18 hour days
Aurora borealis
2 degrees
- transcribed my transcripts today. How the hell did I do two 19 credit semesters back to back and get A-‘s, but fucked it up with far fewer credits…. It’s a nice reminder that my brain has ALWAYS been like this.
‘night.
Sundays have gotten a little easier over the years. But I still feel the pressure of them like a bag of wet concrete on my head. We’ve been having a homey weekend - which is nice!
Leels isn’t really sick anymore, but we don’t want to spread contagion like a pall over the land, so it’s just as well. We’d mask if we went out anyway. It’s sunny and the sun saps my energy. I absorb it and then I feel like melting into the earth never to be seen or heard from again.
Great napping weather; unfortunately not happening today. Lots of cerebral work needs to happen. I’ve been chipping away at the application that is due on Thursday - I’m not hyperventilating; you’re hyperventilating - and the upshot is that everything needs to stop until it’s done.
But also maybe study for the midterm on Wednesday because if I can get out of A & P II Lab with a B, maybe do that.
My personal statement is tricky. How much to share? Not to share? Not to sound super cliche? I honestly haven’t Always Want To Help People exactly. And wanting to work in the medical field (ish) is something I came to, not carried with me. Almost everything I've found personally meaningful so far is what I've come to, not carried.
I don’t dislike people, I do want to help them, but Always Having Wanted To Help Them evokes thoughts of someone else. Makes me think of women who are chipper, bright, make goody bags for every holiday, volunteer for bake sales.
I mean, I volunteered to clean up a municipal park once, and would do it again but I just haven’t gotten around to it, I guess? And need to be paid to in turn pay bills and UGH. I do love helping people, and there’s a really great dopamine (or serotonin?) release when I Accomplish Small Task Specifically That Helps Someone Out and that’s cool. It’s just not my whole identity? I have boundaries? Professional and personal ones? Do they want to hear about that, or no?
And not to be all like I’m So Unique, but I probably am. I don’t have, like, Alaska stories, but I have goat farm/home-church call your dad you’re in a cult/homeschool/late stage realization that I’m AuDHD, etc. stories. Do you want to know all about the extended family trauma or is that relevant? Or not? Just gossip?
I’m at an age where compiling all my “accomplishments”, experiences, etc. in one place gives me a headache. I’m sure other people have much more but at age 36? It’s just so much. And all of it seems relevant, somehow. I don’t often think about how movement arts informs my everything else because the actual bulk of what I did is split in two far-away chunks one of which occurred roughly 20 years ago and the other involves various states of undress. Which is relevant, but how to convey it?
And listing my job responsibilities? Just fucking everything, okay? I did. It. All. And often while the other adult in the room was having a panic attack rather than engaging. /sigh
Guess we’ll see what happens.
I dug out this blog yesterday while looking for something else (when supposed to be doing something different from even the first thing). Ten years. TEN YEARS, MAN. It goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway: things have changed.
Just imagine a montage that lasts an hour. Different hairstyles, different nights spent crying for various reasons many if not most of them initiated by myself. Caught up? Good.
We spent the night at my parents’ house last night. It’s been trifficult to say the least solo parenting. Aside: I’m not getting into it with you about the solo versus single nomenclature; the meanings seem still to be emerging. /aside But it would be a lot harder were it not for my parents and in-laws and it’s…actually not all that much harder than when my husband is here. It’s just lonely, more driving, and my general being over-it-ness with cooking hasn’t much changed in the last ten years. So I don’t do a good job with cooking, but that’s a time probelm. And I’d be doing the dishes anyway, so.
Leels may be sick, but when we arrived the Airbnb vibes were strong. As an adult there’s just something so much more relaxing about walking into a space where there’s nothing for you, personally, to get stressed out about. No messes you or your 4-year-old left from morning when you rushed out the door to get to work ten minutes late (as usual).
Just a clean, cozy movie night with wine and the mental bookmark that you need to get things tidied in the morning before you leave. My cat’s definitely pissed off at me but she would be anyway. I’ll give her wet food. Maybe that’ll make it all okay.
So now: off to do the tidying, get us ready to go and go CLEP out of English Composition. We’ll see how that goes. Then just a regular ol’ sick day with essay drafts, transcripts, lymphs and hematocrit and so on and so forth. Big Buffy the Vampire Slayer vibes.
