What does it mean that my preference is to isolate, at an age when I should have long been out socializing with my peers? Settling down and having kids, so they say.

Instead of doing that, I’m voyeuristically browsing through crime scene photos, and studying dead bodies. Noting the stillness. Feeling it within my bones.

Sometimes I wonder what it is like. Not to say I am suicidal; I’m not. But I think it is within everyone to wonder. And there are different levels of wondering. Myself, it can be very easy to let the dark side creep in. Others seem able to briefly consider it as a thought, others further fret over it anxiously; myself, I have seen the point of no return. I have stood in its place, I have breathed its air, I have been swallowed whole by that emotion.

What does it mean when you are the one who stepped back from that precipice?

The bloated corpse of a woman in one of the photos is wearing an engagement ring that looks just like one my friend Julia received. Which reminds me of the RSVP to her wedding she’d sent that I’d yet to respond to. Bitch still thinks she can get away with holding an in person wedding come September. In the middle of a pandemic.

A fucking Zoom wedding won’t do. No, she thinks she can do this right. Without masks. I wanted to ask if she was clinically insane, but this is the pattern all of my female and ultimately male friends have followed over the years. Nothing else matters except their love. It is truly the epitome of ‘fools rush in.’

Trust me. I have been a bridesmaid for five weddings and maid of honor for two. I have seen some shit.

Except there’s a raging pandemic going on that people seem to have decided to ignore. And my neurologist has cautioned me against doing stupid shit, like exposing myself willfully to the plague.

What does it mean when you start to wonder if doing so would be better than this?

I was doing some reading about how the current virus attacks the body, especially the lungs, which can cause the body to become so air hungry that it is truly frightening. The body can ultimately experience cardiorespiratory failure, and even with a tube down the throat, it is said that pink froth can be seen bubbling up the tube.

What does it mean when you start to think the pink froth would be better?

No more memories. No more looping reel, night after night. No more days spent dissociating. No more paralyzing flashbacks. Beyond that, no more apocalyptic future. Way beyond that, no more mind-bending drama.

My mother likes to say “we’re in it for the long time,” which is really her failure to phrase English idioms well. But it essentially means that even with the bullshit, we stand until we are no longer. Crisis after crisis. Even when we might want to sit. We are meant to endure until the end, my mother told me. Such is life. Our maker can answer later as to why we had to endure such horrors.

I was fortunate to have bought my house when I did. Things would have looked very different in this financial climate, even with the money I have saved and invested.

And yet, with my furlough being handed down from UC Berkeley, I find myself in the position to consider a lot of things. From the deep dark quarantine anxiety we all faced, to what my position in life might be going forward. To the mindfuckery that started before the pandemic for me, and never seemed to stop. Of course I hope that everything will eventually be sunshine and rainbows, and that the furlough will be lifted and I’ll be able to return to work with my girls. As it is, the future of Cal Athletics is looking really sad.

So I find myself exploring my own future in business.

Which is easier said than done when your preference is to isolate. When the allure of depressive symptoms can be overwhelming. My therapist says this is a trauma reaction. Yeah, no shit. I think everyone on the planet is experiencing some sort of trauma reaction right about now. She speculates that I feel unsettled because these uncertain, unstable times are somehow subconsciously reminding me of Sarajevo.

Mention the pink froth to her and she is quick to remind me that even though Sarajevo was bad, eventually things got better. There were major dips in the road, but more or less it was better; it was safe. Sort of. We won’t get into Nassar, USAG in general, competitive sport culture, or the neglect of coaches on overworked athletes. We won’t get into the instability of a newly resettled refugee family, the financial and food insecurity, the debt, the struggle to learn a foreign language, the fights and dumb teenage mistakes. As open as I am about my mental health, to go there would benefit neither you nor I.

The point is this: the lesson doesn’t end. It only shifts and changes. It’s recognizing it and how you cope with it that matters. Like some of my athletes who like to peacock it up, thinking they’ve learned everything there is to learn.

We are always learning.

While some private facilities are petitioning to reopen their gyms, it’s a financial decision driving much of it; not safety. There will be questions going forward about the ability to social distance in competition, and even about sanitizing equipment in between uses. It will be difficult when costs need to be cut across the board. Smaller clubs may ultimately fail. The collegiate system and the NCAA I believe will sort things out, eventually. Keyword eventually.

So what does it mean when a furloughed gymnast loses her ability to coach face-to-face? She caves and starts a side hustle business.

Somehow, this is a lesson, I’m just not sure how yet.

Meanwhile, I’m about to fill out my one millionth RSVP to the wedding of a friend, to the taste of rum and self-deprecation. That’s a lesson too, I think.

All the necessary paperwork is in, so I can officially announce that I am now offering one-on-one video conferencing/coaching sessions (telecoaching?) to my current and former gymnasts, as well as new athletes, thru Moon Flora Studios. We are also offering group yoga classes over Zoom beginning June 22nd — with beginner’s sessions offered on Mondays at 11AM Pacific, intermediate on Wednesdays at 4PM Pacific, and advanced on Thursdays at 9AM Pacific. Fridays will feature restorative yoga sessions open to all levels, at 7PM Pacific, and will include an ethereal sound bath by the gifted Lorenna Slim.

More details to come, I promise, but this is very much happening. Even if it’s livestreamed out of my home for the time being, until we can find a brick-and-mortar location.

That’s not guaranteed.

Rum, though. Rum is guaranteed.