A Woman in the Woods Podcast Tracy J Thomas

Hello again. These past two weeks I found it impossible to function normally beyond taking care of myself. As the number of cases and deaths from the virus continued to increase exponentially around the globe, I found myself sucked into my internal world, and unmotivated to dig up my creative energies. I was doing everything I could to simply survive both physically and mentally. Lots of long walks, sitting in my swinging chair, reading books, doing puzzles, and staring out the window.I felt partially paralyzed by the individuals in our country who feel the need to sacrifice people for the sake of saving the economy. The virus is still here. It has not gone anywhere. It will continue to be here until the day a vaccination is available. This is not the time to open the floodgates without a solid plan in place that continues to keep people safe. I am hearing arguments, especially from the small group of extremists here in our state, that the stay-at-home orders are unconstitutional and impeding our rights as citizens to do what we want. That argument is a self-focused, piece of horse shit. These same people are arguing they have the right to hold church services and are actually going against the orders and doing so, while most likely exposing themselves and everyone else they come into contact with at the grocery store, etc. to the virus. How in the Hell is that a Christian thing to do? The last time I read the Bible, there was a whole lot of talk in there about putting others first before ourselves.As I record this, there are 2,451,879 cases of Covid-19 in the world and 168,371 deaths. In the U.S. alone there are 771,197 cases and 41,356 deaths and rising as of this moment in time. A few states have begun to flatten the curve, but, there are many other states in the nation who have not yet come close to the plateau, their cases and deaths are still rising. There is no magic light switch that we can turn off that will make it okay for all the businesses in our country to open back up, and for things to go back to normal. Our way of being has changed, and will continue to be radically different after this virus finally subsides.The best we can do for everyone on this planet is to stay home, stay safe, and listen to what the medical experts tell us. That is how we will save lives.For this episode, I decided to share one of my essays from my upcoming book “Walking on the Edge of Crazy”. This essay is titled “Life is a Laundromat”.Life is a Laundromat, filled with the slightly soiled, the filthy and the clean.  Somewhere between the empty boxes of Tide, the agitation, spin cycle, and the cold rinse sit the meaningful revelations of life. Some of my deepest visions of clarity have arrived while sitting on the edge of a deluxe Speed Queen three cycle washer as I wait for the grime from my life to come clean.  As the washer slops its load below me I harbor thoughts of self-proclaimed brilliance while lost somewhere in the depths of my mind.  I solve the issues of my own existence when I fold a few pairs of bleached white socks and place them back inside the laundry basket.I have sordid memories of Laundromats past. As a child I was convinced the Great Oz himself sat crouched behind the door of the utility closet as I dangled my skinny legs off the edge of a washing machine. Each Sunday I popped open a twenty-five cent can of vending machine soda, the bright orange kind that stained the teeth and tongue with its toxic dyes. I watched black and white movies on the television set that hung from the ceiling as my mother did her best to wash the soil from our lives.Inevitably the man I called Oz would appear. He had a jangle of keys that hung from a long chain clipped to his belt loop as he refilled the soda and detergent dispensaries. I would peer at him from around the edge of a row of the churning white machines with the hope he would drop a quarter or two as he collected the change. We never had much money so finding a lo

I hope you all had a good week, considering the circumstances. A week where you were able to take good care of yourselves and found a way to alleviate some of the stress that you are most likely under right now.

I had a week that felt like a roller coaster. Some days I felt strong and determined to tackle my list of things that I needed to accomplish, such as searching for new health insurance, filing for unemployment, and changing my direct deposit information for the IRS. It seemed that those little things took so much brain power to accomplish, where in normal days, I would have ticked them off my list in minutes. Those productive spurts came few and far between, but I managed to get at least one task accomplished each day.

Other self-care days were filled with rest, art projects, long walks on the property, and jigsaw puzzles. It was a combination of losing myself in art, physical activity, allowing my stressed out body to rest, and mindless things to steer my brain away from reality for a bit.

One of the best things that happened last week was a Zoom get together with seven girlfriends that I have known for 42 years now. It was so good to sit and chat with them about the current state of the world, our families, and just to have a good laugh for a bit. I felt the weight on my shoulders begin to lift and kept a smile on my face for much longer that day.

This virus has forced most of us to consider life and death in ways we don’t normally focus on it. As we grow older, and our parents begin to age, we do think about it more than we did in our younger years, but right now the topic has slammed its way into our daily lives and it has become a consideration that is difficult to ignore.

Some of us have had experiences in this life already, that have brought us face-to-face with death and our own mortality. I have had several of those experiences, like the one I spoke of in episode 9, “Staring Down the Barrel”. I experienced another one of those moments back in the 70’s.

It was the summer following my sophomore year of college, and I decided to apply for a seasonal firefighting position with the California Department of Forestry, which is now referred to as Cal Fire. This was way back in 1978 and I became one of just 26 women in the entire state of California to be hired to fight fires that summer.

When on-duty, I lived in a fire station with an all-male crew and even bunked right there in the same sleeping quarters along with my fellow firefighters. I learned very quickly how to earn their trust by proving to them that I could pull my weight with the workload that was required. They became like brothers to me and were very protective when we were out on the fire line, especially if the convict line crews were working close by.

We were a multi-engine hose crew so we responded to all types of emergencies including auto accidents, structure fires, grass, and wildland fires. When out on wildland fires, we were often in steep terrain and had to carry 90-pound hose packs up hills through dense brush in order to extend the hose line towards the fire from the engines or water tankers. It was physically taxing, stressful work, but the satisfaction we felt after knocking down a fire was immensely rewarding.

Our lives were endangered every single time we went out on a call. There was always an underlying level of stress even when we were working around the station between calls. It was like waiting for the next shoe to drop. The radios would echo through the station, the alarm would sound, we would dash for our Nomex clothing, run to the engines and head off with lights and sirens blaring. There was a level of excitement to this type of work, but when we were in midst of some of the more harrowing situations, the excitement dissipated, and we survived entirely on adrenaline to take us through the challenges.

This past week I have found it very difficult to function, as I am sure most of you who are listening to this podcast have found as well. So, I took some time off in order to focus a bit on some self care.

The entire world has been upended by a dark and invisible force. The great equalizer. A virus that is out of control and does not discriminate based on age, sexual identity, social status, political party, cultural background, educational level, race, or religious beliefs. It is replicating exponentially at an increasing pace, and there is currently no end in site.

It has pounded the stock market, decimated our livelihood, disrupted our lifestyles, separated friends and families, pushed us into survival mode unlike any other time in recent history, and has placed an enormous amount of stress on our hospitals and medical staff to the point they will now be forced to make life and death decisions as if they were on the front lines of a War. That means some people who die, will die due to lack of equipment, resources, and staff.

Those of us who have heeded the call to distance ourselves socially, shake our heads in disbelief when we watch those who just don’t seem to get it, continue to party en masse on beaches or go about business as usual, as if nothing is amiss. Numbers don’t lie and this virus is growing exponentially and will not stop growing until humans stop spreading it or there is a vaccine to treat it. That vaccine is a long way off. Denying the truth does not change the facts. And the facts of this particular virus means denial will kill people who could have been saved if the truth was just accepted as truth. There is an increasing probability that each one of us will know someone who is affected by this virus. Many of us will lose loved ones because of it. And there is currently only one way to get control of it, and that is by social distancing.

Yes, it is an inconvenience. Yes, it is a life disrupter. Yes, a lot of us may lose our livelihood because of it. But, if we don’t do it, we will continue to spread this virus and a lot of people will die because of that decision. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want that on my conscience. We all need to play our part here for the good of everyone. If we don’t it will only get worse.

I have been tracking the number of cases and deaths through the CDC, Johns Hopkins, and the nCov2019 dashboard since the day the numbers began to post.  Not because I have some morbid desire to focus on doom and gloom in the world, but because I have always excelled at statistics and have an interest in exponential math. As the days progressed and the patterns of spread began to emerge and accelerate, I became increasingly alarmed. Granted, my added hyper-vigilance due to my PTSD tends to trigger those alarm bells much sooner than most, but these alarm bells were blaring and began to send my anxiety levels through the roof. The future looked bleak as the trajectory of infections continued to surge upward in the U.S. and most other countries outside of China.

When you look at those numbers with an exponential math mindset, the numbers become horrifying. The U.S. is currently on a trajectory that will move us past China’s numbers today or tomorrow, and we will be the country with the most infected individuals in the entire world. Our hospitals are already becoming stressed, and as the number of cases rise, the number of deaths will also begin to rise exponentially because we are overwhelmed. Yes, it’s bleak. Yes, it’s real. And no, it is not some hyped up fantasy of one political party to bring down another. Please people, stop throwing around conspiracy theories. This is a global emergency, not some spitting competition between those with sociopathic egos.

Last Monday, after the stock market took a huge hit, the number of U.S. cases began to surge, and the first mentions of social distancing began...

Nature was my safe space when I was a child. Whether I was sitting on the top of a mountain, hanging out by the side of a glacial lake, or lying on my back in a meadow looking up at the clouds, it made me feel as though everything in my life would someday be okay, despite the ugly circumstances of my daily reality. If I could find this much beauty in the small spaces of my immediate environment, then there must be a whole lot more beauty for me to discover somewhere out there in the big world.

Moving to the cabin at this juncture in my life was one of the best decisions I have made. The beauty of nature has allowed me to reflect on my past in a peaceful and safe space. When I look up at the snow-covered mountains or watch a herd of deer pass by my window, I become immediately grounded. It doesn’t matter what my mind was dwelling on, or what I was feeling stressed out about just moments ago, all that worthless internal dialogue becomes diminished when I open my eyes to my surroundings.

The contrast between my current reality and the reality of my childhood is like that of night and day, black and white, darkness and light.

I could have been the poster child for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on by childhood trauma. Not a proud statement, but it helps me to think something good could have come from such a distorted life if only one person had recognized my symptoms and saved me from a lifetime of wondering whether or not I had lost my mind.

There are many classic symptoms described in psychological literature. Those symptoms include withdrawn behavior, physiological hyper-reactivity, poor self-esteem, shame, substance abuse, promiscuity, mistrust, suicidality, difficulty in relating to others, sleep problems, secretiveness, refusal to go to the doctor, OCD, habit disorders like picking or rocking, and extreme fear of being touched. How did I score? 100%! But I always have been an overachiever in order to compensate for that poor sense of self-esteem.

I sit here and scratch my head. What a mess. I can’t even begin to fathom what my life would have been like without half these symptoms, let alone none. But for the sake of being positive, I know I am a stronger, more powerful woman at this juncture in life for what I have survived. I just wish that strength had come to me through a set of more normal events...Read More in my show notes on my website here: https://awomaninthewoods.com/show-notes-2/

Question of the Week:

Do you find it easy or difficult to forgive others? Is it hard for you to forgive yourself?

You can email your answers to me at: tracy@awomaninthewoods.com or leave a message on Speakpipe.

The URL for speakpipe is: speakpipe.com/awomaninthewoods.

Nature has its own special type of silence. When I am alone, embraced by it, there is no true absence of sound. On the contrary, you can still hear the breath of the wind as it exhales through the trees. Songbirds create a pleasing hallelujah chorus in surround sound, and the water broadcasts a relaxing symphony as it trickles, splashes, and tumbles its way over the rocks. There is even a barely audible sound when the snow falls on a still winter morning. If you turn your face towards the sky, each flake pirouettes slowly to the ground, and when you hold as still as you possibly can without breathing, I swear you can hear the flakes kiss the earth as they land.This audible silence is medicine for my soul. It is a space that is void of human interference; the not always pleasant tirades and hurtful language that can spill from the human tongue. I have had far too much of that type of noise in my lifetime. The type of noise that sends me spinning out of control and back down into the dark abyss of ugly memories. The type of sounds that trigger my psyche and push it back into that illogical, reactionary space of believing I am once again in danger.Living in the woods is truly the best medicine for my PTSD, however there are times when this bucolic slice of heaven on earth becomes uncomfortable. When there are acres of forest, there are wild animals of the edible kind. Where there are wild animals of the edible kind, there are hunters with guns. Hunters with guns create loud, startling noises that can cause me to jump right out of my skin if I am not prepared for it. I also happen to live in a state with a certain percentage of residents who feel a need to stockpile arms for their own protection. I know the difference between the sound of a hunter’s high-powered rifle or shotgun, and a semi-automatic weapon. The semi-automatic weapon is not a tool for hunters. Its sole purpose is to kill humans. The woods happen to be a favorite place for some of these individuals to do their target practice and when they do, I don’t just jump out of my skin, it makes me want to run as fast as I can and shelter for cover. The noise of rapid gunfire in midst of these natural surroundings is disturbing, to say the least. But the endless rounds of rapid gunfire with multiple weapons is terrifying. It feels like living in a war zone. Even when I am at a safe distance away from the actual shooting, and the wind carries the echoes of the intrusive sound to my ears, my PTSD triggered response is through the roof.Guns are such a controversial subject in this country. Gun lovers stand firm on their Constitutional right to bear arms, while families of victims of gun violence stand just as firmly in their belief in gun reform laws. A heated stalemate that’s void of compromise, while thousands continue to die each year due to gun violence. My personal stance on guns is a mixed bag. I grew up in a place where a large percentage of families were fed by family members who hunted wild game. This was an affordable way for many to keep food on the table, especially those with more limited incomes. I grew up in one of those households. In our house, we had a lot of guns, but those guns were kept safe inside a gun cabinet and we were taught at an early age how to safely handle and shoot those guns. The end-game goal was the ability to use guns to hunt for food. I, however, had zero interest in killing animals, and still do, even if it meant there would be no food on the table. But there were others in my family who carried out that deed, so I did not have to...Read More in the show notes on my website at awomaninthewoods.comQuestion of the Week:When you are faced with a difficult memory, what steps do you take to move beyond it?You can email your answers to me at: tracy@awomaninthewoods.com or record your message from your computer or mobile device on Speakpipe. The URL for Speakpipe is: speakpipe.com/awomaninthewoods.    

This episode I’m going to start things off a little bit differently. I’m going to read a chapter from my upcoming book of essays, Walking on the Edge of Crazy. This essay is titled “Of Demons and Angels.” I also want to say before I start, that I am open to all religions and belief systems. It does not matter to me what you believe, or whether you believe at all. If you are a good human being who is kind to others, then it’s not my, nor anyone else’s place to judge you.

The preacher stood at the pulpit with his sweat stained armpits cocked towards the heavens. His hands snatched at the air in a pleading gesture as he shouted of fire and brimstone, Hell and damnation, Sodom and Gomorrah. 

His striped tie was slung over his left shoulder like a noose and the veins in his neck surged fat with blood. With his deep red face on the verge of explosion, he spewed his verbal tirade without taking a breath. 

Hours had passed since the Revival began. I felt spellbound and at the same time terrified. My eyes were fixated on this strange, plump, gray-haired man with the southern accent as he hopped around the stage and made claim to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ himself. All around me echoed “Hallelujah’s!” and “Amen’s!”

One by one they formed a line to the stage; the young, the old, the rich, the derelict. All seemed to carry some secret internal pain that required cleansing. The preacher’s wife began to sing “Amazing Grace” in a sweet falsetto voice that could only be matched by that of an angel. 

My thirteen-year-old mind struggled to make sense of the scene before me. As each one of the lonely, the sad and the weary reached the preacher he would place his hand on their forehead and ask them to repent.  The congregation shouted “Thank you Jesus!” and he pushed them back into the arms of two burly men in dark jackets who laid them to rest on the cold tile floor...Read More on my website under the Show Notes tab: https://awomaninthewoods.com/show-notes-2/

Question of the Week:

Where do you find the strongest connection to your own soul? Is is it in a church? Through spending time with good friends? Alone in meditation? Maybe you find it while out on a hike in nature like I do. Wherever you find it, I would love to hear from you.

You can send your answers to me by email at: tracy@awomaninthewoods.com or record a message directly through your computer or mobile device at Speakpipe. The URL for Speakpipe is: speakpipe.com/awomaninthewoods.

**Hammerklavier's gospel piano and organ by Timbre on Freesound.org

https://freesound.org/people/Timbre/sounds/85020/