night. But I knew, halfway through the evening, that I was going to pay for working an event where I had to yell to be heard over the DJ and had to go out into the cool winter air.

On Friday I woke up with my throat feeling like I’d swallowed cut glass. It hurt to swallow and cough. It hurt when I tried to talk. And my voice was non-existent. It was time to see a doctor.

Armed with prescriptions and additional over-the-counter goodies, I prepared myself to feel better. When, exactly, is that supposed to happen?

Today is my ninth day ill and I’m still having trouble breathing, I’m dragging myself through the day and doing the bare minimum to keep my work up to date. Things are piling up. I’m making mistakes and oversights. I’m cranky and tired. All I want to do is take a nap.

My new out of office responder and voicemail message should read something like: “Thank you for your message. I’m too sick to deal with it. Send me the details of your problem and I’ll take care of it in the order in which I received it. And I’m too sick to care how this will affect you. I’m taking a nap.”

Wait … I know there’s a reason why I can’t use that message … but my brain’s too fuzzy to think clearly. It’ll come to me later.

Being pro-life and pro-refugee

Being pro-life and pro-refugee (palomacruz.com)

I came across this quote in an op-ed about reconciling pro-life beliefs with the reality of ongoing Christian values:

[snip]

“I can no longer persuade myself that the birth of the child is the end of my pro-life agenda. I must be “pro” everything needed for that child not just to be born, but to flourish.

This means that I need to be pro education and pro job growth, and pro many other things I never considered as connected to my pro-life convictions.”

[snip]

I’ve always wondered how some people can be fine with endorsing legislation that ensures that children live in poverty, go hungry, and have very little access to education or hope while at the same time saying that they’re pro-life. Does the care for that life end with the first breathe?

It’s an interesting read.

* * *

SOURCE: I’m Pro-Life, and Pro-Refugee

I deposited money into my savings account!

I deposit money into my savings account! (PalomaCruz.com)For the first time in nearly two years, I actually deposited money into my savings account!

Two years ago I unexpectedly quit my job. I did that without any real idea of what I would do next. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t think about the next step. I didn’t pause. I didn’t overthink it. I just quit.

It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve done something that impulsive. I used to do things like that all the time, but never on that scale. Little things, medium things, but not life altering things.

I quit my job and then it never quite sunk in. I never got that “oh my God, what did I do?” moment. I never had the moment of panic.

It helped that I had no debt and a healthy savings account.

One day I sat down and figure out how long I could go without making any money. Then I started to take freelancing work. And at first it seemed like no one wanted to hire me. And the money kept going out and no money was coming in. And I started to get worried … for a week or so. Then the work started to roll in.

Last year I had the great experience of having the first month where I didn’t have to take money out of my savings to pay my bills. And then a few months later I lost a contract and had to do it again for two months. And I worried again, for two months. And then the worked really rolled in.

And … drum roll … I put money in my savings account this month!

I know that to you this is a boring thing. But to me this is major. It’s a wonderful feeling. And I’m determined to celebrate my victories where I find them.

What great thing happened to you this week?

I still want to believe in the Dream

I still want to believe in the Dream (palomacruz.com)

Have you ever looked at a Magic Eye image? At first all you see is this colorful burst of random dots. But if you stare at it long enough, an image emerges …. hidden in plain sight. One moment it’s dots and the next moment this figure pops out, clear as day.

These days I feel like everyone else is seeing the dots while I see the image.
I can’t stop seeing the image.
And it fills me with dread.

I believe in the United States. And I say that to mean that I believe in the concept of this country, in the fundamentals of freedom and democracy on which it was created. (Yes, I know that it’s a republic … let’s not split hairs here.)

In this country, all men (and women) are created equal. At least that’s what we’re supposed to try to aspire to: a country where no one person is more valuable, more important than others based on gender, income, race, religion, sexual orientation, or anything else.

In this country, we’re not supposed to victimize anyone in the pursuit of the greater good. “Small price to pay” is not a sentence we’re supposed to be using when talking about traumatizing innocent bystanders.

In this country, we’re supposed to hold truth as sacrosanct and expect education to count for something. Truth should not be something that’s fluid and changes based on the person who’s telling it.

In this country, media are supposed to be unbiased and objective. We should be able to trust that what we’re being told is fact and not a carefully crafted piece of fiction. And we should be able to trust that the news isn’t being influenced by the beliefs and priorities of journalists, news directors or media owners.

In this country, we have freedom of speech. And that applies to the people who agree with you as well as those whose beliefs are in opposition to yours. It also applies to those whose beliefs are so fundamentally opposite to yours that … well, you get the idea. But it doesn’t mean that you are allowed to incite violence. It doesn’t mean that you get to use your influence and power to bully those in opposition to you. It doesn’t mean that you get to go in front of a large audience and imply that violence would be a good solution to whatever ails you today.

In this country people are innocent until proven guilty. The assumption of guilt isn’t enough. The assumption that someone will do something at some point isn’t supposed to mean that they get thrown in jail, out of the country … or otherwise removed. There’s supposed to be trials, with due process and laws that are followed, laws that apply to everyone.

I hate that I can’t use the words “Make America Great.” I hate that it’s become this code for racism, xenophobia, and extremism.

I hate that I’m having arguments with people I love. I hate that I can see so clearly why they’re wrong and understand that they don’t get why I can’t or won’t agree with them.

I hate that suddenly political and education decisions are based on religion.

I hate that fear is a constant, growing feeling that’s a daily presence in my life.

Because you’re still seeing the dots, saying “look, how pretty!” and I’m staring in horror at the image they hide.

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