Sep 2 2020 Meanwhile, part 2

What a whirlwind couple of weeks. I’m left grateful, and exhausted. A quick run down. 

A group of wonderful volunteers organized and pulled off a remote election, with 324 voting participants, spread throughout Western Oregon. We successfully elected the next Bishop of Oregon, a woman I’m very excited to have come lead our office and Diocese. 

It was an exhausting time before, both because of the stress of the nation’s first ever remote election, and because my loved one was increasingly symptomatic. So much so, that I elected to leave home for the week before, and stay with friends so I could actually sleep overnight, rather than being awoken by the slamming doors, maniacal laughing or angry rants. 

The lead up to the election required a lot of coordination between the policy setting volunteers, and the staff (me and my colleagues) who retained much of the logistical duties. With anxiety high, tensions flared, and feelings were hurt. Nothing that can’t be repaired, but work needs to happen to fix breaches. 

I desperately wanted to get out of town for a few days, so my husband and I arranged to stay at friends’ place on the Oregon Coast for 3 days. We had planned to leave our loved one home alone, figuring they mostly spent time in their room and were self-sufficient when we were here. Alas, they were not well enough for that to actually happen. We did get 2 days away, but we mourned the truncation of yet another vacation.  

Upon our return, it was clear our loved needed help; we were greeted with a hand written note, explaining they were going to castrate my husband and murder us in our sleep. To be clear, violence has never been a problem, and I’m not sure it would have been now. 

In their frustration and anger at our return, our loved one also posted our phone numbers and address, asking people to contact us because she was being abused. Our phones were flooded with calls and texts, including plenty of folks who said we shouldn’t let them post that information. While we agree, it’s impossible to prevent. Their behavior shouldn’t have been dismissed, and we believe it was an escalating cry for help. 

At dinner time, we called the crisis mental health folks, and by 9:00, there were 2 social workers, 2 police officers, 2 paramedics and an ambulance. Our loved one was transported to the hospital to be evaluated and held for 3 days, possibly more. 

Today, I get my final day of my 3 day vacation, and I really need it. 

More than one day off, I need a break. One of the things I appreciate about vacation time, even two days away, is the sense that I’m disconnected from the things in life that fill my hours. Phones, social media, computers, jobs. I’m able to start with a seemingly clean slate of 24 hours and fill it as I want, not as I should, or not as I habitually have. When I’m on vacation, I sit more. I think more. I do more exercise. I walk more. I read more. I scroll less. I write for public consumption less. I dream more. 

I need a break from drama, from social media, from a life enmeshed in the things that have filled up my days. I cannot take a break from my paying job, or my home drama. But I can try to actively guard the remaining hours, and treat them more like vacation hours. Starting today I will. 

This morning, I’m thinking about bringing my vacation state of mind and my vacation calendaring priorities into my real-life days. I am taking an indeterminate break from all social media, including checking in on my loved one’s online presence. To be clear, I enjoy Facebook and the like, but it’s not how I want to spend my precious spare time. Tonight, I’m shutting things down, at least for now. 

In my online absence, I’d ask your prayers for my loved one, if you’re the praying type. I’d encourage you to write your own musings. I’m always surprised by what comes out, after 25 minutes of writing; it’s mostly unexpected.  

For now, I’m signing off. 

Blessings, 

Carter