Which Gina Harris?

I follow a fairly common tradition of updating my Twitter profile with a Halloween-themed name and picture for October.

My plan for my costume this year was to get a domino mask and have my name be "Cleverly Disguised Gina Harris". On September 30th I had not gotten a mask. I do have an old witch hat on hand, so I took a picture with that and changed my name to "Which Gina Harris?"

I have decided the question was more clever than intended.

I should also mention that I look like an old hag in that picture. Not like a warty, stereotypical witch hag, just kind of old and hard. One of the most shocking things about this group I participated in via teleconference was discovering that I do have resting bitch face. I used to look more relaxed. And be more relaxed.

When I went downtown two days in a row, that was for a conference. I should write about that more later. For now, being surrounded by people who are coming up with innovative ways to address real problems had me really aware that I am nobody. At least, I do nothing. No, I would not think that about anyone else, but I would really like to make some kind of a contribution. I like to think I have the ability to do so, but really, nothing.

Which is also not fair, because right now I am doing something that is valuable and also the right priority for me now. That has been reinforced many times, but I never stop being aware that there are all of these other things going on, and there is a need for more people helping, and I can't join in because I have responsibilities here.

The thing about dealing with dementia is that you can't actually win. It will continue to progress. Even having adjusted expectations to just going for good days - contented engagement - there is a limit to how much that helps. It does actually help, because many times as I have looked at all of the things that did not get done, I sit back and think "But she had a good day." However, it is not a lasting achievement and I am painfully aware of that.

(Plus it can only get worse and then end in death. That takes a toll on positivity.)

Anyway, I remember at one point having this thought, "I miss me." Then I was like, "What does that mean?"

It felt like I missed feeling strong and being able to get things done.


I know part of it was one person whom I got to visit with briefly; she just exudes strength. She probably doesn't always, but we don't get to see each other that often. From my experience, she radiates power and dynamism. I tried to think of what I radiate, and the most likely answer seemed to be tiredness.

I exude negative energy, I thought, but that isn't really the right way of expressing it. I don't think I put out negativity, but I may transmit a lack of energy. That would make a lot of sense.

I used to commonly be called a rock. People would take about how they could just feel my strength in a hug, and how I could be counted on, and it would be nice to still be like that.

Except, when people said that before, I was a mess then too.

I remember hearing that on my mission. That's fine, but I also had the second worst depressive spell of my life in the mission field, experienced the first time sadness left me literally mute, and once I got into the dust and pollen filled bowl of the San Joaquin Valley, I got sick once per season as the air messed with my lungs.

Someone recently mentioned my strength, who has only known me since this started. Oh, you don't know, but for her, because I can listen and be sensible and supportive for her, I am. But I am also still a mess.

I guess it's all of the above, all at the same time.