Thursday, January 30, 2025

Fuck This City - I'm Moving to Saskatchewan

 ...actually not a bad idea, Chappell. Not...not a bad idea at all. 

It's all Project 2025 all the time now. MEGA SIGH. Bad timeline.

L had her last swim lesson tonight. I'll miss the warm balcony and getting to occasionally use the Seawolf gym during her lessons when it was available. I won't miss the bananas-level power struggle that ensued because her idea of a good time was to hang out in the sauna doing god-knows-what afterward. We've got a few weeks of break followed by ice skating again. If she had any interest in skiing she'd have the Alaskan trifecta going on.

Getting through this week by the skin of my teeth. 

I, uh, completely spaced going to the Chinese New Year festival this year. That's how you know it's bad. Emails? I might or might not respond to those. Text you back? It depends. Chinese New Year? Oof.

Anyway. 

Tomorrow: half-day, therapy, shoveling (I guess? That hasn't happened yet.), gym, homework (times a million), 

Tonight: the separation anxiety cat on my lap, Bee and Puppycat, sleeping to dream, telling a tangential manager that I am not available tomorrow thank you for thinking of me. 



Monday, January 27, 2025

Is you is or is you ain't using "apple" metaphorically, Charli?

 Drusilla in Buffy versus Aubrey Plaza in literally everything; I do wonder if Aubrey Plaza secretly (or not-so-secretly) loves Drusilla out of Buffy. It occurred to me that they are very similar archetypes, and even a bit of physical similarity as well.

I told S about the death of Aubrey Plaza's husband and he almost immediately started blaming her for it. Two people we know next to nothing about? Alright.

This morning I woke up with a headache. And I woke up to a blizzard. And last night it was gusty, like what I imagine living on a spooky Stephen King island would be like.

And now it's sunny, the sky a shade of milk overlaid with periwinkle blue. I successfully got L to school and even did a little homework perched at Chickadee Coffee Company. I had coffee with A for the first time ever, which was really nice. I relocated to New Sagaya because I was hungry and got kicked out of Chickadee. They were closing due to road conditions. I ranted in the car driving through a slight snowstorm. About the meeting last night. About how that's not how you manage people (but, of course, you is; one does; management is, inherently, manipulative). Answering questions nobody asked me, etc. It's how I process anymore. To myself. Out loud. In the car.

I tried to go to The Vault where a barista overtly judged my drink choice (a 16 oz. americano with white mocha powder). I felt lied to. Because I thought there was supposed to be a place to study there...with a view of the Chugach? No. Nothing of the sort. And so I felt weird and intrusive going up and down elevators and asking the nice lady who rode it down with me at the last about this and she gave me The Side-Eye. Then I drove to the Loussac, but that was closed. And finally ended up...where I am.

Things feel a little better today. I was stressed out this weekend. I don't think I want to work weekends anymore. But...maybe I will until I quit. S was helping out in the sense that I didn't feel like I needed to overtly find care for the weekends. And he got time with his daughter! Yay! Or...maybe Not-Yay? Because:

If/since he really only wants to spend time with her one weekend a month as per Last Conversation.

This morning we were talking about what would happen if someone cracked their head open (I don't think she has any plans to crack anyone else's head open, but better to be prepared, I guess?) and then the conversation shifted to therapy and she was like, "Well, I do want to go to therapy and talk about my feelings. Because sometimes I feel out of control!" so, add that to the list.

I was thinking she'd probably need OT at some point for school at least (her school seems to neither agree nor disagree which can be maddening at times), but maybe we start with play/talk therapy. Because see paragraph uh...seven, above.

Okay, time to go. After school activities were cancelled for today which I'm puzzled about, but to be fair I chose not to drive home after coffee because oh my goddess so far

And hey: you're doing great, sweetie.

[long, deep, exhale]

Sunday, January 26, 2025

Consider Yourself “Well In”

 One of the things I'm supposed to do this week is examine my roles. I think writing it would be more rewarding, but I misplace papers like nobody's business so this is probably better. And I think I can do it pretty fast (while L is getting dressed for school) so: Update? No, no I can't. Put a pin in those expectations/that discourse/everything. Pin those well up. But I have quite a few roles and I get a little sick of summarizing these. Mom! Daughter! OT student! Employee! Barista! Secretary of that one thing! Friend! Homeowner!, etc. The therapist's point was that sometimes it is time to put some of these roles down. Or acknowledge that sometimes you're sucky at some of these roles and then adjust your performance? We didn't get into finite energy, but that's pretty obvious. 

What if I broke my roles down like with task analysis and assigned an assist level dependent on how much of a percentage of the components I can do myself and how much assistance I need? Verbal assist? Physical assist? Do I need supervision? Who will supervise me? Where will this assistance come from?

IDK where, bro. Actually, it's probably going to be my parents, mostly. But I did finagle a playdate for L with her best friend from birth while I go to the stupid mandatory Siren meeting! I half wanted to be like: how mandatory is? Is it the kind of mandatory where I can bring my kid, because any babysitter I hire will a hundred percent charge more per hour than I am paid to work periodt? But luckily, I am resourceful...

...if mega-shitty at transitions. (How do you like that transition?) Things have been rough emotionally lately, not gonna lie. I am trying to hydrate adequately in order to account for water loss. And it's no excuse for my overall horrible attitude, but it did finally occur to me that one crucial piece of my set of issues that impacts all kinds of things is how much aversion I have to transitions.

The one that recurs the most and crosses me up the most is the morning transition. There are just so many pieces. And by the time I have gotten myself and L ready to go, into the care, through the 20 minute drive to school, and through The Dropoff Part 1 we, then, need to launch into The Dropoff Part 2 which is doing a whiteboard that triggers the fuck out of me at this point. 

Bonus: if we get to school early, I get to be the weirdo who does not say The Pledge of Allegiance during the morning patriot moment even though, yes, I do know it by heart, and doing so evokes memories of staring at a little flag tacked up on recently mudded wall in a newly constructed addition of the house that smelled a little like sawdust. L has been doing a great job at doing her transitional "chores" in the morning, actually, but when it comes to doing the whiteboard it is still a clusterfuck. And the room is crowded and noisy and the lights, they are overhead and fluorescent. And girl - I, myself, am pretty dysregulated in this environment. And girl - I have a whole backlog of previous experiences in which I hiss and argue and threaten and cajole this kid to try to do the damn things that she's supposed to do that I'm supposed to do with her it's the whole point of the school philosophy. But guess what? She and I also both know that it's incredibly hard and awful for us to try to do these perfectly fine things together. 

LAnd then, sometimes, I get caught up in the mental narrative of all the ways in which I fear she is unseen and unsupported when, in fact, she is probably seen and supported more than I know. She’s so freaking happy there. And last night she let slip that her teacher has, indeed, asked whether I live with her dad. Which is a good question, teacher! Good. Question.

Ah well. I’m supposed to visit with MY dad today after they get back from church and various other errands/chores/homeworks. 

STILL haven’t found my Wolfcard, and need to fold Mount Laundry tonight; that’ll probably be a job for wine and I, Claudius later tonight. 

Consider this entry complete. CONSIDER IT!

Thursday, January 23, 2025

Haikus b/c I misplaced my wolf card

Eventually you

Have to open your mail, boss

Bad news travels slow


Oh. Wes Anderson

You like him? Me too. I’m on

The spectrum too. What?


Grownups slicing through

Water like splashy fish I

Think maybe someday 


A good death a bad 

One. Is this what emo

Kids do? Work hospice?


Wednesday, January 22, 2025

har ar det

I am preparing myself to have a meltdown because the logistics for this "service learning experience" are fucked. Our lab instructor did not attend the first session or offer any actionable insight to us, the students, or apparently to the center director (although she's a bit of an unreliable narrator if experience serves me right, so - who knows there!) and much of the observation we did was useless for the actual camps we're supposed to implement. And the time of day is a little bit fucked because it means we might be stuck with a classroom that's a) outside b) trying to have circle time or c) trying to get ready for outside or d) doing laundry and/or e) the lead teacher isn't there which is always a little squicky from the educators' perspectives. We aren't really being given guidance as far as how many kids/the vibe/what to do exactly and although I can and probably will call or message them directly once we figure out who's doing which class I want to fucking scream because why is this like this?

Thank you for holding space for my meltdown. I would rant more, but I cannot at this time.

One of my main takeaways from Neuro-occupation lecture so far is that the brain needs chaos to thrive, so at least I have that going for me.

Besos.

Tuesday, January 21, 2025

Stop the world. Just stop it.

 Guess what I've googled so far today:

    - "Does expired escitalopram still work?" (no, bestie)

I've already ugly-cried today. And felt incredibly guilty over getting snippy with a random eight-year-old. I know better than that. I could justify it by saying I felt protective of my kid (and, yeah, I did) but also - unnecessary, Clara. What the fuck. I'm not even sure if she knew what happened, but she grasped enough to stop interrupting my trying desperately to get L to do the morning board and left us the hell alone. In as far as I have a plan (and I don't have much of one), I guess it's to apologize to the kid this afternoon. *sigh* 

Moving forward (although maybe I shouldn't) with mocha vanilla amaretto latte with three shots of espresso from the coffee hut by my house and this with Murder She Wrote on in the background. My cat doesn't care, because I fed her. My daughter just knows that something's off with me. And I feel shitty about that too. I'm supposed to be steady for her. 

I miss my old therapist. 

I wish the world weren't falling apart quite as much as it is.

I need to be a better parent.

I wish I could move on gracefully; why does it always have to be traumatic?

Maybe I should just move in with my parents.

I need to get it together to interview people in a few hours.

I need to get it together to go by the troopers and fill out a form.

I need to do all the things I meant to do yesterday.

I need to pack up.

I need to do laundry.

I need to breathe.

I need community and instead I feel (mostly) judged (not by everyone, but - you know; it's the RSD).

I'm struck today with terror for the future rather than the cautious optimism I have been feeling - and I know it's mainly a combination of hormones and circumstance, but it still. Fucking. Sucks.

All right. That's enough. Time to be more like Jessica.



Sunday, January 19, 2025

You musn't let a little thing like "little" stop you

Cringe away, but I'm comforted by musicals at the moment.

Courtesy of Matilda

"Just because you find that life's not fair, it / doesn't mean that you just have to grin and bear it / if you always take it on the chin and wear it nothing will change.

Just because I find myself in this story / it doesn't mean that everything is written for me. / If I think the ending is fixed already / I might as well be saying / I think that it's okay.

And that's not right / And if it's not right / I've got to put it right" 

...and Into the Woods, naturally. Although I don't have any lyrics ready to go. Except, maybe, "When going to hide know how to get there. / And how to get back. / And eat first." which speaks to my epigenetics, I bet.

Just got through telling L "Bad news doesn't age well" and then paraphrased what that meant and I'm pretty sure she understood none of it, but also - maybe it'll lodge itself in her brain and she'll be able to access it later.

There's this dynamic that keeps recurring and it's not the best, and it perhaps explains a little bit about how I got to where I am with S. I've been thinking about it this week. Things feel far away and not so bad and not so immediately emergent right now...because he's not here. He's in Seward. It's been seven days since he's been home. Therefore, things are...fine. So I have the habit of being lulled into feeling like maybe I'm overreacting and things aren't so bad, etc. Or, at least, like I don't have to do anything because there is no immediate emergency.

However, I have four pieces of homework this week related to all this (not even homework homework) and I'm chipping away at it even though it feels squicky. I was listening to a podcast while supervising a play session outside at the church parking lot with L and her neighbor friend and it seemed pretty legit. They mentioned repetitive neural connections driving a lot of this nonsense (heck yeah it does), it being the listener's job to build boundaries and enforce them (which makes me want to vomit, but...yeah), and directly addressing the thought that if I just do the right thing long enough everything will finally be okay...but that in actuality, the listener will never be able to defend themselves adequately or change the other person's narrative in which they are a terrible person. And I guess that's the root of it for me. I can't change that narrative. I am not a villain, per se, but I stopped trying to "outperform" the criticism years ago. But in any case, a couple of the pieces of homework I still feel concerned about because I don't feel prepared enough.

"You'll never feel prepared enough, Clara." you say. "You don't typically feel prepared at all. For, uh, anything." And while that's not cute at my age, it is true

All right. Time to complete the Fine Motor Kit that's not a kit at all but a protocol? I know professors think they're so cool being vague with assignment guideline because ThAt'S hOw It Is In ReAl LiFe. Well, I come to this program from real life and I'm familiar - it's not all that great! So how about we just have clear expectations somewhere/anywhere. That being said, yes. I know it's pronounced "If you're so fucking perfect do it yourself." Besos, love, and appreciation, but Jesus. This peds class is not starting out great, I gotta say.







Friday, January 17, 2025

An example if you will (or you won't)

 - "A child with autism refuses to eat anything except Malt-O-Meal" ...'praps it elicits a sense of danger? Maybe?

- "A woman with a history of trauma develops postpartum psychosis after the birth of her first child?" ...why would she not?

- I don't know if you need to know this, but sometimes you just have to free-sing an Ani DiFranco-style song you've just made up quietly to yourself while driving home from swim lessons. It's quite helpful at times. And it's okay to not remember any details of the song after arriving home. I hope.

Monday, January 13, 2025

In Da Clerb We All Stan

 Anchorage is not built for wind. My favorite picture that popped up on the Anchorage subreddit was of a canoe wrapped around some sort of sign or pole. I don't mind it, but then to be fair we haven't suffered as much damage as most people. And/or my dad has made it his business to batten things down with adequately attached tarps at the start of the season (winter). 

In any case school is cancelled for today. L is watching Nastya (ew) and eating Bluey-themed cereal for breakfast. The overnight hotel/pool party was a success as far as my anxiety-marinated heart can tell. The hardest part was FaceTiming her in the morning only to tell her, again, that no she couldn't fucking go in the pool with no lifeguard I'm not putting that on the mom supervising the whole concern and listen, this is what you fucking agreed to last night when you had a meltdown about the possibility of leaving because of this very potential issue next morning. I know, I know. She can't really project herself into the future and figure out "Hm. I might be sadder in the morning if I can't do this thing I really want to do!" And there's no way in hell she'd be able to comprehend that I just don't want her to fucking die, alright?  Why do you have to be such a downer all the time, mom? Cue the Conspiracy Theory Charlie meme. That's why, kid.

S came home for the weekend and left again this morning even though the pass to Seward is probably impassable no matter what the highway reports say. I guess we'll find out tonight? Things are...weird and indefinite. I haven't been able to initiate conversations and he hasn't so I guess we'll reconvene next weekend and see What's Up. This means I didn't actually accomplish my homework for therapy this week, but grief is a nonlinear process no matter what [checks notes] Kubler-Ross says. 

School is back in session for me, so I have my Legend Planner out and am starting to plug in due dates. Fewer group assignments this semester - thank the Christ child - but that one professor hasn't gotten back to me on WHEN ARE WE FUCKING GOING TO MY OLD WORK I NEED TO REQUEST TIME OFF AND OH MY GOD so hopefully it's nothing too wacky or I will have to quite The Siren early and I'll be honest - that's most of my socialization these days.

Otherwise, I realized last night that I'm probably feeling flat and sad in part because I realize it's hard for me to connect to my...self? If that makes sense? I'm having to reorganize my relationship to shit I've held as my identity for a long time and gently pressure myself into this sorting process that's a bit tedious. And then often I'm a bit sad because, why doesn't x make me feel...anything much anymore (looking at you, burlesque costumes)? Why can't I articulate to my Russian Orthodox SIL what my hobbies are? Not just because some of them are NSFW but because I do I actually derive joy from any of them anymore? 

Anyway, that's probably the deal with 38 and grad school burnout and being a parent. But if and when I ask my eventual PCP questions it's going to go: perimenopause where are we at on that? Skin tags - don't love them. Should I be concerned about diabetes? Dopamine reuptake inhibitors perhaps? And then probably the usual other cancerous stuff that we all gotta go through. Why are you writing this down? Because otherwise I will forget, fam. The search function is a beautiful thing.

Also, I got to get told by an optometrist in sriracha socks that I have pigment dispersion syndrome so watch out for rising eye pressure! Guess what's pretty good for that? Caffeine. Guess that's not going anywhere anytime soon!

Saturday, January 11, 2025

Late Afternoon Light Draping Across the Landscape Like Honey? Close Enough.

  • Things are mostly alright right now, but following The Events of the Past Few Weeks my system is a little wack. (I think that's the clinical term.) So, once again, lists it is.
  • I don't know who needs to hear this, but I give you permission to check your most comforting dopamine-inducing childhood books from the public library and let the nostalgia and affection wash over and through you. For me, specifically, this includes the works of Kevyn Aucoin. In which I am transfixed by feminine beauty and the power of makeup.
     


  • Things are not working out between myself and my lower back. The slipperiness of the ice combined with age and my general inclination to not take care of the damn thing with heat pads, K-tape and biofreeze have resulted in lots of wincing, muttering, and bending over ever-so-slowly to do damn near anything (especially at work).
  • I learned today that one of my coworkers went to a local Waldorf-based school and had very little good to say about it. This, in a way, makes me feel better because I have a tendency to wonder about the "what-ifs" related to L's educational decisions. They said that the overall tenor of the school made it such that the kids got very good at getting away with bullshit. Fantastic. Probably not what the original Waldorfs were going for. Never got a chance to ask about eurythmics. They didn't seem to know what I was talking about when I asked about the first-graders trying to poison someone...or care? Anyway. GOOD AND BAD ARE CONTAINED IN THE FABRIC OF ALL THINGS IS MY TAKEAWAY I GUESS.
  • I don't know why exactly, but my system just wants to curl up in a ball and pretend to have the flu. There's a spectrum of this. At the most severe I would probably be listening to the orchestral arrangement of The Eternal by Scandinavian persons while walking through a winter forest imagining pulling a VVitch. At the least I would be thousand-yard staring at nothing in particular while thinking "What the fuck" repeatedly a la a 90s production of Little Dorrit.
  • Now to go see if L can reasonably spend the night in a hotel with he little besties for a birthday party. Bouuuuuuugie bougie bougie. 

Thursday, January 9, 2025

It’s Unfortunate…

 …that I cannot google “what would a normal human do in x situation?” That would be quite helpful at times.

Even Data had Captain Picard. 

At swimming again (we’re doing it until I’m confident L will not drown in most reasonable situations and she just got bumped up a level so - we’re closer). There’s just enough fluorescent lighting and noise and echo that I feel really squirrelly. 

L accidentally left her most prized stuffy at B’s house. We searched high and low and the house has three levels so we did our best but were unable to find Mrs. Monkey-Chawksps (?) and had to leave in order to do things like pick up my parents from the airport. I hope they find her and bring her to school soon. I don’t know how to phrase, “I know we said it was cool but actually it might not be cool? Can we search your mansion for a well-worn pink/purple/blue monkey? That’s all we want to do - I swear. We’re not casing the joint she’s just very attached!” 

Further complicated by not knowing the person very well and not getting the best read on them. It’s probably mostly me. It’s one of those situations where I feel like that Jenny Slade bit where she enters a room and drops a mic down her pants to demonstrate how much dignity her name DOESN’T command. Not all situations are like that l. But this one is.

Hm. That reminds me that I’ve never seen Marcel the Shell With Shoes On the Movie. 

Today I’ve been sending all the emails I meant to send out over the break but didn’t. Bit like shouting into the void, really. But I’m sure it’ll pick back up on Monday.

One of the nifty things about not actively working on assignments during swim lessons includes getting to notice all the fun swimmer hyper mobility types. Your scapulae probably SHOULDN’T be that lax, gang! Put that antecubital fossa back where it belongs! Low-impact sport my ass. Wink.

I have an idea for an Easter-themed burlesque show that I keep forgetting to share with the class and it is: Tease It to Jesus. Maybe this will help me remember.

I hope this helps!

Yours, etc.

Wednesday, January 8, 2025

If Christmas Is Over, Why Is Candy Cane Lane Still Stuck In My Head?

I'm doing the thing I have to do where I wake up slightly before 6:00 AM to sign up for summer camp. It opens at 6:00 and fills up within 5 minutes so I gotta. It's giving apex predator. The camp was originally going to move the time to 5:30 PM but nobody liked that very much. No, they said. That's inconvenient. So here we all are. Moms in Anchorage.

Update: fucking did the thing! I only signed her up for one week; I'm not one to fly too close to the sun. One week of camp with historical bestie 1 (V), one week of camp with historical bestie 2 (A) and then Horse Camp (assuming grandparents are onboard for taking her/picking her up from that one; it's a bit of a schlep, if still within city limits). Note to self: sort out insurance biz for horse camp (if that happens) since you won't be able to work at Starbucks for that period of time.

S finally made it to Seward ice notwithstanding. So, that's good! He's cocooned in masculine energy (roofing crew) and his best friend. I think that's good. We called him last night.

It was nice to have a chill day yesterday, because today we're not entirely all back on our bullshit - but it's sure a lot closer:

  • the adrenaline rush of registering for summer camp first thing in the morning
  • eye appointments for both of us this morning (I finally get contacts back! I get to see! Huzzah!)
  • school drop-off for L; she gets to go in late as a result of Eye Stuff which is pretty much rock star status in 1st grade
  • work for me (I have been tasked with getting a "warm drink" [even though L does not actually like these I think she asks just to be polite] and two cake pops. One for her and one for the gentleman below.)
  • picking L up from a playdate with B at his house
  • clean out the car?
  • a light dinner; maybe we take something over to her grandparents' house? They haven't seen her in a minute
  • going to the gym (she wants to go to child watch; they do a pretty decent job and I only ever work out for 30 minutes at a stretch these days so...eh!)
  • picking up my parents from the airport
So. While I'm still waking up, let's talk about first-grade crushes. My first-grade crush was on a kid I eventually went to college with. I did not, however, really even exchange two sentences with this dude while at college. I think some of the bloom was off the rose by then and five-year-old me might have been objectifying him a bit. I was all about The Little Mermaid and redheads at the time and this guy had red hair. Probably still does, but we're all getting older so who knows? I'm also fairly certain I just started calling him my boyfriend without ever having had a conversation with him about it (consent! Consent is key!) so I probably just prattled on about how cute he was to my mom, aunts and grandma, had a few playdates where I watched him move green army guys around (scintillating) and then the family moved to Jackson. Mischief managed!

Well, B is one of L's crushes and certainly the one I consider the origin of the most "classic crush" types of behavior and statements from her. And it's kind of funny how the brain gets dopamine from that, you know? But anyway, his mom seems hyper-on board for it and has been nothing but kind and I privately think of her as a "happenin' lady". She keeps trying to set up playdates when I'm on a plane! At work! At lab!, etc. And so she suggested that the au pair (whatever you're thinking - probably, yes) pick them both up from school since I'm working until 4:00 and have a playdate.

This was extremely sick (positive usage), because I didn't want to ask my in-laws to shoulder too many pick-ups this week and felt kind of between a rock and a hard place with work - because as great as my manager is I know she's got limits and it is an evil corporation at the end of the day no matter how many benefits they offer. So hopefully that'll all work out well. I have a bunch of anxiety about it, naturally, but it'll probably be fine. And probably the worst that'll happen is B being exasperated because L doesn't want to play with the 2025 equivalent of green army guys.

Ah, l'amour

Okay. Pitter-patter, let's get at 'er.  

Tuesday, January 7, 2025

Ice Ice Baby

 Sorry. I had to. It's...icy. It went and got too warm this January and now the city is glazed over. I almost couldn't get in my driveway! I had to cling to the side of the curb like a limpet, wait for all the cars to pass (and there are a lot - I live on a main-ish road) and then back up and scooch ever-so-slowly up to the church parking lot across the street. Then wait for my opportunity to turn left! Inch toward my driveway! Turn right! And gun it up the iced-over driveway. Alaska this is bogus. Alaska, this is also better than shoveling half my life away and I guess I'll shut it 'cause that could still happen.

So. Remember all that stuff I wrote about last time? Yes? S spent the evening mulling only to decide that he does not, in fact, think we should separate and Things Were Said. I believe there are two possibilities (okay - more than two, but my brain is pretty black-and-white so): a) discussing separation repeatedly is a tactic to get desired behavior from me. I'm not entirely against this but have spent the last ten years trying to figure out what that behavior might be and there are no Ws in this chat if you know what I mean? So...no? b) changing his mind over the separation might be his way of stalling for when he's more ready. Because - I'll be honest - I have not changed my mind. 

I'm taking this as more time to prepare for when things get extremely cows and barns swirling around in tornadoes. I'm also trying to keep in mind the last phrase I got struck between the eyes with at the end of a yoga class (aka the most vulnerable time in a white millennial woman's day):

"There is the abuse of forcing change on someone who isn't ready to receive it."

Usually they go on about letting the soft animal of your body love what it loves (Oliver, 1986) or seeing the dual nature of light and dark in all things and beings and breath unlocking your parasympathetic response (always good) and that's all well and good. But this seemed a bit pointed and a bit relevant and a bit indicatory that I might need to be okay with ambiguity (oh, great, this again /s) in this situation. And by this situation I mean my life.

Sunday, January 5, 2025

We're baaaaaaaaaaack

And boy is it cold. In more ways than one.

I'm in the office as I write this. The boys are gone. A smattering of legos and toiletries that were originally bundled in their Christmas stockings remain. A silver ring my dad made for M embossed with his name,

I feel decimated. I'm not sure the mood tracking app on my phone is going to like that. Did you mean: devastated? No. I didn't.

I asked S if he wanted to have The Talk that he spoke about before we left. Long story short it did not go the way he wanted it to go or thought it would go. I did not, in fact, go to Texas and then come back refreshed and ready for round however many of this cycle we're caught in. I felt okay in Texas - and even for 2/3 of the legs of the trip (which is pretty good considering I don't travel all that well and L is 6.5 years old). I felt like separation does need to happen. That we can't keep hurting each other. That we can't keep doing this. 

Some key takeaways that made me barfy: he would like to see his daughter only every other weekend; I. Cannot. Imagine. Choosing that. My partner saying, "What would you like? Wouldn't you like to see her more frequently?" And - no. Every other weekend. Why? Because he wants to interact with me as little as possible.

This is where I take off my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose and grimace a bit because this is this man building the same narrative he built around his ex-wife. And this is where I panic a bit too, because I am highly concerned about L's relationship with him and L's relationship with her grandparents. They speak of the ex-wife as a horrendous person. And you know what? Probably not! So, will I fare any better? Probably not!

I want her to have a solid relationship with her grandparents. I want her to have a solid relationship with her dad. I do not want either of us to be on the receiving end of this nonsense where I'm always the bad guy and she's second fiddle to her brothers. They should all be exactly the same fiddle. The same fiddle!

And I just.... Sigh. I am the bad guy, you know? In several senses I am. And then I get told that I don't take responsibility for the things I do that make S sad and - look. I'm pretty fucking sure that I mess up. I'm also pretty sure that at this point in the relationship I'm not going to be able to feel safe again due to numerous and consistently occurring previous events. And here we are in a vicious cycle. I can't even get into all of it. It makes me tired and I've been crying and the sun is setting because it's *checks watch* 4:00 PM.

Point being: S is going to Seward (maybe) for a week or two. It was supposed to be tomorrow, but that got pushed back due to weather. And I'm sitting here journaling because I would like to think it helps.

Take each breath at a time, my mom/teacher inner voice says. He's right. You fucked everything up. What are we going to do?, my teen inner voice says. He's...not right. You're not a person to him. You're a character in a movie. Or a play. I'm sorry you couldn't make this work, but - babe. Could anyone? It's okay. It's going to be okay, my middle-aged self, maybe? Whoever it is they're pretty nice. 

Okay. Be good to yourself and keep it clean, marine (no, I don't know if that's a real saying). 

Wednesday, January 1, 2025

In Which Crawdads Can Be Fished For Using Lunchmeat

We stayed at my brother's last night for New Year's Eve. We subjected them to watching Matilda, the 90s flick that seriously holds up. The musical version is...just okay? I appreciate the aesthetics and the costuming. I'm totally here for any costuming choice in which the cleavage moves but the bodice doesn't - do you know what I mean? But L really seems to like it. It's joined the pantheon of movie rotation with Leo, The Mitchells versus the Machines, and Barbie.

Visiting my brother has begun to make me feel like the Secular Aunt. Two of my nieces have very firmly decided that they want to ride in the rental Jeep with me whenever we go somewhere as a group. This works out great for L because she loves riding in other peoples' vehicles. But there we are. Windows down on the farm-to-market roads with Black Pink, CHIHIRO, toy box and, on occasion, more sanitized versions of Chappell Roan blaring with my two little Russian Orthodox nieces in the back thinkin' 'bout life. Well, somebody's got to do it.

One of the things I meant to do over vacation was message my aunts for advice about divorce. In all my solitary car rants (highly recommend if your child's not in the car) I keep saying to myself that I just don't know anybody who's gotten divorced! Oh no! But actually, this isn't true. My brain is just on a track that I need to jump in order to get anything new done. Blah. Fine, brain. I guess this is just my note to self to Get That Done.

Otherwise, list for today:

  • Nail salon (my daughter is That Girl)
  • Eiffel Tower (you gotta)
  • Lunch with my parents
  • Paris Coffee Company (just because)
  • Tha Store (for dinner stuff, caffeine)
  • The Cigar Bar (apparently there is one? Apparently more than one?)
  • s'mores with cousins
  • pass out and get up at 4:30 in the morning LOL

Okay, have the best day you can! It's sunny and nobody's ingested anything poisonous yet, so I'm going to call that a win.