No Wonder I Cry In Public So Much; and Yelling At Me About It Isn't Going To Change ANYthing, Broski

Growing up sensory: as an adult I have been given to understand that most people can't hear the high-pitched whine of electricity. Aren't bothered by lightbulbs vibrating against glass fixtures if the size is wrong.

When I was growing up my parents would naturally plan for us to go to places when the foot traffic was lightest, the saturation of people was lowest - when it was quietest. Sensory friendly, I guess? And so I never thought twice about it. That was just the way we Did Things. Kind of like how my mom and I covered our heads during church or prayer with scraps of lace, how there was a very specific version of benediction that we preferred, and drinking anything other than powdered milk was incomprehensible. We were encouraged to "mask" in public, and roles and rituals needed to be very strictly observed.

Now, I realize all this was just protective and insulatory. My niece's autism diagnosis was surprisingly well-received by my parents. My mom has said she thinks maybe she's autistic. My dad hasn't really said, but he clearly is - and looking back was prone to meltdowns and shutdowns. At the time I couldn't understand why he didn't just calm down because his behavior was disruptive to the rest of the family. Now I relate. And, I mean, my brother and I melted down then too. But we were encouraged to just ride it out in our rooms alone. And come back when we were ready to mask again.

It's tricky because couldn't that just be...mental illness? Yes. Of course. And...couldn't that just be a personality disorder being passed down from generation to generation? Yes. But I wonder if my niece, diagnosed at 2 years old had really had time to acquire a personality disorder, you know?

At one point soon after starting therapy five or so years ago I walked from my (chaotic) classroom to the (typically orderly) backroom and noticing at the desk I was approaching there was a small mess of some kind next to the keyboard. My eye alighted on the mess and clear as day in my head I heard, "FUCK YOU." And anyway that's sensory overwhelm for you.

The mess, the noise, the lights, the tactile sensation, the needing to keep yourself still - they all say: FUCK. YOU.

Okay. Time to clean up the frat party situation downstairs from last night, go to the trampoline park, and go work a store I never usually do that is my store's arch-nemesis.

Bye! And hey - you're doing a good job. This is HARD, man.

There Are Two Types of Woo and I'm Way More Into the Other Kind

I think we're just going to take the kids "entertaining" each other as an indication that I should take a minute for this nonsense. Right? Right. 

First (of this round) of couples therapy last night; I feel like we have a good therapist. so nervous right before the appointment. Two homework assignments, one more directed at me one more directed at him. There are loads and loads and loads of stuff we didn't get to. But I'm sure, in 18 more sessions, we'll get to them.

Did you know there's a white raven in Anchorage at the moment? You've probably seen the news stories. It's leucitic not albino and that's very rare apparently. Ravens are also not racist at all, it seems like. Which is good. 

Did a Big Organize yesterday in the living room and L's room which somehow took the whole day. Had trouble sleeping last night. Maybe because of the full moon, maybe because I never got around to leaving the house yesterday. Especially in the winter I feel like I need to take a fucking walk, or go somewhere, or get an endorphin once a day. I think of my grandparents and how they went on walks in the evenings. It might just be the nostalgia, but the Back Then seems so much more wholesome.

Crossword puzzles, evening walks, collecting cans and smushing them for recycling. Sitting on the front porch and waving at neighbors. ...but of course - not that simple.

This year I ran out of willpower to exert to get the rest of the family to do anything holiday-related. Or maybe I just listened to them more? But there were no holiday movies. Or, if there were, they typically got shut off by S towards the beginning of the middle.

Christmas itself was nice. I was able to get everything ready for everyone except the Barbie Dreamhouse, which S handled and put together. L didn't make any noises about not getting a Furby for Christmas. The Elf on the Shelf disappeared and my MIL outdid herself with dinner. I almost got to go totally late to Christmas dinner but then that was redirected. Oh well. No Christmas nap for me this year! Maybe next year.

And what will Christmas look like next year? What do I want it to look like?

We're going through all this in large part because I don't want to lose custody of my daughter for half the time. I know the conventional wisdom is not to "stick it out just because of the kids" but to me the kids are the whole point of this relationship.

S was going on a bit last night about how things would be less stressful if we didn't have kids (cap). And I nodded because I'm not interested in setting things on fire right now (or, hopefully, ever) but - we wouldn't be together at all if it weren't for the kids. As far as the boys go I obviously had some stuff to work out regarding my older half-brother and how all that went down. As far as L went, I was dead set on having a child at that point in my life. And if S had really really really not wanted to participate in that we would not be together at all.

Life was not so much better back then. He said he feels like being in a family and having responsibilities made him feel like he had to show up for them/us the implication being that he'd rather his days be free and easy.

Which doesn't sound so great to me. Honestly. And then he went into his bit about how I "have to put myself through things and he wishes I didn't and my decisions affect the family negatively" again. *sigh*

I've been working pretty minimally, but at least 16 hours per week for the most part. Bar is getting faster and it's a nice way to sort of get out and see the world get free coffee and bully myself into some sort of physical movement. Whatever works, I guess.

One of the OT2s is letting me rent most of the textbooks I need for next semester and it looks like I can get most of the rest of them off Chegg so - score! I also need to figure out how many classes I need scrubs for next semester. I found one set at Value Village that kind of match, but I should probably have a "nice" set as well. Hopefully Figs will have some sort of new year sale soon.

Started replaying Pentiment in hour-long-chunks and reading Why Zebras Don't Get Ulcers. New podcast is Go Touch Grass. <3 

Ciao, Bella.

Just Straight-Up Lyrics; and did you know Gag City was a thing? I did not. Sickening.

This year for Christmas
I'm betting on my odds
That I'll be
In a better place before the
Year moves on

And I know
Santa Claus is wondering if
I really got the things I need

This year's been different
Got a new city to call home
Well
I'd like to say I found
My way on my own
But
There's a million pieces here
They fall together where they will

Now I'm
Getting to know the Christmas cheer
So
I'll buy holly by the bundle
And
I'll hang it by the tree
That
I found on a long walk in our new city

And
I'll listen to the carols
But
I don't know the words
So
I'll sway side-by-side and sing
lalalalalala

This

Year

I'm betting on my odds
That I'll be in a better place before the
Year moves on
And
I know
Santa Claus is wonderin' if I really got the things 
I need

This year for Christmas
I'm betting on my odds that
I'll be in a better place before
The year moves on
And I know
Santa Claus
Is wondering if I really got
The things I need.

- Sjowgren

Simpatico

First meltdown of the Christmas season. Not too bad. Still not great.

The challenge is to get the living room put back together by tomorrow night for the grandparents to come over.

There's a secret room in the artery attic. Fun! ...but not to insulate.

I rearranged the office so the boys could both sleep there. Because I had to. It wasn't my job.

Work went better today than it had in a while; throws pink beret in the air; freeze-frame; like Mary Tyler Moore.

Writing assignments:

    - write S back about the textbooks and Venmo her
    - write M back (again) and Venmo her
    - write a treatment for a saucy play based on sitcoms and burlesque
    - write a treatment for a saucy play based on a holiday sleepover. With spies.

Crying and sledding. Cold comfort. Hot chocolate. Feeling barely there. So exhausted. Stop pawing me.

I can't...get it together. Or curate myself enough to have a Christmas present for L's best friend. Even though I have time to! On paper, I do.

How...? From whence, motivation?

Happy Christmas Eve Eve. In the morning everything will be frozen solid. Then we thaw things out and the whole concern is deluged with drippings (Russell, 1947)

where to begin eludes me/ without you here to remind me/ just take the step

Today, on Winter Solstice 2023, the thought came that it is a comfort to know what I want...even if I can't have it. Maybe it's the woo of how my podcast system turned up the past life regression podcast (my stance is: eh. Maybe! Fun to speculate.) and the pagan podcast (there was a lot of stuff about houses and astrology and stuff which I've never been able to follow particularly well. It's the math of metaphysics and *flaps hands at it dismissively*) in succession.

N is with me today and we dropped L off for her last day of school. Cleaned out her cubby and then headed home. He wanted to go to the park. I went along because I feel like even though truancy officers in Anchorage truly either don't exist or don't give a fuck really, it would be better to have an adult there.

Watching the sun rise over snowy mountains on solstice while thinking about the turning of the seasons and him barreling down the hill of snow he made was pretty lovely.

Things are...okayish? I feel like I'm sleepwalking a little. 10 of cups this morning. Today is going to be all right.

I don't feel totally ready for Christmas, but I'll get there probably. 

There's been a lot of DEAL WITH THE UNDERLYING CAUSE messaging lately. Which is good advice generally. But a lot goes into dealing with underlying causes. And I am only good at select parts of that.

There exists a certain feeling in my chest at times (like now) where I feel like I have slipped into an adjacent plane of sensation. Where I can almost touch what I desire (to be seen; loved; heard; regarded; celebrated; the nuts and bolts of those certain things I miss), where it feels to me like if I could just will it a little harder it would happen. Akin to that scene in Toy Story where Buzz Lightyear still thinks he can fly and jumps off the banister. But there is a hand on my shoulder. It brings me back to reality (an often wonderful reality). No, it says.

This is your life. Live it. This is the road. Here. These are the tasks. These are what must be gotten through. And also don't just get through them. Be present. Be mindful that the mundane is the sacred. Do the next right thing, eat the elephant, etc. Acknowledge the feeling.

Which is so helpful, actually! Try it! Are you feeling some type of way? Do you have an inner monologue? Acknowledge the feeling. "I am uncomfortable." "I don't want to do this." "I wish this were different." "I feel nervous!" "I don't want to be here." Whatever it is! There's an instant feeling of relief. I almost promise. Kind of like calling your best friend and venting about something. Do it.

And hey: happy Solstice. The tide of darkness is turning. Cuddle up with someone(s) you love and hav a hot beverage and watch a Hogfather. You've earned it. 💓

Buzz Off Penicillin - Inject Me With JAZZ!

Had my first bottom to top good shift at Starbucks since I rebooted. No muss no fuss felt okay, times were fine made people laugh (my currency)?

Continuing to try self-therapizing through here and voice note app in my car while driving. Because that's basically EMDR, right? The scanning eye movement, the nearly getting into wrecks? Yes?

A lot has changed as far as how Christmas is "supposed" to go. Being a stepparent has changed a lot, too. Eight years ago I would feel obligated to do all the things and haul the boys all the places but as it stands I'm jus like: eh. They want to rest. I need to rest. I already did little holiday things with L. It still feels like the family is a pie chart and one chart is L and me, another slice is L and N, another is S, N & M...hold up. Maybe it's more like a Venn diagram. Maybe this is how all families are, though. 

I notice little flickers of something when plans change or don't involve my input. But I've been consciously letting these go. It's not that I don't matter. And/or maybe I don't, homes! That's okay. I'm here for the pizza and the kids.

Anyway. Christmas crackers: I wish I'd ordered them this year, but also can't seem to muster up fucks to give.

Christmas movies keep getting turned off by S when he gets home. I get it. I can't seem to get muster up the strength of will to make everyone sit and watch a Christmas movie together.

I assume S is waiting for me to ask him what, if anything, he plans to do with the beds in the office at which point he will yell at me or pretend as though he didn't realize it was on him to do anything about it. Will that be the last straw? I don't know.

The problem is that regardless of when or why things reach a breaking point, there has to be a how to coparent afterwards. Things are not working as is so they should work especially not well after. He's just not that sort of person. And I need lots of oversight and possibly medication to be that person.

An episode of Where Should We Begin? (I am not sure I should italicize a podcast name; I am not stopping to look it up) deals with a couple who divorced and are getting along so well under the separation that they are considering getting back together. Most of the details escape me, but at one point I think Ester asks one of them if getting divorced gave them the relationship she'd always hoped they would have. And I truly do think for a lot of women...divorce is the only thing that gets the male half of their particular heterosexual couples to step up and do half of the caregiving. Because it's court-mandated that they do so.

To be clear I do not predict that this is what will happen in my case. I have few predictions around it, but one I see vividly and often is S and M living together in a bachelor pad playing Xbox until 2:00 AM. 

How about you. Where do you see yourself in five years?

Picture-Heavy For No Reason

Photoshop with AI? No. Gross.

It's (SURPRISE!) Snowing Again

Just had a dream (three days ago) I want to hold onto; but it's already slipping away.  Something about understanding the first and last concepts he was talking about but not the middle. Then, just talking. A little edged with awkwardness but almost like old times.

My Christmas Present Would be Sleeping For a Week; Same As It Ever Was

If you keep doing the impossible for people they begin to expect it. 

I wonder if my body still believes I'm pregnant on some level.

"The body keeps the score."

*neuroscientist snorts* "The brain keep the score; the body is the scorecard."

Moving the elf on the shelf around hasn't been nearly as bad as I was expecting.

Nice Lyra therapist surprises.

The vegan-ist lussekatter dough must be made this afternoon for L's school. Or...tomorrow morning? Let's hope some epigenetics kick in. And that some of the Swedish rolled out in the genetic craps table of my being.

3 hours later: S has picked a hole in the downstairs bathroom door. I called in to work 30 minutes before my shift to take her to school because S says that’s not his responsibility. Because I have so much more free time than him and my job doesn’t pay as well. And that my decisions impact our family but his do not.

Imaginary Friends

Let's talk about imaginary friends. Did you have any growing up? Were they humanoid? I should really ask more of the people I see on a daily basis. Anecdotally, most of the children I've taken care of over the years have not. Or at least, if they did, it didn't come up in the 40 hours a week I saw them. 

S says he had one named Dr. Hill but that he didn't perceive him as "real". One kid had an imaginary friend who was tiny and slightly older  than them. Sometimes he'd come to school with the kid and sometimes not. The imaginary friend had a little sister and a dog, I think. This particular kid had a moderate amount of separation anxiety but by far not the most significant amount I've ever seen.

Another kid had an imaginary friend that was a dog, but they were very aware that the dog wasn't real.

I had a pair of imaginary friends when I was toddler-to-preschool age and I think they were adult men named Jerry and Riley. Although I can't quite trust my memory...ever. My mom says when we moved from California to Texas Jerry stayed behind. Maybe Riley did too. When I was younger and more into the occult I wondered if they were house ghosts that just didn't mind hanging out with a little kid.

Point being: I've almost always had imaginary friends. Or voices in my head? Or parts of self that just shunted off far enough to be able to look back at me and offer feedback? 

In one of the books I'm reading, The Leaving Season, the author talks about a situation that resonates with the one I had with T. She has a quasi-romantic correspondence with a man whom she terms her imaginary friend - Heathcliff.  She says he is a real person and someone with whom she had a real relationship but thinks of him now as having been an imaginary friend. Their correspondence ended in much the same way mine did. No resolution no warning. Not to downplay that there are lots of differences too. They dated for about three years. Had a different course generally. But there are enough similarities to warrant the kinship I feel for the situation.

So, did I treat T like an imaginary friend? Was I one for him? I think about the ways in which selves are curated in letters and phone calls. The daily mess of self doesn't have to spill out into the room and torture the correspondents with slaps of inadequacy. 

T didn't have to deal with my chronic messiness, lateness, numb spells, executive dysfunction, impulsiveness, fatigue, meltdowns. At least, not for very long. I didn't have to feel his hurt and anger. At least, not for very long.

The things I thought I was opting out of are still with me. My partner who...well. You know if you've read.

The fucked-up-ness of the power dynamic at play In My Life Today. What was I thinking? How shitty was I for choosing a partner who I thought could never judge me because I...judged them first. 

Girl, I know it fucking hurts you when you feel judged/rejected/inadequate but that's no reason to be the disrespectful to another individual. It's horrifying to me because I don't like to think of myself as someone who looks down on others. But isn't that what I'm doing? What I was doing? 

"I thought this was the one who was supposed to just let you be you." - my mom, helpfully, in a Scottish forest, 2015. 

Me too. But he had other ideas. Best to communicate and get everyone on-board before committing.

But then, commitments happen by default sometimes when you just...don't do anything. Take care of the minutes and the days take care of themselves? Is that a saying?

When I was a teenager and hormones were ganging up on me, my life felt like a c-clamp, my disordered eating was running the show and I remember trying to motivate myself to do something. I don't remember what - just something. And crying in my room. Overwhelmed. Feeling crushed. And a part of self borrowed its skin from a character in I, Claudius: "My name is Scylla and I'm a whore. Everybody's heard about me." For whatever reason, this was calming.

It was kind of a mantra I didn't say aloud. It worked. Until it didn't. 

A small imaginary friend.

I should go. I just wanted to tell you.

And It's Not the Weather; Hand Me My Leather

I'm so glad I don't have to commute long distances anymore. Last night there was a get-together with the women in my cohort in Palmer, which is a good 47 minutes from "the city". Which isn't to denigrate "the city". It's the largest "city" I've ever lived in.

Most of us live in Anchorage but three of us live in The Valley (Palmer, Wasilla) and I explained it to S as: "the alpha lives in Palmer so that's why we're having the party there".

The drive was inky dark and I was tired from...I don't know what exactly. Really the last few days have been lovely. Yoga and chores and catchup on lectures. Dropping L off and picking her up and post-school Activities. When not listening to lectures on spinal cord injuries I've been listening to The Leaving Season which is beautiful and I highly recommend. And shards of McMaster's life seem familiar.

Driving from Muldoon to the highway in S's borrowed truck. The truck reminds me of my old white Ford F-250L. Secure if bulky; like driving a barge. This place seems saturated and I can't really talk to anybody about it. S would probably be the best person to talk to, but: things are still strained. Better, but strained. Drive past the restaurant where he maybe began to see L for the wiggly person she is. Past the bar where the first photo shoot I ever did for the burlesque company was held. I really haven't done for them since then. And that was a decade ago.

Merging onto the highway. Lots of deliveries to Eagle River. Trips to the dump. Trips to the Moving Arts Center for rehearsals. Trips to a house party concert where there was way too much high-school-like drama and I felt energized by the music and imagined a dance and live music collaboration. But all that really happened was whiskey and some paranoia. There are lots of houses on the hill behind Eagle River as you drive north and they look like stars. Beautiful but, much like Hillside, I can imagine how stressful it must be to deal with hills and snow and unmaintained roads up there in the 6-8 months of winter and that's a big no thank you. 

From Eagle River to Mirror Lake. My dad went camping at Mirror Lake for a few weeks in the summer in the early 2000s. We visited on one of their trips up here with Sc back when we were dating. It looks reasonably like a mirror and has a playground, I hear. We should have gone camping here during the Summer instead of at the tents in Palmer. Much more child-friendly less isolating. Maybe next year.

From Mirror Lake to Thunderbird Falls/Eklutna. I like hiking Thunderbird Falls but never seem to make it down the boardwalk that takes us Goddess-knows-where in the rainforest canopy. We always just seem to make it to the falls and back. My first T-bird hike was with E on maternity leave for L. She was strapped in and we made it to the falls and back up a steep incline. (This was back when other women hastened to tell me I was a good mother and offer sage advice because postpartum is the hardest time. And it is incredibly hard and traumatic! And unfortunate that I'm totally incapable of asking for help even in the most of the most extenuating circumstances.) The most recent time was this past summer with L and M comprising the child part of the expedition and me and V the adult part. V said she usually hikes it in the winter when ice and snow make the incline a slick death trap that threatens a quick dump into ravine into rushing river on the left side (up) or right side (down). She said didn't know why she hadn't hiked it in the summer before. Me either.

Eklutna to the Knik Recreation Area. It's so dark. It reminds me of driving in northeast Texas at night but I don't put my brights on because I know it's annoying and moose seem smarter than deer when it comes to crossing roads. I've never seen a deer use a crosswalk, have you? The recreation turnoff is swallowed up in darkness even though there are other cars on the road. My thoughts turn to Israel Keynes and how this (I think) was where he turned off to finally dispose of Samantha Koenig's body the year I moved up here. In the daylight this part of the highway seems exposed, but I can understand how he got away with it now. Maybe the river thrums with a sinister tenor. Maybe not. Alaskan serial killers are a rabbit hole, though. Moving on.

Knik to Wasilla. Trips to T & V's cabin (although we weren't invited this last year - for the first time since we started dating). One trip to S's holiday party. One trip to see Fall foliage on the way to Sheep Creek. Camping; how many times? Trips to Fairbanks. One trip to home show. One trip to the reindeer farm. Two trips to The Butte. One trip to The Igloo for a boys handoff. One trip to the Mat-Su college for a neuroanatomy study group. Just: a lot has happened, dude.

Maybe that's my only point. A lot. Has. Happened.

Maybe it's no wonder I'm tired.

Marked Lack of Compassion

One of the things I truly dislike about myself is the way in which I lack compassion for S. I know it. I'm aware of it. I hate it. But I can't seem to force myself to feel it.

Why?

Is it like one of those jobs that you've just done for so long and there's no infrastructure there for support so you started half-assing it just to get through the days and now even though the customers are complaining about the lackluster customer service you just...can't?

Today I drew The Devil card. Yesterday was The Hanged Man and the day before that 10 of Wands. Better now that over Christmas, I suppose. I've heard The Devil is all about the ways you obstruct yourself. How you're the one in your own way. You're chained down by your own choice and design. Typically there's a depiction of the devil and a man and a woman in manacles but in this particular deck it's a snake. And I think the snake is either the one living in Yggdrasil or one who tempted Eve. But in any case: we're looking at temptation and/or being slowly e't away at. 

Riding In My Fiat. You Really Ought to See It!

 I thought I was supposed to have therapy today through Lyra - like an intake appointment sort of thing as a precursor to couples therapy. But…no? But the therapist does not seem to be a one to answer direct questions via email or offer detailed instructions. So I’m spent my first real day of Winter Break in the following manner leading up to now:

- the usual morning stuff (breakfast, showers, move the elf, make lunch for Leels, etc.); except for that I thought I’d finish Tim Allen’s The Santa Claus before going to school. And it made me realize that Tim Allen has actually had a huge impact on me and I don’t know as that I like that.*

- listening to podcasts I already subscribe to but searching for the word “divorce” and seeing what pops up. Really what I want to know is WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN? That’s the most relevant piece for me as I consider what is and the future, etc. I mean, survival? Sure. But aside from that: how do we do this** with the least negative impact to Leels? And while I’m sure there are better resources to investigate than The Mental Illness Happy Hour Podcast interviewing extremely candid adults about How They Viewed Their Parents’ Divorce and Related Behaviors…uh…there might not be?

- putting the list of books I compiled to read over winter break on hold at the library while watching that one twin flames cult documentary. Monetizing human connection! Huzzah.

- chores while catching up on (a) lectures (no ess actually).

- a yoga class*** with an oddly aggressive instructor.

- picking up car parts finally****. Woo! Then hustling my ass down to the school just in case I did have a telehealth appointment that I’d have to finish directly before picking up Leels…. Which I appear not to. Hm.

- so: journaling.

- oh! I also had a dream last night that I was driving through Mississippi last night for some reason and Leels was staying with family. I was on the highway and I got a text from T saying, “So excited!” Followed by a picture of an airline reservation for August 6th. So that’s where my subconscious is at, apparently.

- my tests went…pretty good? I was super happy about Neuroanatomy and less thrilled with Health Conditions, but ya girl got As and Bs so I will shut my mouth from saying anything but THANK YOU. And possibly: SWISH. Although it wasn’t swish, not at all, I studied my ass off for real.

- and now I get to put the pieces of my house back together and do all the things I’ve been pressing snooze on. 

- speaking of: Tuesday was the most recent eruption and it was about my car and how I don’t take care of it. The premise is fair! But I do not need to get yelled at about it! Or told that I do not listen to anything S says! One or more of my tires was low on air. Winter roads, fluctuating temperatures. Okay. Makes sense. And had been for a while. Not a good look. I agree. My feeling is that being as how I have a job, finals, and am in charge of child stuff generally, grocery shopping and the cleaning that does get done, all type of shit like that will get shunted to the next available slot for maintenance that being today. So Clara, why wouldn’t you just ask your husband for help? Such a good question! 🙋‍♀️ On a fundamental level - I don’t know! On more superficial levels however - because he has a piss-poor attitude about it! And that’s a momism from my mom and no I’m not going to elaborate on that right now.  However it is at such a level that I would rather, yes, take the l than deal with his nonsense about task-asking. *sigh* Anyway I do pretty great at staying calm anymore, but not so great at masking that I’m sooooooooo grateful he took care of it (although of course I am a bit, because ultimately he DID take care of it) because I just don’t have it in me anymore and because he is a hundred percent going to weaponize it sooner or later. It’s not how I perceive my dad taking care of things for my mom (although I’m not positive he didn’t do this too); it’s like a mind game where he does the laundry for two days and all of a sudden starts whining about how he’s DOING IT but HE’S TIRED he WORKS OUTSIDE and has PHYSICALLY DEMANDING JOB and I know how mean it sounds? But it’s been a near-decade of this nonsense. No one has asked you to do shit, my guy. Because why? Because see the weaponization tax. No one hast run out of clothes. ‘‘tis not an emergency. Also, as far as I know, there is no reason for you not to get a different, less physically demanding job.

- oy. The slings and arrows of mundane fortune. 

* I have distinct memories of watching Home Improvement as a child, Jill going back to school, Wilson comparing going to grad school into looking into a microfilm projector for some number of years, watching Jungle 2 Jungle…just: a lot of Tim Allen lives rent-free in my head and I’m not here for it.

** “this” could be a variety of things. But divorce could definitely be one of them! I’m sure not as patient or compassionate as I used to be and arguably I was never much of either so 🤷🏻‍♀️ it’s probably just going to come down to things like safety and stability and the child.

*** I want to shoehorn myself back into my body so I’m trying to do one organized group fitness class a day on my break. We’ll see’s.

**** windshield wiper blade, rear signal lights and jumper cables because: why not. The man helping me was extremely irritated but he appeared to have some resting tremors so I’ll cut him a break. Low dopamine probs.