Protests, Pandemic, and Anxiety

Since a white cop murdered a black man, George Floyd, in cold blood, there have been protests and what mainstream media calls rioting. Meanwhile, I haven’t done any fiction writing and have been obsessively reading and watching news. All this during a pandemic.

No matter how unproductive I’ve been lately, I need to meditate more, particularly metta (lovingkindness) meditation. I’ve mainly been using the Insight Timer app for guided anxiety meditations and only doing metta as I’m lying in bed to fall asleep.

Overheard Car Accident

Apparently with the pandemic there’s been an uptick in reckless driving (at least, according to people on Facebook).

Even on my residential street, at 2 am last night my skylight was open… and I heard a vehicle zooming along and then BAM! CRUNCH!

Probably a fender bender—I didn’t sneak downstairs to look. Soon I heard knocking on a door and people talking. After a while I saw flashing lights visible from my side window.

Gaslighting in Hindsight

Response to a Twitter post about giving an example of someone accusing you of something and they turned out to be wrong:

A frenemy for years kept insisting I’m bipolar and schizoid (I’m neither). She finally called me a sociopath during one of her tirades. She also claimed she has no personality disorders. Turns out she’s a narcissistic sociopath and I’m an empath.

Entertaining Cat

Thank you, Facebook, for reminding me that today is the anniversary of my dad’s funeral. I really needed to unexpectedly see those photos.

Well, at least Gabriel was entertaining today, never mind the bad memories, brooding, and fatigue.

Gabriel started to jump into my lap–but then he saw Virginia already there and stopped. He sat gazing up at me for several minutes. He was giving me his WTF face. I kept giving him slow blinks, but he wasn’t impressed.

Later, I entered the sewing room and noticed that the catnip I had found and set up on the floor … with the lid off… had tipped over and spilled.

Next thing I know, Gabriel is chirping and covered in catnip. He seemed much more chill now, if a bit… drunken in his movements while he rubbed against a basket next to the catnip.

Mummified Mouse

Now I know the source of that rotting corpse stench from months ago, when I kept moving the couch and not finding the corpse. It was inside one of those cat toys that have a spinning toy inside–and this one contained a toy mouse. Maybe the resemblance between toy mice and real mice is unfortunate when you have cats with great hunting skills.

Boundaries

I’ve been a reject and a misfit all my life and always will be, and I do have to accept that. However, I do NOT have to accept toxic people in my life. I do not have to accept them whether they’ve been in my life for a long time or come into my life in the future. They have NO right to be in my life. They have NO right to verbally abuse me. They have NO right to project their traits onto me. They have NO right to gaslight me. They have NO right to have any contact with me or to take up any of my time, attention, or energy.

Coronavirus Dream

I had a coronavirus dream set in Regency England.

A ball was taking place inside an enormous ballroom with an extremely high ceiling and white and gold paneling. Quite a number of people were there but had plenty of space—they were probably the first arrivals. At least 20 people. They wore elegant and very Regency (circa 1814) garb.

A zombie-like man entered the room and said he had coronavirus. Everyone yelled and screamed and ran away, going out of the ballroom.

Shove Off, Narcissist

Oh, look, my inbox contains an email from Mindfucking Psychopath, who still believes he’s entitled to have contact with me. Nope, still incorrect. I can see the beginning of the message in the subject line, and it looks like a pseudo-apology at best.

Actually, despite the above sardonic tone, my reaction to merely seeing that in my inbox put me in a murderous rage. No, I am not ready to read a message from that narcissist who used some of the same manipulation techniques as the narcissistic sociopath who gaslighted me for six years.

No, Fuckface is NOT entitled to project his majesty’s traits onto me. He is NOT entitled to gaslight me. His belief that those closest to him have to walk on eggshells or let him lash out at them–or walk around on eggshells AND let him shower them with verbal abuse anyway–is bogus and always has been bogus.

No, he has NO right to have ANY contact with me. His delusions of entitlement are bogus, always have been, and always will be.

While I do regret texting with that narcissist and thereby getting into a fight with the parasite, I do NOT regret blocking his majesty’s phone number and social media accounts. I do not regret going No Contact, as I did with other toxic relatives years ago.

I DO regret that it took me this long to finally stop having blind and stupid loyalty to that narcissist. It seems ridiculous that it lasted as long as it did.

Since a narcissistic sociopath gaslighted me for six years and I broke up with her in 2016 and have learned a great deal from that experience, it was inevitable that I would FINALLY stop having that blind and stupid loyalty to that self-entitled parasite. His delusions of entitlement are as bogus as those of the narcissistic sociopath.

He should be grateful that my blind and stupid loyalty lasted so long—but instead he’s outraged that it’s finally gone. He didn’t deserve that loyalty, had no gratitude for it, took it for granted, and destroyed it. It’s never returning. Good riddance.

So yeah, while I’ve certainly gone through afflictive emotions and have been depressed since he lashed out at me via texting, days before social distancing became official here…. I certainly learned from this experience. My days of letting him lure me back into a false sense of security–my days of assuming he has a right to be in my life–are permanently over.

I’m sure I’ll read and respond to Mindfucker’s email at some point, but not today. Not while I’m in a rage. I intend to meditate a lot this month and read at least one self-help book and hopefully get back to reading a Buddhist book by Sharon Salzberg. After all of the above, then I should… probably… maybe… be up to reading Mindfucker’s email. That could be a month of meditating and reading. At least.

And I need to actually do this meditating–formal sitting meditation, not just tell myself to do it. That’s not only my usual informal meditating first thing in the morning and last thing when I turn out the light at night. I used to be seriously into meditation the first few years that I got into Buddhism; it was normal for me to meditate at least an hour a day, occasionally as many as three hours. I got out of the habit when I moved many states away.

I’m creative and suck at time management, so it’s easy to procrastinate and prioritize writing and sewing over meditating. But if I’m going to read that email without going into a rage and without writing an enraged reply, I need to get back into intensive daily meditation.

This pandemic would have been stressful enough without verbal and psychological abuse. The fact that Fuckface pulled that shit right before I began social distancing means that this social distancing has not been easy for me–it has involved a great deal of rage and brooding in addition to emotional sponge general pandemic anxiety. That’s another thing he isn’t entitled to: creating so much trauma.

He has no right to have any contact with me. In fact, his majesty isn’t entitled to a reply email. I don’t owe him anything, especially not even more of my time, energy, and emotional labor.

Pandemic Shopping

For the first time, I left my hermitage for social distancing grocery & cat food shopping, and it was a tense atmosphere. It felt dystopian and weird, most people wearing gloves and/or masks and whatnot. I wore gloves, too.

I hadn’t been around people for about two weeks—that entire time, I hadn’t had close enough proximity to people to be aware of their energy or moods. As an empath, I’m an emotional sponge.

I got as far as the produce department before tears started to well up. I clasped the black tourmaline pendant and focused on refraining from crying… because I don’t want anyone to see me cry. Embarrassing.

But that wasn’t only my emotions—it was the distress and anxiety of the masked and gloved people around me, customers and staff, in the large supermarket.

I resolved to focus on groceries and remember what I came for. That worked. I acted stand-offish, didn’t smile, didn’t make eye contact. Nobody else was what I’d call friendly, except for two people chatting in an aisle.

The buffet tables were empty, as were glass-doored shelving units that customarily contain self-serve items such as individual pastries.

The coffee bar (Market of Choice) is still open, so I ordered a smoothie. The fireplace was turned on (gas or electric), but the seating is all gone. I saw notices forbidding anyone from eating or drinking inside.

If you bring your own shopping bags, you must fill them yourself. When a cashier told me this behind a tall sheet of plexiglass, I said, “That’s fine. It’s my first time our of my hermitage.”

The bagger—who wore a riot-gear helmet, or whatever you call a helmet that has a clear plastic face shield–went to a different cash register, while I packed my reusable bags.

After putting my groceries in the car, I went to the pet store a couple doors down. It was open, to my relief, and not only for phone orders. I entered and walked straight to where they keep the wet food my cats like, and I took an armload to the front counter. The shop owner wore a mask and after greeting me said, “I’m smiling. You just can’t see it.” I chuckled ruefully.

It was a relief to get in the car and sit exhaling and drinking smoothie. Even a greater relief was getting home.

The first thing I’d put in my cart was a rainbow unicorn succulent. I have a rainbow unicorn succulent, kale, and burritos and am back home—much better.

I also have wine and CBD chocolate. I figure that if I alternate eating and fasting, I could go for maybe four months without grocery shopping. For now, I have a bunch of fresh produce, so the fasting can wait.

I’m in no hurry to venture out again.