time keeps on slipping

 Here's what I hope for the Summer:

- wake up early and teach for VIP Kids or something remotely

- make breakfast for the house, do dishes, listen to a podcast; breakfast to be ready by the time everyone wakes up

- go to a park for the morning (have a day of the week where we go to the library, trampoline park, a museum, the workshop, run errands [painful, but necessary] etc. so there's some sort of pattern)

- drop off at Grandma or Memaw's for a couple of hours so I can Grubhub or Instacart to make up the difference between whatever I make on the remote service and what I need to pay my half of the bills

- afternoon hike (aka "Sweat Your Ass Off Death March") until everybody's thresholds have been met and back home we go

- play at home time/do your chores time while I get dinner ready and do my chores

- screentime with dad (probably); I'll take a bike ride or run or do a yoga probably

- bath and bed

- couples time

- wake up and do it all again

...and Statistics homework in there somewhere for the first half of June, but that's what I get!

no news isn't good news

 ...but not all bad news. The bad news is the good news. That's where I'm at. 

The general malaise I've been feeling since...whenever...last week has turned out to be COVID. Which is fine - this will be the third round (I think?) and has been super-easy. It could have been allergies! It probably also is allergies. Just with an extra layer of malaise and tiredness on top. If this is the only way I get any downtime so be it. It's just been sleeping in a little (yay), doing the same amount of homework but less stressed, and avoiding people. So: pretty much okay.

Leela's having a harder time with it, and also tested negative. I think I have to test again on Wednesday? But also I have to have a background check renewed by then? My inner adult helpfully suggests that maybe I could just email the person in charge of background checks and tell them I'm supposed to isolate, so could we extend that date? 

My inner teen dirtbag points out that I'm schlepping my ass and my kid's ass to the optometrist tomorrow morning regardless of what we're supposed to be doing and didn't that work out nicely give that I'd asked for that time off and had no indication that I was going to get it and maybe it was just meant to be. Well, that's still super-irresponsible, teenage dirtbag. But, yes. I'm probably going to do it anyway. Because I've already had to reschedule once and they weren't super happy about it. At this point I don't know if I'm going to go because I don't want to inconvenience the scheduling person (weak sauce rationale, sis), I just don't give a fuck (because we're going to be masking so in theory it should be okay - also weak sauce), or they were a tiny bit rude to me on the phone (it was justified rudeness; I was trying to complete an Instacart order that went a bit long and don't have a bead on How Long Things Take Suprise, Surprise and called one minute before the appointment to reschedule it). Probably that last one.

That makes me a bad person. I am aware.

And getting COVID has ruined my mother-in-law's birthday plans. Which I feel the appropriate amount of guilty for.

But there are worse things going on. 

Leel's best friend's mom had a brain aneurysm sometime Friday. I don't know all the details and it's hard to know what to do. We're not close enough to be on "take my kids" terms, so another family has the kids until...I don't know when. I don't know much really. I want to help. I'll figure out how to help. All I can think of are meals and childcare. Maybe they could spend the night some night? Or have a playdate? Or just facetime the Friend? But I don't know family who has them super-well either. And they don't have Facebook. But we work for the same hospital, so I could email them, I guess, using the database.

I would like to just sleep, but the normal amount of thinking keeps me from taking a proper nap. So I'm here, typing it out frantically in hopes that it'll alleviate the thoughts.

• Jennette McCurdy's memoir was great; but it's over now. My hold on Norwegian Wood came through on Libby, though. Time to read that again. I could've sworn I had a copy floating around somewhere. But I guess I left it in Texas. The only thing that made it through the gauntlet was a set of black, circular coasters that stare at me every time I walk over to my parents' house for wine. At a dinner with friends the other night one of them said they heard Norwegian Wood was "kind of bro-ey". And I'd honestly never thought of it like that - but yeah. I guess so. I guess I'm about to find out.
• Still haven't read Gravity's Rainbow, tho'. Maybe this year's the year. Still have that.
• Isn't it unreasonable to want me to know all the different layers of tissue in the GI tract? There are a fuck-ton of them. And ever since getting feedback and protesting her feelings weren't going to get hurt, the lab coordinator has ceased directly teaching the lab material and just gestures, going: "Well, it's in the notes. Come to an open lab." which is fair enough, except I'm not going to do that (the open lab bit). One is usually epithelial tissue. So.
• Nothing back from Creighton. I'd feel worse, but I feel shaky at best about the whole damn thing. So. I'm awaiting my rejection letter in the mail, basically.
• Often "The Waters of March" plays in my head. And hey - it's March! And that's not a conscious connection.
• It's been gorgeous, lately. Sunny, snowy. If I felt better I'd say we should go skiing. But I don't feel better. Or bad enough to not feel guilty about the things I'm not doing. 
• We took the donut floatie Leels scored by being extra cute at the municipal pool out and tested it on the neighbordhood sledding hill. 10/10 Probably going to do it again. Don't know if we can or should take it to the pool again, though.
• Thirty...five days? I should probably start a countdown, like I did for Prescott. But who has the time? Mucosa. Submucosa. Two layers of Muscle. Adventitia or Serosa. 
• I'm sure part of it is that I haven't gotten the endorphins from working out in what will be two weeks soon. I get real fucking grumpy without that. And somewhat concerned about my surgery knee.
• In moments I try to think about what my letter will look like. I think it's going to contain a little bit about how they've been great role models for me, how meaningful it's been to me (it has been), how very much it's time. There have been great moments. Thank you notes I still have and try to keep in safe places. The time a parent anonymously sent me flowers at work. Knowing that I connected some families to each other and that there's a lot of love there still. But it's like a symphony winding down, or credits playing on a movie now. Maybe I'm as competent as I'll ever be. Maybe not - maybe I peaked long ago. I certainly don't have the best read on that. But I don't have anything more to accomplish or prove.
•  In my performance review my boss said something that stung a little. She said she thought I was "too ambitious" for the field of early childhood. I don't know why I don't like that term. It's too close to "uppity", I guess. I had a coworker who called me uppity (well; she said, "You don't seem as uppity as usual today." regarding some drama that was happening) and although there's nothing wrong with that word per se, it's not how I view myself. Curious, yes. From the background I'm from (white, lower middle class, education was important to my family), yes. To me, ambitious has a tint about it of things never being good enough for the person. Uppity a tinge of wanting to rise beyond their class - but that idea being laughable. 
• I'd more say I want to learn more (and the time that I asked about academic leave for a master's in this field being shot right the fuck down; she brought it up as a possibility for this degree here I'm looking at but there's no way in hell that would work. None. Also, I am burnt out and that sounds like a surefire way to develop an ulcer.), the information I want to learn is somewhat gatekept by the medical professions, and as is I am so so so so so financially unstable. I don't want that for me and my family for the rest of time. I'd like to do something that I'll be compensated for adequately, thanks. That I think I'll be good at. That's needed.
• The way other people see me is none of my business, though. I get flashes at times and they're always surprising. Like being told I'm extroverted by someone I've just met at a party. Although that term is somewhat falling out of style.
• I get to arrange a duet to "Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits" by The Magnetic Fields for a show later this year, which I'm excited about. Maybe I can score some sweet bunny gear on clearance from the Christ holiday! 

Narrative Cohesion

 I love narrative cohesion.

- like when I took myself out to Little Shop of Horrors one night and the guy in the burlesque troupe who’d been (very lightly) hitting on me happened to be there too. He was on a date with the woman who would someday be his wife. They were seated right next to me with him between me and FutureWife, and he says at one point, “Hm. I just…don’t know what I want to do.” In reference I think to…us. Right then I realized that I was in a walk-on role in his life’s narrative. I love moments like that - when it’s so clear! 

Because it’s usually a lot messier than that.

Reading: I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jeannette McCurdy

The Third Thing

 Chunks of my adult and child life have been spent in figuring out how to say "the right thing". A trick that I found worked was: the third thing. Don't say the first thing that comes to mind, don't say the second thing. The third thing - that's the right one.

Trial and error led me to that conclusion. Some kind people, and some not-so-kind people participated in that process. But that process caused me to realize that I really needed to curate myself. To survive! Socially. And socially is pretty much it, man, survival-wise. 

Survival is so important. It's always been hard for me to think beyond survival. And that resulted in some pretty strange reactions to people and situations.

I listen to the "Something Was Wrong" podcast and often I find myself comparing past decisions to things the antagonists say or do and not liking how I measure up. Not so much the Faking My Whole Identity And Leading You To Believe We're Going To Get Married And I Have a Child When Nothing I Say Is True (tm) or Just Plain Abusive Asshole (tm) ones, but there are a few that are specifically women telling stories about other women with clear mental health issues that negatively impacted those around them and wow. Those hit different.

I find myself shoegazing a lot when those come on, and feeling extremely uncomfortable. Because, had it not been for the kind people I did find myself surrounded by I could very well have been these women. Okay, well, at times I was. I never did cocaine in my office at a psychology practice for weeks at a time, sure, but I was certainly a shitty roommate many times over. 

And how to set kind, reasonable boundaries was never emphasized to me as important to personhood until 28 at best, so many of my decisions were reactions against, and informed by self-medicating - not really reflective or considerate of others feelings.

Anyway. Happy Thursday. Still waiting to see if we have COVID. Oh, but still need to go into work just in case we don't. 🤨

Between 37 and 39

This one is a letter to vitahaecmimusest. Feel free to skip over if you're not him. 

Hey Sir.

In 2015, I visited Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival. Kind of. I just wanted to visit the UK. This was a wonderful experience, but I can't really write about it coherently. Here are some fragments:

- Before I left I left your lighter in a hollow tree by the triplex I was renting in Government Hill. Truly it was the most beautiful place I have ever lived. And the site of some very sad feelings, but the view of the city and the walks I used to take while on the phone with my family - and sleeping in a loft - I miss those things. The tree was ancient and seemed to know what it was doing. You'd just gotten married, I think, and I was extra sad (and angry) because less than a year before (I think? The timelines get blurry.) you'd written me exactly twice to tell me you weren't going to abandon me again. There was the feeling that maybe your wife didn't want you to write to me anymore? Fair. There was the feeling that you'd not only abandoned me again, but I wasn't worth the conversation I assume would have happened:

    - "Hey ma'am, I thought I could be your friend again, but I can't. There's just a lot to process here and a) you're toxic and just too much; I feel bad for abandoning you again but feel worse having you in my life, so - later days! b) after everything that's happened I just don't think we can be friends again; I don't know how to do it anymore and there's no point in trying c) something else." 

    - In any case I thought I wanted to cut a piece of my heart out and bury it in this tree. The tree would know what to do with it. It must still be there. Maybe someday I'll drive up there and try to recover it, because I still miss you. Lighter or no lighter. Scrabble around in Government Hill like the crazy lady I am and stick it on an altar I may someday make. Christ.

- I met my current husband shortly before I went to Scotland. He wasn't a fan then and isn't a fan now of changes like that. But, in short, in my lived experience - people die all the time, leave all the time, and if we are alive all we are is lucky. So take the damn trip to Scotland. Even if it's uncomfortable and scary.

- Right around that time one of my cousin's eldest daughter went missing. She went on a roadtrip with her then-boyfriend and he killed her and committed suicide. It drove my cousin to the very limits of grief. I think about them both an awful lot. Especially because I have a daughter now.

- On the trip I discovered that I have a very hard time with traveling and feeling okay. Almost the entire time was consumed with the thrum of anxiety, (the usual) financial worry, and physical pain (don't get an IUD inserted right before you travel someplace where walking will be your primary mode of transport up and down hills). I felt confused about who I was and why I was there.

- Why the fuck did I go to Edinburgh during fringe if I hate crowds? The first week I had no traveling companion, and that was scary. Pre-murder podcasts being popular but I feel like if you know - you know. 28 year old basically white American woman traveling solo will...most likely be fine. But also, I got a lot of looks on the street sometimes, and other times a lot of "Why are you talking?" vibes. 

- There was sleeping - which was glorious. 

- Art museums (majestic, of course), the green, walking cobblestone alleys, burlesque shows and dance shows, cricket from afar, tapas, (probably not) meeting Banksy, and rides through the countryside looking for hair coos. 

- Scottish Mexican food is all right, in case you were wondering.

- And the first substantial red flag of my future marriage popped up. 

- So, what's my point? 

- I might not have one. I feel like I'm just pulling on threads of memory. Oh, right!

- That experience didn't wash me clean in the way I wanted it to. I wasn't a new person. My shortcomings and needs were...the same. Just thrown into relief on a highland backdrop. My loves and losses the same. My mom the same. My incompetencies.

- Maybe also: life is short. And I still miss you.

Between 38 and 40

- Days, that is. (Probably left at my job.)

- I’m terrified, but also relieved. Maybe a post for a different time. I’ll miss a lot about it. But not the stress of the sheer scope of the job. 

- not the days where atop 10 hours on the clock we also have our lunch breaks cut in half. There’s no legal recourse. I looked.

- Spring break is over, and not that I ever really stopped studying but the intensity hasn’t been what it should be. I feel a crap mom and in limbo. Exhausted. Allergy season set in EXACTLY on Ostara. So. 

- IDK, man. I’m just done. 

- 

Probably Fine

 I started a long post and then, as happens, just didn’t get around to finishing it. So we’re here now.

A therapy session and deadass five days of stressing about *gestures broadly at everything* and we’re here now.

We talked about it. I was proud of how I communicated. I’m pretty good at it sometimes. And the other times I just pangolin it, but. That’s…just how it is. 

Things will, hopefully, edge toward better now. Or at least different. Or at least not worse.

It’s raining and windy. I’m sitting in the truck while S takes Leels into the grocery store (their decision; I offered to come - several times). We just took her to Chuck E. Cheese for the first time and she had the best time I think anyone could have.

I felt overwhelmed as FUCK, just like I do every time. Children’s birthday parties and Chuck E. Cheese just doesn’t make for a good time. For me. Also casinos. Fairs. Water parks. Six flags. Nightclubs. When bands play at crowded bars. Amusement park rides (it’s a subcategory). Music festivals are very iffy. Marci Gras is probably also a not? Most other venue entertainment is fine, but I need spiritual preparation and exact expectations. 

Plant Something Pretty and Call It a Day

 I am. So tired. Of being yelled at. Accused of being manipulative. 

Physically tired.

I didn’t buy a rubber sheet the last two times you asked because they don’t really make rubber sheets anymore. It’s waterproof mattress protectors now, it’s not 1982. And, as a matter of fact, I did buy an extra one of those one of the last times I went to the store. They were both getting laundered last night. I’m the only one who does laundry or dishes or cleans. But you don’t care about that.

But you don’t care about that. 

But you. Don’t seem. To.

I think I'm...done? I've hit my limit? This just isn't a good match? I'm well aware I'm not really intelligent. Not really. 

I'm average, I get it. But I do deserve for my partner to not say things like, "If I weren't here, you'd live like an animal." Bruh. I'm not the one leaving cigarette packages around. Dropping my clothes everywhere. Sticking nicotine pouches on every flat surface. And leaving my child's lunchboxes and containers in their truck for WEEKS AT A TIME. And punching holes in the bedroom wall a year ago that you have no intention of fixing, evidently?

I don't really mean for this to turn into a rant about my partner each and every time. But this is kind of what dominates my thoughts, ends up with me dysregulating, not doing homework, being, again, fucking tired. 

I don't see a way forward in any direction. And, hey - there's a lot of great stuff in my life!

One of my rant-ey thoughts earlier tonight was, "Wow there's a lot of good stuff going on in your [partner's] life. You're missing it, though." Sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively. 

Can't really really help that I'm the hot mess I am. Chipping away at it, though! Doesn't happen overnight, don't appreciate the effort not being recognized or affirmed! Some if not many-to-most concerns - I validate them! Yes, I'm not all that! No, not fun that I can't seem to keep a clean house or car, remember the things you say and become physically uncomfortable if I do not have An IRL Quest going on. There are many memes going around that state some version of "If you're a priority they make you a priority and remember what you say and you feel it." and, okay. That feels shitty. I know. I know. I know. But I'm not trying to be shitty. I am trying to stack my Maslow's hierarchy any way I can and in the moment priorities may shift. Maybe I got in the weeds on laundry, agreed to have friends over until midnight, didn't expect you to pass out in in The Child's bed, had her go potty before lying down (which usually does the trick but - she's FOUR, man. The 10-year-old still has potty accidents at night at times which really seems to trigger you, but maybe THERAPY, perhaps because urine is a normal bodily function not sterile, lots of ammonia but still a Thing That Happens, so write that down) and Jesus Christ just sometimes things do not work out.

And the floors? Bitch, I do not care about your floor feelings. You're right about that. However, I do not remember you asking me to wait on the floors until you got back from Kodiak. If you did, it was overridden by the feelings I got when Leel's friend's very nice family dropped by unexpectedly one day and the house was a wreck and the carpets looked like hot trash and I just wanted to fucking cry because their house is so clean and I just fucking can't. Not with all the shit I have going on. 

No fucking wonder it's hard to connect with anyone on a friendship level, all the insecurity washing around.

But what would this really look like, ideally, to you, a (as far as I know) cis-het man? Your wife working 40-42 hours a week. Being the primary parent. In school to the tune of probably another 20 hours a week. What do you think this would reasonably look like? [sigh]

Today is gone. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.

...it's Dr. Seuss month. I had to.

wake up and do it all again

 The snow is starting to melt, revealing the ice berms that have encased every roof in Anchorage. The snowfall this winter was ridiculous. Beautiful. Reminiscent of a Grandma Moses painting. Inconvenient. Sparkly. Resultant in my dad getting up on the roof many too many times considering his age and surgical history (even though specifically asked not to; he doesn't immediately buy in when other people ask him to do things. Or not do things, as the case may be.) 

But in any case it's melting now. Roofs are leaking. Collapsing under the weight of the snow. Avalanches shooting off the top. The sun cheerfully glaring on as it's happening.

I'm stuck in limbo over here. Trying to do things that are hard for me; everything feels extra hard. I can't comprehend, can't remember, feel burnt out by work, by school, by all the money issues everyone is dealing with right now.

May is usually when things change in my life. I'm sure it's an impersonal season change sort of thing in some ways. And in other, super personal ways, it's just that I'm tired, boss.

I'm sure things look, if not fine, then good enough from the outside. For one of the coaching explorations we did I was asked to record myself (and my co-teacher) during a tricky transition. And even though I knew I felt horrible on the inside (dysregulated, melting-down - just over all shitty) in the video I look and sound calm, collected, and present. Well, okay. Maybe not present. But it definitely didn't look how I was feeling.

From that I take it that perhaps everyone else thinks I am totally fine - just maybe a bit of a bitch (what with the detachment/disassociation factor and all). This makes sense. Growing up it was made very clear that strong feelings were not welcome, would not be addressed, and to find a hidey hole to ride out the emotions until I was ready to be a person again.

There are social contexts in which this is true. But there are many more in which it isn't. And having the built-in sense that it's not safe to express opinions and emotions not only makes it so that on a systemic level I just shouldn't but that my system itself dismisses the emotions and I hardly ever get a bead on what I'm feeling, why I'm feeling it, or how it actually makes sense to bring it up in whatever context. 

So am I CPTSD or autism? I don't know. Does it matter? Probably not from a practical standpoint. There are management techniques for both or either. 

But now I have to get ready for work so here we go again!

Time to be profesh, dust myself off, tell myself it's okay to be disappointed and sad about yesterday's test, and turn my attention to the lungs. Because there's no time to dwell. EVER. 

Northern Lads

 It’s not so much that there’s nothing to say. Moreso that it doesn’t feel safe to talk. Just so many times where I’d be vulnerable followed by my partner telling me I’m selfish. Ranting about what a terrible mom I am. A terrible wife. Eventually, I just stopped caring about the connection piece. Why would I share anything intimate with someone who has told me for YEARS that I’m a terrible person, my plans are shit, I can’t do anything. The usual “I have problems with my mom that I’m taking out on you” bullshit.

And, of course, it’s not that black-and-white. I’ve been toxic. I am toxic? I don’t know. I absolutely agree that I’m…I don’t know. A mess, in some ways. But I also know that I try. But the urge to FIX IT FIX IT NOW has long been exhausted and the best I can do is tolerate the unpleasantness. And find what works for me. And do that.

Because I’m the one doing the things. Could I even integrate help if I needed it? *sigh*Probably not. Yesterday I came downstairs after a micro nap to start putting the living room back together. And as I’m working my partner kept getting in my face about helping. There were a few environmental and experiential factors such that I just couldn’t tolerate this very well. To wit:

- hormones (PMS)

- inadequate variety of foods (I need to eat or I will Bitch)

- my partner chronically being on a different sleep schedule than me and Leels (doesn’t make him a bad person, just makes me feel disconnected)

- my partner day drinking (pretty much every day he doesn’t work, but especially a problem on days when I need him to coparent)

I don’t know. I just can’t. Ask. For help. Even in the most horrible, painful parts of my life it’s been too much to parse. I truly don’t know what it would take.

Plus, from a household standpoint my brain just doesn’t have a One Project Then Done setting. That’s why I have a chore chart (get into iiiiiit). I hate micromanaging others anyway and I especially don’t want to do that on my day off. And then there’s the perpetual half-assery and hindsight component.

Case in point: starting to fold laundry, then recruiting me to put away my clothes, declaring: “I don’t know how to fold half these things!” And leaving the rest on the table for me to do later anyway.

This is how it goes for everyone, yes? 

But anyway I don’t even want to go to couples therapy at this point because I know it’s just going to be one more thing for ME to coordinate. And in the past when we’ve gone, it’s really just turned into a therapy session for S. He could have done that on his own! 

What must it be like to be the kind of woman who can coordinate appointments for her whole family, run the house, project manage the things and not feel resentful about her partner, well- gestures at above. I feel like I’m on roller skates at an ice rink and every little thing is falling off and catching on fire and WHAT ARE YOU SO STRESSED ABOUT? OH, C’MON WHO CARES? 

Capillaries, lymph, and immunity are making for a nice distraction. Exam, conferences, meetings, and maybe catching up with friends this week. + a kid birthday party.

Speaking of things falling off and catching on fire….

Auricles

 ...and the idyllic pool scene turned into a double ear infection. So that's good.

Simple

We’ve been doing a thing where I take Leela to the West high school pool every Saturday morning. Usually we’re late because I love to have slow mornings and do nothing in particular until it’s Panic Time. 

But today we’re early! And I got coffee and gas and extra monies for gummies even though it’s -3 Fahrenheit outside. And all because my husband is back and squirreling around installing flooring downstairs. 

His whole deal with this is that Leels mustn’t come downstairs while the project is in progress because of all the tools lying around the space. Not much to do then, so we just…left. 

It’s nice, quiet, watery, I paddle around or do homework (or this, I guess) and feel virtuous as a result.

Nausea Is a Good Sign, Right?

 I just (okay, not JUST - three days ago) spent an hour putting my transcript into the OTCAS portal class by class. And oh boy. Tha feels.

Not that I’m not the same person or anything, but I’m certainly not younger than drinking age trying to manage a seriously hard major with nil life experience having just transferred in from, essentially, a cult and theeeeeen my love of what had been helping me in a therapeutic sense was all but killed by the dance program. 

I felt really sad for that kid. She wasn’t and the BEST person, but she was certainly not in a good place. And certainly not getting the help she needed. Not that she would have accepted it if it manifested. *sigh* 

It’s not that she wanted to be a dancer more than life, it’s just that admitting mistakes and changing direction seemed like death. Because of my family. It’s not that I didn’t want to learn. It’s just that changing was scary because it meant who I had been was Not Enough. Oh, also the AuDHD.

I did a couple of observation hours two days ago and the two OTs I observed shot down the idea that I could be AuDHD. 🫤

We’ll…. If you spend shit tons of hours in a dance studio you also spend a lot of time with certain types of structure and pretending.  Also the stakes are very high. Also they’d just met me…. Blarg. I’d like to think that if I were neurotypical I could pay my bills on time without autopay, not feel like I’m going to die if I’m not moving, pay attention to a whole-ass movie without an assist from alcohol or an unfamiliar environment or marijuana or just straight up doing something else at the same time. Maybe my life wouldn’t be a mess. Maybe I could focus on what you’re talking to me about when you’re talking to me and not stim stim stim to bring it in. Maybe I wouldn’t keep overloading myself with projects and commitments. Maybe I would be able to fucking actually memorize material. Or not spend 20 hours a week on 4 bio credits.

Or maybe no one can and I’m just living in a fantasy world. 

If I don’t get in to grad school this cycle, I’m still going to apply for the next one. So. What to do in this year? Maybe this is the year I finally bartend. Or maybe I’ll just be boring and work somewhere for the health insurance.

Have a good weekend.