Finally, after over a year of strict isolation, I got vaccinated and was ready to burst out of my bubble and embrace the world again. But, before I could bask in the joys of my newfound freedom I had responsibilities to attend to. First and foremost, a shit ton of doctors appointments I had put off far too long.  Of course, I  don’t really want to go to the dentist, GYN, eye doc, etc. These things are not fun, these things are uncomfortable and cause me fear that something sinister will be found. These aren’t the activities of freedom I had fantasized about every day for over a year.  But the whole pandemic, I worried about not going for my check-ups and now that I am suddenly ‘free’, I worry about going…it made me see I can’t really win. This is truly how life is, never really the blissful honeymoon we imagine. 

When I don’t have something I want it. When I have it, I worry about loosing it. Then, if I tire of it before it goes, I worry about the responsibility of getting rid of it. Or, if I still cling to it when I loose it I am devastated by the loss. Then I hustle to try to find it again. If I get something worse I am sad and keep striving. If I get something better then the cycle begins again. Where exactly is satisfaction? Where is my bliss?

I was thinking about this in the context of moving. When I moved to Houston, I was unhappy, I wanted something better. But after a time, it was mine and when Eric got a job at Google, I was devastated to leave the life I had established, claimed, imagined a future with. Once in SF, I craved a return to Houston, I was miserable. Until of course I ended up claiming SF. I left Houston behind. Now I barely think about Houston, it is so far from me and mine, just a place I don’t cling to or associate with at all.

When I moved to SF I hated it, but at some point, I claimed it as mine. I became an SFer and SF reflected me. But while there, I stressed constantly I would loose it for lack of money to live there or about its decline: Homelessness, crime, environmental destruction. Finally, I tired of it and went looking for something better, only moving to NY I got something I felt was worse and I pined for what I lost in SF. I tried so hard to find a way back to the fair city that was mine, that I had foolishly grown bored with and ‘tossed’ away. Until the fires began to get worse and the reality that a severe asthmatic was poorly suited to a life in fire country, helped me detach, let go of a dream that suddenly felt impossible. I still miss it. I now need to find a new home, something at least as good if not better.

This body I worry about constantly. I have it. I love it with all my heart. But what is the ratio of time I spend stressing over it versus enjoying it? Every single day I worry about it getting sick, old, sagging, dead. Care and feeding of it is a constant task. Exercise and diet to maintain it and prolong it. I live in fear of its loss. I live in embarrassment when I feel its look/shape/smell/sound don’t reflect me.  I cling so hard. The other day, I looked at a mole I worry may be changing. On the tail of the autoimmune stuff, the arm pain, the blue finger, I literally felt like I just can’t do it any more.  One more doctors visit to worry about, to  I ‘celebrate’ my freedom with…the concern is crushing me. But whose fault is that? Why don’t I lay down the burden of clinging to this body so tightly? Afterall, won’t it be like Houston in the end? Something I leave behind and eventually stop looking back at: Not me, or mine, just a place I lived once. But until I do, its worry. Stress. Dukkha. No bliss in sight, vaxxed or not.