i have written previously about getting back into reading again. when covid quarantine went into effect, one of the things i stopped having the attention and appetite for was reading books. but since fall, i have been chipping away at a pile that had been waiting for me since 5 years ago, and i am intentionally trying to read at least 2 books a month. in january i read fuzz by mary roach, and natural causes by barbara ehrenreich. i'll write about fuzz and my thoughts about and journey in divesting from specieism another time. today i want to talk about natural causes and, especially, barbara ehrenreich's impact on my outlook on death, wellness, and how i have navigated those topics before and going into the trump administration.
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after the election loss last week, i've spent a lot of time on my screens watching people spiral, activate, argue, plan, fight, grieve, celebrate, move on…all the things. it’s very human yet overwhelming and i don’t want to contribute more to it, but idid need to get some of the thoughts swirling in my head down to make room for what’s next. i am going to tell a very personal story, but it dominates my mind whenever i feel the world is ending so the perspective may be helpful to those who feel alone in their grief right now.
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when i was little, my grandma and i used to take the car service to coney island to ride the carousel. i loved my time with my grandma so much that i kept to myself the constant anxiety in my tummy as we rode in a stranger's car, encountered sketchy men on the boardwalk, and rode the horses in a circle over and over again in the hot and sticky air. i never told her i was scared or that my tummy hurt, because i didn't want her to stop spending time with me. as far as i was concerned back then, my grandma was all that i had.
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