The Guv'ment Allegedly Doesn't Want Us Grinding Our Own Wheat, I Guess?

Bit of a dichotomy really; I feel a lot better than I did (thanks, Seabands, Miralax, and V8!) and I still feel Not Great. 

I find myself being jealous of S's current...idk...fitness journey? I felt like I was starting to get into a good rhythm with working out, feeling stronger, using the sauna etc. etc. and now, of course, I don't have the energy and often feel too sick to do it. I'm currently aiming for ~30 minutes every other day. That seems to be going okay so far. Maybe we add more back in this coming week.

Told K about the pregnancy last week and we texted back and forth about it a little bit. It went about how I thought it would. Just okay! Congratulations, and an undertone of "are you sure this is what you want?" which - no. I would go so far as to say I'm sure I don't. But things are okay enough as far as I know that I don't feel there's a reason to terminate. I don't think I'd be able to handle the guilt from that, honestly.

And - that's it. I haven't really told anyone else. I don't really want to? I don't want to fuck with all the Events that come with childbirth in 'murica and most of my friends/acquaintances are in different times of their lives when it comes to this. Of the 4-ish couples that come to mind, one pair is having grandchildren, one pair is consciously childfree (they like children, just don't want to bring any into the world in Trump's America), one pair is in the 8-11 year-old territory and doing shit like buying fancy campers and planning family trips and considering buying a cabin, and one has three kids but are in their late-40s early-50s. So I guess if my mother feels like doing it for me - great! But if not, Target is amazing about delivering things like diapers and carseats to your doorstep.

Saw the Gabby's Dollhouse Movie and it was purrr-etty great. I'm glad they got Kristen Wiig for it and I'm glad they're addressing the unavoidable thematic element of Gabby growing up. I'm glad I got to cry through much of it because this is, apparently, what I do in movie theaters now. 

L (7) today, "I wish you could never die." Thanks, kid. Don't worry, she also does the regular kid stuff like yell and be grouchy. But it's nice and I want to remember it, because time moves so damn fast.

An upside of parenthood is that I do believe it's brought me more joy than most of the rest of my life. Not in the moment usually (there are studies corroborating this I believe), but there are moments of pure joy that my emo neurodivergent self wasn't, apparently, capable of accessing without her kid(s). 

Like, I wasn't happier necessarily going to see a movie by myself (or even with friends) than I am seeing a movie with a kid and being privy to their unfiltered joy. I wasn't happier necessarily, going to the rock gym with my guy friend and then getting beers afterward whenever I wanted to (outside of work and rehearsal, obvi) than I am now. And maybe medication has something to do with it? But also, maybe it's the kid.

I also think teaching preschool and now getting to OT kids is pretty therapeutic for me. Not necessarily therapeutic but fun: one of the aforementioned kids is, for most if not all intents and purposes, basically Sheldon from Big Bang Theory. Did you know that was a thing that could happen? I did not! Wild. Thrilling, really!

Hey guess what: one option for treating ADHD that I was not aware of previous to starting this rotation is guanfacine; evidently it works by decreasing heart rate and relaxing blood vessels. Usually I feel like it's stimulant this, stimulant that so it's an intriguing option as we get closer to the point where L will likely need medication because: society.

What Doesn't Kill You Has a Variable Effect

I do kind of remember the sensations from last time; to sum up: a flu. Or COVID? Not the strain where you throw up repeatedly, more the one where you sleep a lot (or wish you could), and may barf at any time. What do you want to eat? Do you want to eat? Is what you think you want to eat nutritionally dense enough to fuck with given the metabolic needs of *gestures broadly*? Also, it feels like you have a low-grade fever at all times. Maybe you do! Who the fuck knows.

L has been very helpful and understanding. This morning she made me some tea and decided my forehead needed a wet compress because it was "burning up". She also said that she doesn't remember anything from babyhood but, "I know one thing: babies come out whether they're ready or not".

This rotation has been pretty chill so far. I keep running into people that L knows that I know she knows, and it's a little bit of a bummer to not be able to say "Hey, I saw into Kid X today!" I don't think it violates HIPAA to put it here, though? Might get redacted. We'll see.

There are some diagnoses (and ages) that I'm not as confident on and my CI is very nice, but I have been a combination of too nauseous to ask good questions and kind of settling into thinking of interventions to try out with the kids, and he's so chill he doesn't always volunteer information between patients and they are, as I thought, back-to-back-to-back which means that there's no time to talk in-between patients. I think it'll be okay, though. Probably? I should get some level of energy around Thanksgiving. So maybe the last two weeks of fieldwork will be Gucci. I sure hope so - because I have some sort of project to do (?).

I feel like I should say something about the news, because that's been filling the spare corners of my brain; I don't have very many of those, though. For example, I deadass forgot I had a haircut scheduled for last Saturday despite several reminders and writing it in two places. What triggered the reminder? Driving past the hairdresser's former house. 

Many people have said it. But they're right. This is how it begins - fascism. It's actually far past begun. We're pretty far down the path. So. So, so, so. So. Colbert. Kimmel. Eventually all news outlets? I know the aim is to make The Left despair (and don't worry - I do!), and to keep on keeping on and believe that we can make a difference with protests and grassroots political action. And I definitely do hope that! Sincerely. And I think I see the setup because, yes, I come from Christian Nationalist roots and those peeps play the long game. There's a reason the vice president is so young. There are reasons why Congress and the Senate are behaving so spinelessly (I don't know what they are, but I'm sure they're mega-shitty). There is an ocean of justification available to people who believe they are doing the Lord's work. But I don't need to tell you that.

Dreams: I dreamt that I had a toddler and he was throwing my makeup brushes away; I was at my therapist's and trying to express my frustration with the situation. She said it was my fault and got irritated at me for getting frustrated. I dreamt that there was a reunion at Belhaven; I was sitting at a long table next to someone I went to school with who IRL is or was in politics (and no, I did and do not much care for this person). I gradually realized everyone who was seated at the table was a theater person and that this was the theatre department reunion. I was having a good-enough time, but realized I wanted to get to the dance department reunion. I left the room and started making my way through an abstracted version of the commons. I found the voice department (not a thing), and passed by engineering and computer sciences. I made it outside and started walking across campus towards the arts building. It was so dark I couldn't see anymore and made it as far as an open window covered in cobwebs. I was meant to climb through it, but couldn't. I realized that I could just go back to where I parked and drive around to the arts building, but didn't want to backtrack. Then I woke up. 

Meat Might Be Murder, but Not the Fun Kind (e.g., Knives Out, etc.)

Okay. Whew. Time moves relentlessly forward. I'm still processing. And aren't we all, always? But I'm slowly getting there. Where? Wherever three steps ahead is.

I started my second-to-last fieldwork yesterday; so far so good! It's fine! It's nice, actually. I like the Doing What I'm Meant to be Doing as a Distraction from the Other Things. Which, arguably I'm also meant to be doing, but also? Maybe not! Maybe all is choice and distraction! That's right - all!

I suppose I should write a little bit about Charlie Kirk. I think it's pretty obvious what my reaction is/should be, though. My main thought is: "They finally got their martyr." My other main thought is: "What about Melissa Hortman and her husband?" With my third being: "What about the school shooting that occurred the same day?" Oh, and I guess, with a dash of: "What about this alleged lynching at Delta State University?" 

I was telling S about that last one and he said, "It says it was suicide." Oh. Are we just trusting the Mississippi police force now? The lynching part is alleged; but the timing is fucking weird, so is the location, and that track record is, if not the worst, up there, man.

</conspiracy theories>

I am nauseous a lot. I am tired a lot. I am still working out because it is something I was already doing and I don't really want to stop (mentally filed under d for distraction) and I have a hard line about doing one thing per day chores-wise; I've been trying to have consistent and clear conversations with S about the fact that he's likely gonna need to help me if he wants anything additional done, because now we are definitely In It and not necessarily to win it.

He says he understands how I feel; and I think he believes that. But it is not really possible for him to, in the same way that I don't understand how he feels regarding addiction, and being separated from two of his children the vast majority of the year, etc. Things are overall better, but the upshot of one of our last conversations on the topic of Why Are You (me) So Feelings At This Time? was that I need to find someone to talk to. Yes! Probably. But I am systemically reluctant to tell people about this pregnancy. So far I have told the bare minimum number of people that need to know. Not because I'm concerned about miscarriage per se, but because I don't have the bandwidth for all that.

I also feel some shame about it, because it doesn't really make sense to trust that someone else will tke care of the fertility problem for me; yes, it sucks that assurances were not kept, but ultimately that's just information. If I want to not have further children, then I need to do it for myself.

I wish at this point in my life my underlying lifelong sense that I need to Do Shit For Myself and Be Independent would have been assuaged, but I made choices that shunted me in the opposite direction. 

Alright, I have to hop on a phone call in which I probably divulge information that doesn't support an ICAP case for a client I saw as a student, but okay, Alaska.

Besos.

Well, Fuck.

I just need to process. I didn't have this on my bingo card for this year, and I'm super-sad. Surprised. And lowkey angry at S. Since I gave birth 7 years ago, he's been supposed to get a vasectomy. As recently as March he's said he wants to do it and would do it (soon!). 

Well, guess what? He didn't. And I'm pregnant. I woke up at 3:00 AM this morning feeling as though something was amiss. I'm only a few days past when I should have menstruated, but that test is still positive.

So. Now what?

S: "What do you want to do?"

"Why the fuck is this all on me?" is my deep-down question. And I'm the worst at answering that question. What do I want to do? I want to live deliciously and be left the fuck alone, honestly. I do not want to be pregnant, but I do not want to terminate a pregnancy. 

Can we afford another kid? In this economy? Probably not. But - everything's fucked, really. 

Do I want to go through labor again? Absolutely not. Do I want to go through postpartum again? Again, no. And you can pry my meds from my cold, dead hands. (It appears as though there is some risk of congenital heart defects from bupropion), but that these are not well-substantiated and there haven't been human trials for obvious reasons.

S just...wasn't great during postpartum. Who's to say this time will be any different? Less than six months ago I was regretting having the first child with him, honestly. 

Both our parents are significantly older and won't be able to help out/have relationship with this kid relative to what L has/had.

And...I love L. I truly can't imagine life with two kids (or more, I guess; the older you get the more likely it is to drop multiple eggs in one go). It's really hard to explain. I know that once the kid comes, then life rearranges itself and things are challenging (and traumatic to be so real) but fine, but...I don't feel like I'm the best parent on earth right now. And I don't think adding another child to the mix will make things easier. It just won't!

But I don't think I can terminate a life just because it's inconvenient for me. Blame the early conditioning. Some things are hard to shake. I think I could if there was medical complexity that we thought would make them incompatible with life. 

*sigh*

I hate being in this position. 

And, too, there's a sense of: well. That seems about right. That's how it goes. Surprise babies happen right about...here in life.

I don't have a sense of joy. Just sadness. I can't imagine being heavily pregnant and at API. Jesus. 

Right now it's just: cry once a day and breathe and try to act "normal" despite not wanting to do literally anything (and I don't).

What else has been going on, you might ask?

School's been going better for L. She's also slightly more willing to read aloud to me which had been great. The cat continues to stay in one location on the couch (unless she needs food). 

I haven't been as motivated to cook (shocking!), but I'm going to try (I think) to make Campfire Chicken tonight. I think that means you just wrap the chicken bits in foil and bake it in the oven with various veggies. I think it's the dishes and touching varied textures that truly gives me the ick.

Oh, and I just got back from a dentist appointment at which I felt kinda overall shitty because most of the information I got about my cleaning I gleaned from reading the chart over my dental hygienist's shoulder. They are getting overall more concerned about my teeth grinding and asked about a mouthguard, suggesting I wear one during "the more stressful periods of my life" (hah). I almost started to get into it with them about how I sometimes deal with it with K-Tape, but one (younger, I think?) ambivalent doctor started monologuing about how he wasn't sure if I should or shouldn't get a filling and ended up deciding yes (I think?) but didn't really communicate this well and my poor hygienist was like, "Do you understand? Do you have any questions?" with the mien that she thought I had had a good talking to and should be ashamed of the state of my teeth - and maybe I should be!

I just typed a whole defensive-type paragraph out and then deleted it. Fine. I'll take accountability. But things are probably not going to radically improve because life is about to get a whole lot more stressful. So maybe save the Come to Jesus for someone whose heart is open. Because that ain't me, babe.

Okay. The only things I can really do this morning are chores, get ready to volunteer for boxing, and maybe mosey on over to tell my mom about The Situation if she happens to get home from her bible study before the boxing thing.

The one friend who I have (directly) told is pretty stoked - in part because she's an OB/GYN and that's kind of her wheelhouse. But then she doesn't really know what's been going on the past year+ with myself and S, either. So there's that. 

I think I can tolerate telling one person a day. I know the chance of miscarriage is high due to my age, etc. But I kind of think that won't happen. We'll see I guess. I've tried to prepare L for the eventuality.

Okay, bye. Enjoy the warmth and sunshine if you have it! Lord knows there's none here.

In Sync

Recovering from a burlesque show is a little like recovering from the flu; a small flu, but it still requires rest. One still feels as though hit by a bus. And the day after one (I) feel a bit better.

It went well! I didn't get injured! Those were the main things. Phenomenal crowd! As far as I know, there hasn't been any emotional fallout from S (he came to the show and supported, and brought a friend who is pretty protective of him in relationship to our issues) which I also take as a win. The entire time I thought I must be missing something...forgetting something...something was going to go wrong.... But actually, I didn't forget anything except to put my mic pack in my wig instead of putting it on my corset and I didn't beat myself up about it either. Enormous win for bupropion!

I've started listening to Untangled by Lisa Damour because I assume that hormones are due to hit anytime between next May and...the end of time. And I also assume that there are some unhealed parts (arrested development, maybe) that could benefit from some self-parenting. So far there have been some tears. I do want to steer away from enmeshment as best I can. And do want to enjoy healthy mother-daughter closeness until it becomes time for distance to develop. So.

Otherwise, I don't feel much like doing anything. I am! I'm doing the gross paperwork and booking the hotel in Omaha for if/when I graduate, and doing the dishes and folding the laundry and headed out to volunteer at the Parkinson's "boxing" class this afternoon. The quotes are because I don't think the person teaching it is planning on it being very structured. At least, as per what they said the last time I saw them.

Okay. Time to find and/or generate motivation.

Glitter? Check.

Things grow to occupy the available space. They just do. I'm off work/school, sure, but my house isn't immaculate (yet); how much caffeine would it take to get it spotless and keep it spotless? More than I have the capacity to ingest. Probably.

With no notice that I specifically recall getting (but - who knows? The emails, they crash like waves and it becomes increasingly hard to differentiate between or comprehend them.) the student insurance is no longer covering dependents and I missed the window to continue L's health benefits from Starbucks with COBRA so here the fuck we are, I guess. I hopped my geriatric ass on the healthcare.gov portal and filled it out until we got to the part where I need S's income information. Mine's pretty easy: I do not currently make money and do not, currently, anticipate making any more in 2025. There! Done. *sigh* I do understand that there are some drawbacks to universal healthcare, but really? Lol, not to the extent that makes me not want it.

Right now I'm post-drop-off (it's been going better; but three negative-ish things happened during drop-off and then I felt like a monster), post-trip to the University library for printing, post-hot yoga class (good, but I felt even more monster-ish because I didn't know how or where to sign up and wasn't technically on the waitlist and other people were, but everyone made it into class anyway so it was fine), post-finishing dishes for the morning, post-starting laundry, post-making the list of ingredients I need to make potato lasagna tonight, post-plugging in the schedule I just got from my CI, and post-tech rehearsal for this one show I'm in this weekend. 

It felt so nice to be home again, in the burlesque space. I feel lucky to still be "allowed" to perform and do what the fuck ever I want on stage! And I am lucky all of the time. But it doesn't always feel like it, you know?

I was behind a woman with a shirt that said "Child of God" on the back and referenced a psalm (unclear on which one; my dyscalculia makes it difficult to retain numbers and number orders). It reminded me of that one time I went to Sedona and got a 90 second reading from someone who said they talked to...fairies? I have no further intel on the what and why of all that, but she did say that they wanted to reassure me that I am a child of God. That makes sense, retroactively, in a way; I've always had lots of anxiety around the concept of predestination (which I was raised with) and fear of powerlessness and pain and going to hell. Maybe it was just a little: "Shush. Do your best. You're okay. Just do your best."

And I'm trying to do my best. Even if my best is not all that great. 

Mess

Seeing the future's not all it's cracked up to be
Because I can't tell you what's going to happen
Only freak you out by pushing you out of the way
Of an oncoming train
That you can't see

I can't tell you much, really, except "I love you"