Disconnected

I’m officially connected to the world. Or the access is at the tip of my fingers and an outlet in my wall. I have the internet. It doesn’t work. I’m officially also someone with internet problems. I’ve owned this access for an entire day and can’t get access. It just won’t connect to devices. I have terrible cell service so this seemed an accurate option for all the remote learning my kids can do but probably won’t. It’s also free for now. It also just doesn’t work. I can’t trouble shoot it, it’s not in my realm of trouble shooting. I will disassemble it. I’ve already looked at the router or modem or whatever box it is and it has screws. Screws that hold all the secrets to little electric worlds I need to take apart.

I downloaded an app to help me connect and trouble shoot. It so far hasn’t let me into the app. It needs a password that I don’t know. It needs an authentication. I set one up with the cute technician who came to help me troubleshoot why I couldn’t attach the cord to the wall. Now the device says that is not the correct one. In my settings on my device it doesn’t recognize that I named my modem/router. It’s as if it doesn’t exist yet it sits in the corner blinking that it’s online. Everyone is online including my box, but me. I told my son I just don’t care enough to figure it out. Or I will end up caring too much. I’ve heard horror stories of waiting for technicians to come help. Not quite horror stories like being murdered or assaulted but just stories of waiting. People who sit and wait for access to the world and don’t have access to the world while they wait. They don’t know what to do. Including wait.

My technician came at the half way point of the time slot I chose. He was polite, wore gloves and booties and explained things to me that I clearly wasn’t listening to. He didn’t murder or assault me. I say it was a good service call except…I didn’t listen. I was too concerned with the picture of him on his phone with a light saber. Also too concerned with why he came at the half way point. Too concerned with looking for screws to open the box and see what’s inside. Too concerned that he propped the outside door open with a tool. Too concerned with being concerned about not being concerned with what I needed to know. I was just not concerned with what he was saying about connecting things. I thought I heard but when I applied it later in the day I tried to pull it out and just found the light saber picture in my memory. All my teachers laughing in my head at how I can’t apply myself. Which I can’t. No one explained how or showed me where to apply.

I’m not going to be a good internet owner. I won’t use it. I won’t worry about why it doesn’t connect and won’t care if power goes out and I can’t use it. I’m like a recovering addict who puts a bottle of wine unopened to dare them to open and expose all the shame they once felt. That box is mine. It was a place I took myself so I didn’t have to take myself to my own self. I avoided my damage control needed and concerned myself with others. Looking and picking apart other people to see what was so wrong with me. I just didn’t want to own my story. I wanted to have one like I see online. Perfect.

There is a misconception I own of what is perfect. I now see that what we see is what we see not know. I often felt that if I didn’t let the world know of my adventure then it didn’t happen. What I found is I was letting the wrong people know. What I also found is so much more than what I tried to find looking outside of myself.

So that box sits there tempting me to want to remind myself. To see if I can go and come back. It won’t happen. I have that kind of control now. It can sit there blinking away it’s adventures all it wants to because I can’t get connected anyway.

My daughter wants me to reassure her my dad won’t die. I don’t know how to. He could. So could I. So could she. This isn’t information to assure a small child of a long life. How can I say it so she understands that I’m saying life is precious, life is a gift, it’s a moment, it’s worth every minute?How do I say it so she knows I’m saying live every moment because it might be the last? How do I say that so she doesn’t use that moment worrying it might be the last. How do I say it so I believe it too?

She cried, she misses him so much. She had a big feeling for a big feeling she can’t seem to grasp. I let her cry and held her. She told me I let her cry and it’s ok as long as it’s not crying over something she can’t have, like a toy. I’ve told her to wrap those tears up kind of quickly. She can’t have her papa. She also can’t wrap her tears up quickly. This is an exception I tell her. These kinds of wants are not the same as a toy. She cries harder. Now I’m crying. My thoughts are leaking.

What if he dies? She asks.

Then we remember everything we love about him, we cry sometimes, we laugh, we get angry, we run off and stomp that life is cruel to take him, we pout, we keep him inside our heads and hearts.

How?

With our memories. They stay. Even if we aren’t thinking of them they are there. Even if we don’t remember them they are there.

Do you promise he won’t die?

No.

But I will miss him.

Yes.

I’m holding back my own tears. I don’t want to have big feelings either. I’m still 6 when it comes to my dad. If I don’t know where he is, he died.

I’m hoping they close all parks. I am worried we might unknowingly cause more damage to the places that aren’t used to people coming to places. We will interact with wildlife more than it is used to. Frighten and maybe destroy delicate habitats and systems we don’t know exist or understand. What will happen when this ends? Will it even end? People will want to escape. Like caged animals they will run all over leaving their footprints. They say to only leave footprints. What if it’s just too many?

People walk around with gloves and masks on. In cars. I see them lifting them to drink their coffees they get from McDonald’s. I see them remove gloves to touch screens, I see them afraid to breath our air. Am I not afraid enough? Am I breathing dangerous air or am I giving off dangerous air? If they are that afraid shouldn’t they be staying inside like they want us to? Shouldn’t I? I’m not afraid. I keep trying to be. I can’t do it. I quickly calm myself down. I can’t seem to think I’m about to die from a virus and can’t seem to think I’m single handedly responsible for killing thousands with my air. I don’t think it’s fair to put that kind of pressure on a single human. I don’t want to be someone who thinks we have to many people but I might be someone who thinks we have too many people. I also don’t want any of them gone. I wish we had more space to keep growing. I include myself. I may be one who is eliminated. So could my children. But it could happen in a million different ways. Am I also never going to drive? Or fly? Or boat? Or swim? The immediate imminent danger is usually what we don’t expect. I can wrap myself up on a tyvex suit and get ran over by a school bus delivering food to kids stuck at home. I can’t not live.

I am officially counted as people in the world. I was warned I needed to be properly counted so I finally did it. Will I also be subtracted? Do they do an opposite census? Is that what we are doing now? Counting loss? Right? What about the saying for every so many people that die so many are born? Is it still an even number? Was it ever? Lots of folks cooped up inside so maybe that will come later? A make up census will be needed? I don’t want millions of people to die but I don’t want to feel the pressure that somehow I can save them all. Or the pressure that I am selfish for wanting to continue to breath air.

When I did the census they ask a lot of questions about your race and color. Are we still there? In a world that needs these kinds of boxes. I was shocked it didn’t ask sexual status. It asked male and female. Some don’t like those option. I’m not some, I can accurately identify, but some can not. They feel confusion and isolated when they have no box to check they fit in. I was asked to chose my color. I chose white. It’s as close to the peach/tan like color I am. Then when I hit submit it demands more info about my color. It felt kind of personal. It also didn’t have an option I could chose. I typed in none. It took it. I probably could have written lizard and it would have, now I wish I had written lizard just to see. I’m sure there are some great big great reasons to need to know these things, like will we all fit? On the planet. Should we try to habitate another planet? Will where we all go? Maybe it’s to project out further? To assume a number in 20 years based on the current one, then to be able to see if we guessed right? Maybe it’s to make sure we make enough toilet paper? Or it’s just something to do for people who like to count. Habitate isn’t a word. I want it to be, but it just isn’t. I want the word for habitat that is an action and don’t want to look it up. Maybe I mean populate?

I can’t wrap my thoughts up into a neat and tidy ending, they keep going today. My big feeling keeps going in big leaky thoughts. That’s how I cry for the things I don’t understand. Like my dad dying. I can’t wrap my tears up anymore than my daughter can. I have to think through them. I can’t use the internet and don’t care. I don’t want anyone else to die and am too sad for too many things today. I keep thinking of as many things as I can so I don’t think of the things that I don’t want to think about. So I keep thinking.