Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Imagination is a good servant, and a bad master. The simplest explanation is always the most likely. [Agatha Christie]

As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube. 

Once in a while, you read a piece that sticks with you for a long time. When that happens, I’m lucky enough to be able to share it with you here and then, if you want more information, link to it.

These days we are inundated with conspiracy theories. Some of them are just plain wacko and lately, most of it is of a medical, shall we say, “bent.”

I’ve been ignoring the anti-vaxx, anti-mask stuff spread far and wide, most often by suspicious sources that I personally happen to think come from Russia in its interests to divide and conquer.

See, that’s my conspiracy theory: that Russia DID tamper with the 2016 US election, owned the “useful idiot” (a Russian term, not mine) they put in office and have continued to try to upset the world order to get to where we are today. “To insanity…and beyond,” with apologies to Buzz Lightyear.

Now, where was I?

See, I know how delusional that all sounds, even if I do believe it in my soul and it was backed up by Trump asking Putin for help in a TV interview Tuesday, and further backed up by a Newsweek story about a Russian TV host who suggested Russian citizens “call on the people of the United States to change the regime in the U.S. early, and to again help our partner, Trump, to become president.”

In my mind, the key word in that sentence is “again.” But I don’t stand up and scream my theory because I don’t want people sending me foil for a new Easter bonnet. But let’s talk about conspiracy theories.

David Hundsness holds a BA in Psychology from University of California and he’s posted some thoughts and video on why people get sucked into conspiracy theories – particularly about elections, Covid, the vaccine and so on.

Hundsness boils it down to 4 things that make believers of inane stories: lack of information, anxiety, following an in-group, and ego.

First, lack of information which to me can be explained in two parts: the first of which means to me lower levels of education, which not only informs us of facts (history, science and so forth) but which can also contribute to critical thinking skills. Asking good questions, listening to the answers from people who actually know them and being able to tell the difference between fact and opinion.

Next, anxiety is something we’ve all felt in the past two years and so we seek answers and darn it, Siri/ Google, we want them now! Again, you have people who are more than happy to fill that blank space, thus offering a sense of direction, even it’s to Conspiracy Town. But when those opinions are accepted by some as fact, we see where that gets us. Arguing with your uncle who just knows better. Just asking questions is all….

Three, wanting to follow your in-group, which may explain haters spreading the word on social media that our PM’s dad is actually Fidel Castro, Michelle Obama is a man, Hillary Clinton ran a child trafficking ring out of a pizza place and other such utter trash. There’s the in-group of breeding too, I’ll add: people born into a place, a family or a religion where one political party was always the one that got their votes, no matter what the other, sometimes better, options were. I was born into one of those families. Maybe you were, too.

Finally, fourth – and David Hundsness emphasizes this as the biggest reason for believing conspiracy theories – ego. When people finally begin to realize that the cause they dedicated time (or worse, money) to, which brought irrevocable harm to them and their loved ones; when it all becomes clear that their beliefs were wrong, how much courage does it take to walk back those beliefs? I mean, we’ve heard stories of dying patients still saying Covid is a hoax. Man, that is one strong ego. But I can’t be wrong! My friends on Fox said so!

Ego also steps in when people who feel inferior about their education think they know something the rest of us don’t, then they are actually smarter, right? The fringe doctors who want to make a name for themselves defend crackpot theories. And most often it takes literally 30 seconds to research that the doctor isn’t quite who he or she is touted to be.

So when people finally do see the light, provided it’s not walking towards the white one, how are we to help them? Patience. Gentle repetition. And never an “I told you so.”

As the sixth wave of the Covid variant we’ve been watching in Europe makes itself felt now in Canada, I’m quite comfortable trusting people who have earned it, not with votes or telling us what we want to hear, but with experience. With science. With caution and – most importantly of all – with facts.

Have a good first weekend of April – Rob and I are going away for a few days, but if weather and internet allow, I’ll shoot one outside near the ocean and see you here on Monday!

Just a thought… There’s a lot of things we all wish we could have done differently. But if you spend too much time of your life trying to change the past, your biggest regret will be that you spent your life wishing to change a ‘done’ past when you could have been changing an unwritten present and future. [baggagereclaim.com]

As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Thank you for coming in and we’ll start with a wish for peace for Ukraine. For strength, for triumph and for healing. For Canada and the US and the rest of the world to come together within their own borders and support Zelenskyy and his courageous forces, and beat back the murderous thug Putin. May the bright joy of sunflowers power your day and your week.

Mine is fueled by a sense of well-being in our own embarrassingly abundant and joyful lives: baking three days in a row, twice with our grandson, who scooped out the cookie dough and helped with a cake mix. An angel food cake with money tucked into waxed paper packets inside for Lauren’s birthday; I don’t know why I didn’t think of “angel food” before. But now, every time we serve a cake for dessert, little Jane insists on candles and blowing them out after singing Happy Birthday…to her. Jane, we’re gonna need more candles.

Our hearts were also boosted by a small gathering of six friends yesterday to catch up and share some laughter. My glass was filled with alcohol-free wine, as it has been now in some form or another (actually more often than not now tonic water) for 1002 days. Saturday marked 1000 days since I finished that last half-bottle of wine I had carefully meted out as I chose to quit, just a few weeks before entering seven weeks in rehab.

I haven’t told you much about those weeks and I’m sure there are some people with questions. I’m not exactly sure why I went, except that I needed help, not with the drinking, but the whys of it. In the two, almost three years that have passed since coming out in the month of August, I have turned my attention to the spiritual side of my life: the life that we chose, the ones that await, and stuff I alluded to in Thursday’s journal.

Don’t worry – I’m not going to go into that every time or even any time at all in the future. But it’s just how I’ve shifted my focus. Sobriety has allowed that.

Sobriety has let me read and read and read at night. I’ve got no fewer than three books on the go right now, two about spirituality and a third a murder mystery. I set out on Facebook last week to collect people’s recommendations and there are a whole lot of great ones just waiting to be downloaded onto my Kindle.

Sobriety has let me write more – and a new story: The Big Bad Wolf visits Piggies’ Cove – drops tomorrow on Drift – for free. We’re almost at our month’s end of all listens contributing to redcross.ca through our sponsor enVy pillow, by the way. So give it a listen. Do good while enjoying great sleep stories, won’t you?

Sobriety has let me wake up without the remorse and terror of what I might have said, done or put on social media when my filters were soggy and my basket all out of damns to give.

But best of all, it’s put me even more in a place of service where when people write and say they think they might have a problem and want to stop, ask what I did. Ask how they can do it. They want what I have and that’s the best side effect – the best hangover, if you will – of sobriety there is.

And I will always tell them that they will never ever find a safer and more welcoming place than an online or in-person AA meeting. Ever.

And so on we go…cautiously and masked. Protecting not just ourselves, but those who have compromised immune systems or need our protection. It’s such a small thing to do, and as some people saw in the weather this weekend, and the rest of us witness the increasing cases of the BA.2 virus, the winter of Covid is not over because we will it so or because those in power want it to be over.

If we could simply wish things away, the fields in Ukraine would be dotted with germinating sunflowers instead of tanks and shells. If we could wish things away, Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl and the family of his friend and drummer Taylor Hawkins would not be in such pain today at the death of Hawkins at just 50. If we could wish things away, seeing our flag would bring pride and not anger at those abusing it for their own causes. If we could wish things away, our country would come together stronger than before in appreciation of the freedoms most of the world would and have killed for.

Once again, Jane, we’re going to need more candles.

I’ll be back with you here on Thursday.

Just a thought…

As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Welcome in to a special day in our lives: the day 31 years ago that Rob and I became parents to a wonderful little girl. 6 lbs 12 oz and three weeks early, we named her Lauren Dawn – the Dawn after my middle name and my dad’s first name (with a spelling variation), the Lauren because we had recently met a hauntingly sad little girl by that name. I thought it stood for strength and beauty, as in Lauren Bacall. Otherwise, she might have been a Carly, a Jessie or a Maddy.

Today we’ll go about our usual Thursday food deliveries, spend some time with our dear Mira and then come back and have birthday cake, as per Colin’s request. He’s asked for balloons, too, but we’ll see about that.

I’m talking about our girl today because I don’t mention her on the day she left us anymore; I’m not the only bereaved mom in the world and I don’t feel we deserve any more attention than anyone else. How my heart is heavy for the mothers and fathers who are losing their children every day – especially in the uselessness of war. So much waste, so much loss, so much sorrow.

But on this day, we are meant to celebrate. When everyone’s lives are filled with worry and sadness, illness and angst, isn’t it a choice to share a cake and light a candle for someone who brought us so much joy?

I could share pictures with you for hours, but none of them can even begin to tell you of the life in this girl. The “pure joy” that she expressed, literally, about becoming a mom, before what we believe to be the use of the drug Domperidone stopped that heart the night after her first mother’s day. She was taking it to breast feed and I will urge you to ask anyone in your life to get their heart tested before they take it. And yes, it’s still banned in the US. Here’s a link if you’d like to know more. 

Let me share a picture you probably have not seen before.

I was looking through travel pictures the other day for my St. Patrick’s Day blog and didn’t find one to use, but came across this one taken on the same trip of our Loo on a lake in Scotland. I hadn’t seen it since it was taken 18 years ago; she was 13 here.

We travelled a lot and take heart knowing we did all we could for our child to have a good life, just as any parent would. We gave her a good upbringing and, despite my faults, she ended up being level-headed, bright and, best of all, kind and empathetic. She was wise beyond her years, everyone who worked with her said, and I couldn’t agree more.

So here we are, another birthday without Lauren, and we are living the “at leasts” that we caution people not to use when talking to the bereaved. As I say in Mourning Has Broken, we are allowed to use those two potent words: at least we have our grandson. Lauren left us a beautiful baby boy who has grown into a strapping, handsome, smart and kind seven-year-old, thanks to his loving Dad and Brooke, the woman who took on the role of Mom so early in his life. We have a beautiful granddaughter that came to us by opening our hearts to that new family addition. And, miraculously, we have them living close to us. At least, at least, at least.

I rarely cry; if I do, it’s a few quiet tears when my mind takes a rest and my heart takes over. But I don’t mourn. We have wishes and regrets, but none of them about how she lived her life, or how we lived as a family. We are grateful forever and know that this is an agreement our souls made before she came. You may not believe in that, but everyone believes something different, don’t they? In my heart, I know it to be true and that our souls will dance again one day. And then we’ll travel together on to the next life, hopefully wiser for whatever it is we were to learn this go-round.

For Rob and for me, it’s all about being grateful and open to change and opportunity and ideas that maybe aren’t in the mainstream; being compassionate and holding on to the memories that warm our hearts instead of breaking them.

Like the day she arrived at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto, today, 31 years ago. And even today, Life is Good because we chose to make it so, just as she would want it.

Just a thought… For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don’t believe, no proof is possible. [Stuart Chase]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Hey – Happy First Full Day of Spring: a time of hope, of reawakening and of coming out of hibernation. Well, that’s where the “hope” part comes in, isn’t it?

Full disclosure: I’ve been feeling under the weather for the past week as my body adjusts to my surgery on the 10^th. Luckily, I booked last week off from any work and was able to just chill. This week ramps up a bit. I’m okay, of course; I keep my problems in perspective, given what’s happening to our sisters and brothers in (and who’ve fled) Ukraine. I may have fewer filters today is all.

Last Friday, Rob, our daughter-in-law Brooke and I went to a big grocery store, and noticed about half (or more) did not choose to wear their masks. Now, this store was in a densely populated city near Victoria called Langford, and it’s a far cry from the small spot we live near and shop at called Sidney. There, a large portion of the residents are seniors. And in the grocery stores a few days before our big city outing, Rob saw easily three-quarters of people choosing to wear their masks.

Moving from the oldest to our youngest citizens, March Break has just begun here. In Ontario, school is back today and the “to mask or not to mask” debate is a fiery one. I’m not going to get into it here; you know where you stand and nothing I or anyone else can say is going to change any minds at this point.

The other day I got an impassioned email from a woman who used to listen to me on the radio for years and had just found me again, imploring me to help her explain to her family why she’s right in believing in her “natural immunity.” She lamented that she’s lost friends and family connections.

I gave it a lot of thought, read it a few times over and then had nothing to say to her in response. No words. (And you know me – that’s unusual.) She’s seen the stakes and is still trying to rally people – even a virtual stranger like me – to her side. And honestly, why would I waste my time trying to change even one mind anymore? It’s not possible. I’m not an infectious disease expert; I haven’t spent my life studying viruses or the treatment of them. People believe what they want to believe, and it’s not worth getting that inevitable “I’m disappointed in you” (or worse) in response. So – and this is rare for me – I just hit delete.

I learned my lesson after a woman wrote to me two weeks ago to say she didn’t want anything in my journals that wasn’t positive and that I was surely losing readers. I went to respond to her with actual numbers, and – surprise, surprise – it came back “undeliverable.” The person who wrote it had given me a fake email address. So again, not worth my time.

We are all going through a LOT. Every single one of us. It’s up to us how we’re going to protect ourselves and that goes beyond the masking and other decisions that it seems have been passed across the table and into our laps.

The first thing to do is to give up being a keyboard warrior: stop trying to change minds that have been filled with “facts” that originated from unknown IP addresses and then spread like wildfire…or a virus. Covid isn’t done with us, no matter how much we want it to be. Being on guard is exhausting when every fibre of your being wants so much for it to be over and to throw off the masks like the overcoats and salty boots of winter. But just because the calendar says it’s spring, do we do that? No. Because we know better and we have learned from past experience.

My friend, take care of yourself. Just be careful. And don’t bother engaging. ‘Cause deleting can be good for your health, too. Stay safe, stay sane and I’ll be back with you here on Thursday.

Just a thought… I thought, instead of a quote, in honour of St. Patrick’s Day, I’d give you a little humour today – something that would have made my Irish-Canadian Grandad laugh. Two Irishmen are having a chat in the streets of Dublin, and one asks the other the quickest way to get to Cork. The other guy asks, “Well, are you driving or walking?” and the first guy says, “Driving.” And the second answers, “Well, that’s the quickest way.”

As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Welcome in and a very Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you. Of course, with a name like Erin, you’d think I’d be celebrating a bit, but naw…just a quiet Thursday in our lives. And I’m okay with that. Quiet is good.

Last Friday when I had that dental surgery, it was recommended I keep talking to a minimum for three days. (I think it was probably one to begin with, but Rob tipped the receptionist.)

I don’t have any pictures of chipmunk cheeks or anything; no bruising or swelling. It’ll be another few months of missing molars and then I’ll get some implants. No, not the fun kind, just the teeth. And that’s about all you need to hear about that.

I will tell you about a few dollars I could have – should have – spent that could be saving me the cost of a basic subcompact car. And that’s this.

It’s just a piece of maleable plastic and you drop it in hot water, shape it to fit your upper teeth and then put it in at night. Here’s some added fun: finding it in the morning. Seems I like to take mine out while I’m sleeping, a practice that has occasionally, shall we say, come back to bite me in the butt.

Yes, there are real night guards and I have had a few of those (one which became a very expensive chew toy for one of our dogs, unfortunately) but with different work being done over the years, keeping up with the changes would have meant one new one after another.

I just wish I’d kept something in there. You may not think you grind or clench your teeth, and perhaps you don’t, but with the stress of the past few years, not just in our lives but in everyone’s, there’s a lot going on in our heads and our mouths that we can’t control.

I grit. I grind. I gnash. And that’s why my teeth paid the price. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept so much inside all those years, but you know how it is: be nice, don’t have an opinion and, whatever you do, don’t upset the apple cart. If you’re nodding right now, you get it; almost every woman our age has been there, done that, and in my case, got the receipts from rehab, shrinks and the LCBO.

Like I say, I wish I’d just kept up with the night time protection (and I know there’s a punchline in there, but I’m going to keep going). My 88-year-old dad credits his drug store mouth guard with keeping his natural chompers in great shape.

If we’re lucky, we don’t even think about our teeth. But when they give us trouble, just one angry tooth can demoralize you until you demolarize, if you get what I mean.

I hope that you have a gentle weekend and that if you are feeling stress, I’ve given you something to chew on, if you will.

Stay safe, stay sane and don’t forget we welcome spring on Sunday morning at 11:33 Eastern Daylight Time. And we don’t even have to touch our clocks to do it.