I remember lying on the floor next to my two small sons while they played with toys and me feeling much too exhausted to even lift my arm sometimes to walk a little lego man. I’m sure every parent has experienced this same thing. Today is one of those days only the exhaustion comes from living with a 64-year-old many who has been playing for three weeks straight while I’ve been doing 90% of the work around the house. It seems that way, although I’m sure he has done much more than 10% so it’s really not fair for me to complain at all. He’s wonderful and does his own cooking and laundry. The exhaustion comes more from being completely isolated and never gathering with anyone to talk with other than having brunch with the kids on Sunday.

The isolation thing became very real when I moved to Dallas in 2019 for a job. I felt giddy with excitement finding an apartment for myself and setting everything up for success. I moved from a 1-bedroom to a beautiful 2-bedroom place early 2020 just when the pandemic hit. My oldest son flew into town to help me move along with a company that I hired to move the big stuff. All he had to do is basically be there for moral support. The moral support for the move turned into much, much more. As soon as all the stuff was in the new apartment, we learned more about the pandemic and decided to skedaddle back to Minnesota as quickly as possible. Actually, we didn’t know it was a pandemic. We really didn’t know what the heck was going on other than hearing news of many people dying in other countries.

We packed our bags, grabbed bottles of water, hand sanitizer and rubber gloves. The concept of wearing a mask hadn’t reached my mind yet. The first stop was at a printing plant where a project of mine was printing. And then we headed north. We had no idea what we would find other than feeling terrified of catching a deadly virus. I recall running into a service station to use the bathroom as quickly as possible, as if moving quickly would dodge the bug from getting me. One Taco Bell restaurant was closed down – large posters declaring the place closed until further notice due to the monster looming in the air. We listened to entertaining podcasts. I absolutely love traveling with my son. He is the best travel companion and is always the best conversationalist. He has always been that way.

At one point, my son turned to me and said, “This has always been a dream of mine to go on a long road trip like this with you. But not under these circumstances.” We made the most of it. Traveling along in a bright green Hyundai Kona, we eventually made it to St. Louis where we stopped for a late dinner at a Sonic. The car hop was a young, friendly guy who I tipped $20. He exclaimed gratitude unlike I’ve ever seen before. He was practically jumping up and down. I told him, “Thank you for doing what you do. I worked as a car hop for $2.10 per hour and got pennies for tips.” I would give $20 tips quite often throughout the pandemic.

The best part of the pandemic was how my two sons and husband would fly down to visit me in Dallas. We loved the adventure of walking the beautiful trails directly behind the apartment complex, sitting by the pool, trying different restaurants and spending time together. My oldest son said once, “I would like living here.” and my youngest said, “Can you do this again?” Meaning live in a nice apartment where he could stay and discover a new city. I had lots of energy for them when they would come to visit.

The second best part of the pandemic was working remotely because I absolutely hated going into the downtown Dallas office very day. My supervisor would leave her office door open and broadcast every conversation out to the entire floor. My cubicle was directly outside her office and I would often close her door.

Eventually the stress of the pandemic, the vaccines and living away from my family caused an inflammatory response in my body that caused my right leg to go completely numb. I had been feeling like I needed a massage to release some tension in my back so I scheduled a massage for one day after work. That night, after the massage, I woke up and could barely get myself to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. I brushed it off as something that would get better and did my best to take the dog for her morning walk and also do my work. At around noon on September 17, 2021, it became quite evident that something was seriously wrong. My leg was now completely numb and I would barely walk. I had no support system in Dallas. The people I worked with all lived miles away. I did not know my neighbors. I did know a few people at the dog park at the complex but didn’t have anyone’s phone number.

So, I drove myself to the nearest emergency room and sat there for hours while they nothing for me other than charge me a lot of money. They did a CT scan, checked my vitals and then the ER doctor said, “I am going to order an MRI for you but if I find something I’m going to have to admit you.” My intuition told me, “No way in hell am I going to be admitted.” I had my dog at home with nobody to care for her. So, even though I could barely walk and kept falling over, I drove myself back to my apartment and dragged myself up three flights of stairs several times a day to care for my dog and do other stuff.

There was no playing around, the leg thing was very serious to me. The numbness changed to extreme pain at night and I would scream for hours. During the day, I would work and nap as much as possible. My oldest son, who was not working, flew down to walk the dog a few days. I tried walking at the park with them and he said, “Mom, just pick your foot up and walk.” I told him that my body was not working that way.

I would take the dog for walks and often fall on my face. I would also take her to the small dog part at the complex where people asked what was going on with my leg. I did not know what was wrong other than I had a massage and ended up in the emergency room and now could not walk. Some offered to help with the dog. But I would always say I could manage on my own.

That’s the thing with me, I rarely accept help from other people unless I am paying them a lot of money. Either I have hired them for work or hired them as a healer of some sort or have paid them for a retreat experience. I’ve never had a friend since I was in high school. I got along ok with people at work and with clients enough to function. But even then, I’m sure many people just did not like me at all and thought I was a snob or something because I would always sabotage and not want anyone to get to know me on a deeper level.

I’m getting somewhere with this writing . . .

After high school I had no friends.

That’s because after high school I was in a horrific boating accident, my daughter died and then another daughter was taken from me by my mother. We temporarily moved from the small town where the accident happened and from the father of my first born dead daughter. I’m not sure what the reason was for my mother moving us away. It certainly did not help anyone at all. If anything, it hurt everyone. If we had stayed in the small town, the support system would have been there for my siblings. I would not have had a support system because all my friends were away at college.

My body remembers things and my mind adjusted to it. When something happens, pay the doctors but do not ask for help from friends. Where am I going with this post? And why did I title it, “Playing”? Oh, I know, I am having an issue with myself not ever playing or having fun. My husband plays all the time. He spends hours and hours with family and friends. He goes to coffee with friends several times a week. He went fishing with his siblings for a week. He went to his hometown to help his brother cook for a fundraiser during the town celebration. He plays all the time and he has wonderful relationships with so many people.

I cannot play because I don’t know how. It’s a lie, I know but right now it seems impossible. Whine, whine, whine.

I posted some advice for someone I know on social media yesterday. She gave birth to a stillborn son months ago and has been very open about her pain. I shared with her that I lost a child and how nobody wants to be in that club. I wish it never happened to her but to feel all her feelings. It sucks. Yes, I did meet her in person a few times so I know she really exists.

My body remembers what it’s like to have a child be alive inside my body and then to lose that child. Twice. One by stolen by death and another stolen by my own mother. I’m not the only one, I know that. I’m very aware of the perception other have of white women.