Oh, I remember now: at some point S said that his intent with all this (business with K) was to introduce me to her at a music show I agreed to go to pre-open marriage-gate (OMG) and maybe I would think she was awesome! Maybe we would hit it off! And then, maybe he could be like, "Hey what about we have an open relationship and I [blank...this wasn't clear, but I assume would escalate to sex] with this lady!"
The. Fucking. Audacity.
I can't focus. Or parent mindfully. This is stupid.
🤮
I feel the type of sick I did when Sc did this same thing. Actually, this is a step beyond what Sc did. As far as I know R was unaware that Sc was...uh...in limerence with her and downloading pictures of her from the internet. I can only imagine what's going on with that now that AI is widespread.
Nope, this was (is?) direct contact. And (and!)* at a time when we're supposed to be rebuilding our relationship (and a window of time in which I was** slowly starting to feel some sexual desire and security) he comes at me with this. And and and there was either some premeditation (at least some) or a total lack of judgement. Bestie, one day last week after work he took our daughter to see the band K is in play at the museum because he was "meeting a friend there"*** to see music. After starting to get explicitly flirty with K on Facebook and Instagram.
A particularly bad fight we had this morning escalated because S started getting verbally aggressive with me after I accidentally sighed in bed this morning when reexamining the texts. I know, I know, I shouldn't have. But. It's like a scab. We (I) pick at it. When I realized he took our daughter to meet K (basically), I needed to take some time to calm down. And my intention was to express to him that he was no longer welcome to take L or H anywhere by himself unless I was going too.
That probably wouldn't have helped any, I suppose.
Look, I get he feels like it's fun to get flirted with. I understand in a...distant way. Because flirting, to me has always felt confusing and icky****. So, yes, I can see how you would like that. I can also see how this would have gone had it continued.
And I'm not so sure I shouldn't have let it continue. Should I have just been like: "Ok, have fun with your new girlfriend work construction for the rest of your life supervised visitation only see you never thanks for doing all this >6 weeks postpartum?"
But fuck. We have kids. We have brought another human into all of this. So counseling it is. I'm sure I'll have more thought later, but I have that sick feeling (see above) and have to get ready to go pickup our child from music camp. I did decline S staying home again from work today to "give me sleep"***** so in a sense I asked for the responsibility. Which is fine. But still. Even in these trying times one must shower. And clean newbork poop.
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
*Can't you just hear the inflection?
**again
***Which he very well might have been doing as well.
****I tend to be very direct if I like someone. Praps 'tis the 'tism.
*****It sure as hell didn't work that way yesterday.
I had a feeling so I went through S's phone this morning. Well, just the most recent text thread, really. He'd been texting with someone he used to know from when he played music, and seemed to be enjoying it (laughing to himself while cooking in the kitchen; no crime there). Last night, around 8:45 PM he started talking in a way that led me to believe he was working towards opening our relationship. I was right. I don't want to do that. We ended up talking/arguing until midnight. I specifically asked him if he had a crush on anyone and was this why he was talking about this now? Lots of tears. Him angry. Me angry. We reached a point of exhaustion and settled down for the night. He spooned me, it actually felt okay. Nice even!
I still didn't feel okay. Still shaky. Still sick. I got three hours of sleep and called it at 4:00 AM. I slowly fed H and decided to drive to Eagle River for coffee. Beautiful day, sunshine, mountains, mist on the river, etc.
I got back. L got up. S got up and seemed okay. He rousted N out of bed (he arrived yesterday) and started cooking some eggs. He checked his phone a few times and seemed to be texting someone, and laughing. I asked what was funny?
"I'm texting someone."
More laughter. Voice-to-text "Puerto Ricans". Again, what was funny?
"Oh, I'm texting K. We're talking about how she doesn't date white guys."
Okay. He's talked about K before. Someone from when he played music years ago.
S takes N and H on a walk through the neighborhood so I can...study I guess? But I don't (I'm having trouble with that lately due to being a fucking emotional mess).
I just...have a feeling. So I pick up his phone. I know the passcode, he knows mine. It's not a secret. Last night at 6:twenty something - almost 1.5 ass hours before he attempted to have a conversation with me he told K that we were "moving toward opening the relationship" and in previous texts they talked about having crushes (at least, him on her) way back when, and he asked "Are we flirting?"
Now in the conversation last night I made it painfully clear (Many, many repetitions) That I do not want an open relationship. I can barely handle the one I’m in, and we are so shaky right now and have so much goddamn trouble communicating that incorporating other people would be a war crime. To be clear, I’m not against Polyamory writ Large, it’s just not something I want to explore at this time. And I especially do not want to be having this conversation five weeks postpartum thanks. (Although, to be fair, I was the one who asked S If he was heading towards asking about opening the marriage during the conversation, but it’s a good thing I did. Because, see above.)
Now, nowhere in the conversation that S had with K this morning mentioned that he talked to me and that actually, no, we’re not opening the marriage. This morning, specifically there were just some low-key, pretty harmless, but still flirtatious texts about how she doesn’t date white men. It’s important to note at this point that S is not a white man.
So, for that reason, shaking with anger, I texted her back a quick note about how I was S’s wife, and that no, as a matter of fact, I’m not comfortable with opening the marriage. And that we talked about it last night, and that he only brought it up after he talked to her about it. She was basically like, OK thanks. Sorry! And I signed off with something about trust being broken, hope she understands and take care, and she reciprocated that.
When S and N got back from the walk with H I was livid, still shaking, and we immediately went upstairs to argue some more. I don’t know, man. It took a direct verbal prompting for him to apologize for it and, like 45 minutes of talking for him to at all, admit that he saw how I could have an issue with it. Which, to be clear was the timing, explicitly telling me the night before that he did not have a crush on anyone, and this, evidently not being true, and him not prioritizing telling her that our marriage wasn’t open first thing in the morning instead going on to flirt with her.
We talked about a lot of the same old things. But one kind of new thing we talked about was what it is. He likes/loves about me. Because I hear that he loves me Often, but it sure doesn’t feel like it. And, I mean, he said the same about me. So I’m sure that’s a factor. But what was interesting was that when he listed off what he loves about me they were all things that I either do for him, or sex basically. I asked if you liked my personality, and He started to explain in detail. I cut him off, though, maybe I shouldn’t have, and asked for a yes or no. And he said no. And… That tracks.
And most of our “discussions“ it tends to come back to what I’m doing wrong, what I want to take responsibility for, and the ways in which he’s right and I’m wrong. And maybe that’s pretty common for most fights. But I somehow don’t think so. I don’t want to throw the N-word around, but it does kind of feel like either. He’s a narcissist or he fucking hates me. And just wants to be around because he’s benefiting from me.
So, Clara, why are you still here with this man? Because I have a fucking five week old. And I just want him to fix the damage he’s done. And…maybe that’s a lost cause.
Formatting is shite because this is mostly voice to text
I can’t integrate all this I feel sick. I feel like I’m drowning. No matter how much I talk about with S I don’t know that I’m ever really going to feel okay. No apologies. No let’s do this together. Painful.
Comfort films, 90s edition: George of the Jungle, Crocodile Dundee, A River Runs Through It, Free Willy, Shipwrecked. ...none of these pass the Bechdel test, I'm pretty sure. Upon further examination, the first two do, but the second two do not. The last one hasn’t been listed yet. Guess I’ll have to watch it.
The sass is the same as it ever was from Clarissa Explains It All to any YouTube vlogger ever.
Titrating down the pain meds. Took my last ibuprofen today.
Powders everywhere; 'tis the orthorexia, I fear. Our countertops are covered in protein powders and baby formula. There is much talk of “gains” and measuring of biceps. Blah.
Thrush feels like fiberglass. Cute name for a not-so-cute problem.
L unexpectedly got the opportunity to go to music camp next week because we ran into B and her dad at the park recently. This is the man S decided was a threat of some sort. Well, he’s been doing better (ish) with that lately, so I decided to act normal (ish) because I want L to have a friend in the neighborhood consarnit. Long story short, L’s going to camp and hopefully playdates will ensue and also hopefully S can take her to those playdates and get off my case about it.
Renaissance Faire tomorrow with an emphasis on pirates.
Good things to watch at 2:00 AM when you're sleeping in 1.5-3 hour chunks on the couch with your newborn, an incomplete list: The Decameron, How to Get to Heaven from Belfast and Jeopardy (needs no introduction), and I now suspect that I only like media incorporating Saoirse-Monica Jackson in some capacity. For that reason, Derry Girls is next on my list.
The last few days have been rife with playdates and sunshine. Two playdates yesterday both of which involved lots of splashing in creeks but somehow zero leech encounters. It's been climbing to the 80s which is pretty hot for Alaska, and I've been hanging out with awesome people this week. It is helping me feel better. I do feel better. It's still hard for me to identify how I feel, what I think, and how to communicate that to brand new people, especially when tired with a newborn strapped on trying to halfway supervise my 8-year-old.
I've been studying as much as I can, but it's tricky. To get enough sleep for bare-minimum focusing and still do what needs to be done (dishes, shopping, socialization, going outside). I hope beyond hope I can pull this off.
Today is better. I’ve only had 3 hours of sleep in the last 24 hours. But today is better.
- Time means nothing. There is only sleep in 2-3 hour chunks, tracking feedings over 2-3 hour periods, and up to 800 mg of pain meds (combination Tylenol and ibuprofen) every 6 hours-ish. And studying in there somewhere. The OT Miri youtube channel is GOATed for a reason!
- Did you know that body chills are somewhat normal when breastfeeding? I guess they're some sort of cue to feed the baby now. Bit of a carrot and stick situation with that. The body chills being the stick, and the carrot being oxytocin released when breastfeeding (see below). The...pain when breastfeeding being some sort of injury sustained by the mule, perhaps? Will have to workshop that.
- There have been moments in which I have had glimpses of why I thought it could work with S in the first place. Nothing specific or solid, though. And I must remind myself that, due to breastfeeding and being postpartum, I have more oxytocin in my system than normal, which may be a factor.
- Marijuana is proving to be not-so-different than alcohol in some ways. There's just the more-ish ness of it. It permeates every waking moment. It's...not recreational, it seems. Just the water in which S swims.
- This water has resulted in some interesting situations. For instance, S walked over to my parents' house with H to show off the baby I suppose, and L and I stayed at home because: tired, and not necessarily feeling it. I have certainly gone to his parents house without him many times, it only seems fair that the emotional labor cut both ways sometimes. He left altered and returned altered having committed to going to church with my parents on June 7th. But I do not have to come! (he says) But it would be cool if I did - that's what Unitarians do! And we're Unitarian - aren't we? (he adds) I'm fairly certain that I didn't hear jack shit about evangelizing or going to other peoples' churches; "ministering" to those of other sects is largely a Christian Classic Flavor thing. I am very much not going to go, but have said I will probably judge it on the vibes the day of. Why? Because I'm relatively certain I will either have to deal with the fallout of some sort of spat involving one of the following: "You're not/never supportive of X/me/your parents/your family!" or "Why did you even come if you're going to have such a shitty attitude about it?" or "If you really felt this strongly about not going, why didn't you tell me?" Choose my poison, I guess.
- The night before last J, one of S's newish friends, came over to hang because they'd just been through a breakup and S is hyper-focused on being there for his friends. I like J, we seem to have a fair amount in common, they are very kind, and warm and I'm glad S is connecting with new people. However, I noticed when S was chatting with J about...us...that we just have very different narratives. I am glad that S believes that communication is in a good place and that he feels comfortable talking to me about most things and that we accept each others' neurodiversity. I didn't feel like I could really participate in that conversation, though, because I just...don't feel the same? And that's not a conversation I was about to have on a Saturday night before trying to take my pre-night shift nap with a newish friend in the house in front of our daughter. So I just didn't say anything.
- The day before yesterday, as riffing about not having had to take oxycodone even once as recovering from this C-section, even though they gave me five just in case. S said that he'd taken two without telling me for various body pain issues and that he would understand if I hid it because he should have asked me before taking it. I don't care about him taking them. I do care about him not asking/telling me. I don't feel the need to hide them, because if I needed to take them I probably would have taken them by now, no? Plus the meds transfer to milk and newborns don't really need opioids in their systems. They just don't. But I do feel icky about it, because that's alarming behavior generally. I thought about just taking it to a med disposal box at a pharmacy. I might just leave it out. I don't know. We'll see how the spirit moves me on Monday*.
*Update: the above was written on Sunday and Monday morning I found another missing with no notice. So I guess I'm one hundred percent just taking it to the med disposal box at the pharmacy. It sorted itself out! And now I feel much worse. Blerg.
- Recently (since Omaha-gate) I've felt the need to pretend to S that I will think about certain things for a period of time before making a decision about said things with the innate knowledge that I’m not really going to change my mind. Is this lying? Yes, I think so. It is also a bit of a choice between the "You're not even going to consider an alternative way/thing/perspective?" fight and the "You're disrespecting me by not choosing what I want you to choose!" fight. And it is, in a sense, hitting snooze on all that. Ahem. What’s the appropriate period of time to do this? A day? A week? Unclear. Does this make me a bad person? Probably! And there is so much evidence to substantiate that that I don't really feel that much shame about heaping one more thing onto the pile.
- Conversely, there are things I don’t seem to be able to make up my mind about and no amount of time seems to resolve this. Typically this involves things like where to eat, whether L can spend the night at her grandparents' house (I...guess?), and what to watch on the telly. But sometimes high stakes things like answering the question, "What setting do you want to work in?" Um...I like it all, bestie, just not all simultaneously.
- How infuriating must it be to have had When Your Mind's Made Up written about you? I would be livid. Just because I know what I want, Swell Season. High key negging energy.
- Sometimes one does a Kagi search to see if The Weakerthans are touring (they aren't) and discover that The Mountain Goats are, and that they're playing a show in Portland the month of your birthday for less than one million dollars and also that they're co-headlining with The Hold Steady (pretty decent band) and you think to yourself: I'm turning 40. Why not? Because money is tight is why not. But...just maybe? I will.
L officially finished the school year as of yesterday. It culminated in a massive picnic and kids running amok in a small wooded area adjacent to the school garden and outdoor amphitheater. It also culminated in her (sort of) doing a research project, kicking and screaming the whole time. Hyperbole? Maybe. But were there tears? Definitely. Mostly hers. Some takeaways from the whole star-crossed affair:
Anyway. Since we've been back, H has failed to regain back to her birthweight which has been the cause of some anxiety. I'm not against supplementing with formula (so we have been) it's more of a dammit I guess we should have been doing that all along and tick tock on the clock motherfucker development is developing and now we have to play catchup.
The longer I'm alive the more astonishing I find it that humans survived at all. Wasn't FASD just...rampant? Didn't people die in childbirth like...almost all the time? How the hell were kids getting all the nutrients they need (they probably weren't tbh)? Plus all the evil true crime and billionaire cabal shit that was and is happening. Christ. <thousand yard stare>
Okay, bye!
I looked like hot trash, but I did it. I hadn't had proper sleep in probably 2 weeks, and forgot to bring the one makeup item that could have made me look half-alive, but I did it. H was as jet lagged as an infant can be, but she did amazing during the ceremony and flights and ig infant headphones really do help for equalizing ear pressure on flights. Plus: nursing helps.
My parents got a bunch of congratulations from family members (I guess that’s how this whole thing works?).
We had dinner at Tupelo Honey; I tried shakshouka for the first time. 10/10: love.
Inasmuch as I’m even in this dimension considering jet lag and sleep deprivation, I do love Omaha. People are…Midwest nice? They’re having an actual Spring? It’s green not muddy and eldritch - which, I DO love muddy and eldritch, but it’s nice to have a change of pace every once in a while. Turn of the century houses? Got ‘em. Every other house looks like the pink palace in Coraline (the movie). I mean, not in the suburbs obviously. YOU know.
The Airbnb I’m currently staying at is tonally the same as staying at my Grandma’s house in the 90s up to and including this one poem.
Otherwise, it’s been both nice and not so having my parents chauffeur me around. They are proud and help how they can. But they are not kid people and babies are not intuitive for them. They are more likely to stand and stare while I wrangle the baby and the equipment than the average bear, although this is getting better with repetition and over time. Almost every statement spoken is bookended by a derisive laugh. Is it because of discomfort? Actual disdain?
It makes me self-conscious. I don't particularly like who I am at times; I am so very scared that I come off like they do. This is nothing new.
The extraction happened. Everything…happens. Will happen. Happening. Happened.
Did you know that untreated hypothyroidism can = psychosis? It can! Fun!
The sleep deprivation is starting to catch up with me as is the physical pain associated with breastfeeding. I'm given to understand things like: "breastfeeding isn't supposed to be painful" and "fed is best". However, I breastfed L for...what...like four goddamn years? It eventually started feeling a little bit better, but, especially at the beginning, it fucking hurts. For at least a month. Significantly more than my incision hurts. And I investigated it to hell and back with L and the only conclusions we (myself and the lactation consultants) really came to were that:
a) her mouth is small (fair)
b) my nipples are big (not necessarily something anyone cares to now, but in this context - relevant)
c) L has something called a bubble palate which isn't something anyone can do anything about and just sucks. There are, evidently, some techniques to try so I'll look into that - especially over the next few days because I will be in airports where there will be little else to look into. Or around OTs who might
have Opinions about lactation. Not as many Opinions as SLPs might have, but still - more than zero.
d) It will, eventually, resolve as her mouth gets bigger.
But none of that helps at the moment, in which I am sad and in pain and ibuprofen and Tylenol only go so far, really. And I don't particularly want to use the five oxycodone that were dispensed to me for pain emergencies. Not yet.
S has been watching H for a couple of hours at night while I sleep (and fielding her in other less formal ways when he's home) which has been helpful. Her little but has not been sleeping during the night very well. I assume part of this is that the environment is maybe too chill? She sleeps pretty well during the day with background noise and lights but turn off those lights and put on some white noise and it's party time, baby. There's also the bit where she's not gaining weight and, in fact, losing weight at a rate that nobody likes which might be due to the aforementioned bubble palate. In any case, she's under strict feed at least every two hours protocol which isn't doing much for my sleep, personally.
Otherwise, there was a moderate-sized kerfuffle around her heart function which has resolved. There's a foramen that hadn't closed and now has closed and some oxygen saturation concerns which are no more.
We're leaving on a plane this afternoon after a mental health telehealth appointment and I haven't really decided how I'm doing or how to articulate this to my NP. Am I coping well? ...no? I am postpartum? That is a circle of hell fo' sho'. Do I want additional medication for that? ...I don't know? There are some very real issues that I need to deal with and SSRIs tend to make me a little more passive which I'm not sure is needed at the moment. But, then, if I'm too overwhelmed I'm also passive. Six seven. There will be the conversation about the psychology practice I received a referral to and then never heard back from again. How have things been going? Not so bad, not so good. Yes, I would like to continue the Welly B, please.
I am anxious about taking my newborn on a plane, but am hopeful it will go well. I'm mostly worried about her ears and my ability to cope with her crying. Three hours of sleep is not how I wanted to go into this, and the card I pulled today was The Devil which is a bit on the nose, thanks tarot deck. With that being said, I have headphones that are supposed to equalize ear pressure, although I fear it to be quackery. I have a carrier which I'm going to use almost the entire time, and it place her in a good position to try allegedly less painful nursing latches. So. We should get in at midnight and then maybe sleep a bit, and then it's Go Time. And there are a bazillion variables that I am not looking forward to dealing with when we get there - mostly related to things like: can I wear her the whole time? Do I really have to carry all the shit in a Ziploc bag? How long is this all going to take?, Where the hell is the parking lot?, etc.
S has been *sigh* in a sort of...idk...Russian mystic headspace lately. Definitely lighting his candles in a daze, as it were. This has involved continuing to go to AA meetings a lot, hanging out with his friends and AA support system, and smoking MJ vapes and/or capsules. Like, all day. This is concerning* for reasons which I believe to be obvious, especially in my current anxious state. But if they're not obvious, hey! Check out the footnote.
S also seems to believe as per a conversation with me last night that it is somehow possible for him to leave town to work for a month at a time while also being the stay-at-home parent?** He was venting about work drama (and in construction work drama is pretty...uh...dynamic. There's a very real possibility someone is going to get physically fucked-up.) and then how he approached his boss about it and then that he told his boss he'd be available for intermittent contract work (cool), and that he really didn't want to work in town anymore (what), but that he didn't want to leave town either (uh...), but he would for like a month here and there to earn some extra money for us (I beg your finest pardon?). I shut that down to the best of my ability, but it probably didn't come off as the most therapist-y. When I asked who was going to watch the baby while he was out of town he said, "We'll figure it out." How so? "Well...our parents." Our elderly parents one of whom has ALS and all of whom who would be remotely interested in infant care are over the age of 70? No. No we will not. "Maybe a babysitter." For 40+ hours a week? At the inside that would run us $880 a week. Times 4 weeks on average that's $3520 per month which is assuming we'd be able to find someone who wants to just work sometimes and has crazy open availability and guess who's not gonna do that? Gen Z (because they have self-respect) and/or anyone who's responsible and qualified. Respectfully. Then later that night he was like, "Maybe we get an au pair lol." I...I am just baffled.
Sorry, it's just that: if that's the way it's going to be she already has a spot at one of the best childcare centers in town which we got by some goddamn miracle, so maybe we just take the L and turn it into a W and just pay the $2000 a month so he can continue working I guess? Which is what I thought he didn't want? I'm so confused.
If anyone knows anything about anything, let me know.
Oh, and he's getting into the arts now, which is lovely and I'm happy for him, but it also makes me a little bit sad and annoyed because I am in the newborn forest which is, again, hell and I can't know how to hear about Butoh right now, S, or take you by the heart and take you by the hand and explain it to you. First of all, that's not how it works, and second the girl who got extremely excited about Butoh is if not dead, then, in deep hibernation. I mean, I can point you in some directions and I know some people but as far as me, myself getting Into It - no. Not right now.
Okay, I have more head stuff to get out, including how I feel like L is doing and how I just can't let go of the notion of feeling unsupported (but likely am supported, just not in the ways on which I'm hyper-focused), but I need to finish packing, drink some more caffeine, and shower before The Voyage. Wish me luck. Ima need it. And the capacity to directly ask my parents for help, because they are not the type of people to explicitly recognize or offer it - which makes my personal nonsense make so much sense if you think about it!
Ciao.
*We have a set of couple friends who like to talk about being "California sober" although they themselves are not exactly sober at all, but are more the mixing fancy cocktails based on Fallout or from a steampunk cocktail book - you know the vibe. V, the wifey of the couple, listens politely when I briefly freak out about the cannabis use, and speaks about her recreational activities of using gummies to sleep. And, bestie, I am not criticizing your use of cannabis. I am more so concerned that the father of my children, someone who has certainly spoken about having heard voices before and who does frequently come at me with paranoia, and who has up until very recently been very much all-in on taking over more childcare duties including staying home with the kids when I get a big kid job is high literally all day and that when I came home from the hospital my house smelled like a casino but like in the early 2000s because goddess forbid you smoke/vape outside with an infant in the house. ...I am not concerned about the gummies. Okay, as you were.
**??????????
A lot of different feelings are sloshing around my insides. My brain. My body. This extraction eve.
I am tired of the questions. How are you feeling*? Sad. Tired but my body and brain won't let me really rest. Angry. Somewhat hopeful. Not excited. Not joyous. Not happy. Aren't you excited to hold your baby in your arms? Yes. And I know it will be hard. And I'm going to miss the one-on-one time with L something fierce.
What with S being out of town for the past two weeks and in and out of the house frequently since he got back into town (I personally saw him for a total of about 2 nonconsecutive hours yesterday) I hadn't brought up the fact that, yes, I was still planning on going to Omaha. He took it better than expected - however, he's not going. Oh, and he doesn't want L to go either.
I'm pretty fucking sad about this because Jesus fucking Christ. I don't often have strong feelings about Doing Things (at least, I don't think so) so when I do it's fucking important to me. And I've been talking about this for ages as a family vacation! So fun! We're going to stay at a hotel and go do fun big city things and the zoo and as of last night (less than 48 hours prior to surgery) all of that has been completely recalibrated. And I don't think she's realized the changes, because we're supposed to tell her together and tonight she's spending the night at a friend's house to celebrate their birthday.
I guess I'm also pissed because last night was the last opportunity we had to spend together as a family before H is born and S was so upset about the news that I wasn't planning on just not going to graduation because he didn't want to/didn't want me to, that he decided to go to an extra meeting at night that he wasn't going to stay late at but did and so wasn't home until after 9:00 PM.
Just...fuck. I am still going. I am keeping it together-ish. I am crying periodically, but have done all the stupid last-minute coordination shit for a third time. My parents are coming in clutch and have agreed to drive me since among the things you're not supposed to do after a c-section is drive a car.
I did ask K to come with me if possible (realizing that it's not very possible because people of a certain age have lives and children and shit like that) and she couldn't. And then very reasonably asked if I was sure I wanted to do this which made me irrationally angry because this is another conversation I just keep having over and over again Groundhog Day style and after a certain point it feels like (isn't - but feels like) very few people in my life currently believe I have thought about it and am sure and what the fuck do you hear when I say x activity or thing is important to me? That one song from The Muppets? Christ.
So anyway. To summarize. My parents: saving the day. S: somehow truly believes this is a an example of me not "respecting him" because I want to...do a thing? That is probably not aces, but not totally unreasonable? L: oblivious, but having a difficult year what with all the unpleasant surprises. Which, yes, she got to go to Disneyland, but only after her dad pushed it back by five months. I'm sad for her. No fucking summer camp. No trip to Omaha. And, as of today, because I put S on the spot to plan and execute her birthday party no party like the one she was envisioning. I would be livid.** I: am sad and angry and not surprised and feeling unsupported because of this backlog of S just not supporting much of what I want to do. He's supported some stuff...but reluctantly, honestly, and it has been just like pulling fingernails to do get him at all onboard to with things like buying a house, going to grad school, getting a vasectomy, getting a job where he does not work out of town and, now going to graduation as some sort of final gesture of support after 3+ years of not being very supportive with this at all.
*sigh* In other news, I finally made a C-Section playlist. Here it is.
Okay, that's all. Tomorrow: Star Wars day and the extraction. I'm not ready. It's going to go great.
*Because this is typically (but not always!) in reference to the pregnancy/imminent delivery, not any other part of life.
**But, then, I am still upset about that one time we were supposed to go to a convention in Mississippi with my dad but then didn't for some reason and I had this whole plan where I was going to wear some fancy white shoes and go swimming in a swimming pool and wow the difficulty with change and rigidity of thinking? Those roots run deep.
I don't know what to write, but feel like I should.
I had a request to do a session on anger management by one of two people who come to my community group, but it sounds like perhaps, in their case, the anger is justified? I understand you can't haul off and go punching people, but as of a few days ago it sounds like people at the place they're living are physically harming them and stealing their shit. And, of course, they can't just go live somewhere else. That's not how America works. *sigh* So: it feels dumb. Why talk about conflict resolution when the real solution (in my heart of hearts at least) is get the fuck out of there? I mean there probably is some point. Deescalation, etc. But fuck, man. You know? Yes.
Stress results in weird dreams. I'm surprised to say last night's stress dream involved fouettés. Fun how no matter how long it's been since I've taken a ballet class...stress about fouettés? Is eternal.
This game is pretty great, if you ever get the chance to play it. File under: things that shouldn't work, but do.
Someone I used to work with once said they don't believe ghosts can hurt living people because there are still white people alive in the South. I think about that every so often.
It's been pretty quiet this past week. More YouTube than usual, but at least, I suppose, I'm monitoring it while working on homework in the living room and having conversations about what's happening in the videos every now and again. Granted, those are somewhat limited in subject matter, but it's not rampantly unmonitored as it is at my MIL's house.
Speaking of: right before we went swimming yesterday at the Good Pool, my MIL texted S and myself to say that she doesn't want us using her middle name as one of the fetus' middle names. Instead, she would like us to use her first name. First of all: no harm in shooting your shot, but that's not really your choice, bestie (lol). Second: her first name is now mainstream culture/Gen Z/Gen Alpha slang for things that are kind of...meh. So no - no thank you. Third: hormones aren't helping with my unprocessed anger around, like, everything so while I didn't directly respond at all my first impulse was to say, "I'm sorry you've had that experience with your middle name, but I happen to like it a lot - it was even in the running for first name at one time! If you're truly uncomfortable with us using your middle name for fetus, then I'd be willing to pivot to FIL's mother's first name instead. Let me know!"
Anyway, S handled it and appropriately, so I'm pretty happy with the outcome. My catastrophizing drama queen brain had at one point spiraled to if I get any type of pushback whatsoever I'm changing the whole damn name. Because why? See: unprocessed anger. Mostly related to the audacity (MIL) and S being gone up until the day before delivery and doing the equivalent of signing me up for shit I did not agree to explicitly (which are good things and somewhat thoughtful! Except for that I am not fucking managing figuring out childcare and hanging out with people I don't know that are more his friends from AA anyway and just - bestie I am tired and I am trying to finish up grad school. I am not lonely and do not want more moving pieces to coordinate and following through with however much I may, yes, want to check out the coven across the park or go to an ecstatic/dance improv group at 11 on a Sunday - which were two of the activities).
I did actually get as far as contacting the mental health place I have a referral to and messaging them my insurance information as requested. And...that was it. That's the last I heard from them. Now, here's the thing (feel free to skip if I've already gotten into this; I can't fucking remember if I have or not): I'm pretty sure I will not have insurance past mid-May. Why? Because it doesn't appear as thought I can COBRA school-based insurance. I didn't resign or get fired! I just graduated! Which is what you want to have happen, right? Heck yeah. But also: no.
So now I'm probably not going to follow up with them anymore because I now need someplace that will just see me for a flat fee (hopefully), and just stick it out and pay out-of-pocket as far as things like initial pediatric appointments and postpartum followup appointments go, because S will not get insurance through work and, at least as of the last time I tried to do anything with the government marketplace S will also not provide paystubs in a timely manner, and makes too much for me or kids to qualify for a sliding scale pay plan anyway.
Therefore (because I'm tired of saying 'so'), I'm kind of torn about how to address this.
Things have been somewhat peaceful the last few days, although I'm concerned that I'll jinx it by naming it.
Yesterday's sun has turned into overcast and resulted in some light snow. I continue to be not very good at getting L to school on time, but she hasn't overtly shown any discomfort with this. We are only 2 days in, though, I suppose. S is having a good-ish time in Cordova. Last night he said he intends to get back the day before I'm supposed to go in for surgery. Which is scheduled for 5:30 AM the next day. I've been telling the fetus she needs to stay in until at least the afternoon of May 1st. After that it is whatever. But she is tracking at exactly the number of weeks I allegedly am, so unless she gets a wild hare, so that's good.
I'm trying to focus on appointments this week, wrapping up capstone things for on-site this week and getting all the presentation stuff ready next week since I'm having my defense nearly a week earlier than anyone else.
On my list today are:
- verifying: did I get a prescription for the vaccine I'm supposed to get this week?
- eye appointment. Bleh. Bleh because the place I go is a little bougie and the front desk people are always stressed out there's always a little bit of miscommunication between the provider and the front desk person resulting in no followup appointments being scheduled for the main issue I have anymore which has something to do with my eye pressure threatening to be too high. Whatever. It's time. Get. It. Done.
- getting the damn RSV vaccine; if by some crazy random happenstance I can't get it that is one of maybe 3-5 reasons why I wouldn't go to graduation.
- a nap
- finishing a lecture
- picking L up from school
- dropping L off at my mom's house aka her least favorite place to go; and I just...kind of don't blame her? They have great qualities, but, yes, the passive aggression has gotten real real over the years and who wants to be around that? Nobody, that's who.
- doing some acting for lab this evening. Fun! I don't have to grade! Not that I mind grading, actually, but I should probably do other writing more closely related to shit I have to get done this week.
- light chores. For they are always with us.
Finally, a quote from Vicky from The Good Place if I may: "Acting is reacting, and reacting is pre-acting, but pre-acting? Well, that's just being."
My energy, though it hasn't been "in whack" per se for years, is officially "out of whack" as of yesterday. Wiggedy whack. Around 3:00 PM I just hit a wall and subsequently stayed at Site One for another 2.5 hours because I had to. Following that I crawled home and laid down until basically this morning. Woke up around 5:00 AM, had some coffee, and remembered that I have a big, scary, pre-test due tomorrow that if I do not achieve at least a certain score on I will have to pay re-take. And if I don't pass that one, I will not graduate. Ah, yes. There's the stress response that drives me (you? Us all?).
There's this function that's kind of like a filter and kind of like tunnel vision that kicks in at times of extra fatigue which means I can only perceive one task at a time. Yesterday that manifested in not responding to an extremely kind text message for 8 hours. *sigh*
What if...I really honed-in and tried to take the focus from longer term to short term. Like, moment-by-moment, maybe? And considered the things I am doing and saying and whether these are in alignment with my actual values. One part of me really thinks that could go some way towards reducing moral injury (a concept I don't remember hearing about prior to yesterday). Another part of me thinks that's well and good, but you forget shit on the daily already and it doesn't seem super-likely that this strategy will go any way towards...making that better. You know what? There are way more than two wolves inside me.
Anyway. Some things lately of neutral provenance:
I am. So tired. Of my brain. I don't want to feel this way. I really don't.
Twenty-six days 'til surgery.
Five days 'til S leaves for Cordova until...unsure how long?
Four days until I have to take the first full-length NBCOT practice exam.
Three days until L's last drum lesson.
Three labs left until the end of the semester.
Three and-a-half weeks left until I defend my capstone.
Two weeks left at capstone sites (not counting this one).
...there have been intermittent conversations lately about feelings. S's and mine. Nothing new on my end except for gradually increasing anxiety about postpartum. Postpartum was hell last time and (I feel) will be hell this time too. This tends to be dismissed by care providers, friend, spouse; you've got this! Cool cool cool. Love the confidence, still quite concerned about postpartum psychosis especially given *gestures broadly* all of this. "All of this" being in large part about S's difficulty emotionally supporting me as is, much less under...more stress.
That being said there is some ambivalence at play. I am highly concerned about his capacity to be a supportive co-parent and partner to me in situations of escalating stress, because any conversation I try to start about my feelings quickly turn into him talking about himself. And this isn't unexpected. It's just...who he is. It's just a bad setup all around, because I have a lot of trouble self-regulating lately (always?), am pretty BPDey at the best of times, and according to him I can't curate my tone or words in such a way as to not sound dismissive or patronizing. This morning he compared me to my father. I told him that I called the Crisis Hotline a week ago because I didn't feel like I had anyone else to turn to in that moment, and he was just like: "Yeah. Later that day I called [sponsor name] because I needed to talk to other people too." the undertone being that maybe I should try that.
So I just stopped talking. Not in a silent treatment way (I don't think), just in a *concludes conversation, goes upstairs to do chores/cry/watch Girls5Eva* way. Which could be the same thing, I don't know.
I have other thoughts, but they are kind of a mess, to be honest. I need to stop now and get ready for lab.
Things are a lot better today. Sunshine. Sammich from a sammich shop (one of the few identifiable cravings I have). S addressing a little bit of the last five days’ nonsense this morning. Very nice dental hygienist this morning. So much so that I think I’m permanently switching to Fridays for dental cleanings. And now, waiting around at site 2! If no one shows up for this group I won’t evict the two men having a meeting in there at all.
There are two things that OTs are kind of known for (I take it; to me the association was always pediatrics until I started digging), and they are cooking/baking and gardening. Those are two things that I'm not really about - at least not these days. I do remember a time when I used to bake and cook. Baking in my teens, mainly; cooking in my 20s. Gardening when I was a child, but mostly because my dad told us kids to go do it already and what were going to say - no? There have been a few forays since then but I mainly fail at those types of long-term systems maintenance things which probably means they're really good for me, actually, and I should do them the most.
My sensory system, however, doesn't like them. There's a tool called the Sensory Profile (not creative, but very descriptive) and while it's mostly (in my experience) used for kids, you can use it for adults too and it tells you where you fall in relationship to a normed group of people your same age (it's not divided by gender, though) as regards four types of sensory processing styles. What are they? Thanks for asking! They're: sensory seeking, sensory avoiding, low registration, and sensory sensitivity and once you take the test you find out if you're much less, less, about the same, more, or much more like people in that normed group I talked about in relationship to each um...sensory processing style.
The thought is that if you know that information about yourself then you can kind of hack yourself into being higher functioning or just, you know, feeling better in the world, or (I suppose) requesting accommodations for yourself. It's not a perfect measure but it's the best one out there to my knowledge. Here's the thing though - I think there might be a relationship between sensory processing and addiction. And now that I'm at the end of my capstone I'm kind of out of time to explore that in-depth, but I do want to bring it into some of the interventions I'm doing one-on-one with people here at the end. Because what if someone scores...I don't know...Much More Than Others on sensory sensitivity. Wouldn't engaging in certain types of addictive behaviors or substances level that out? Or what if someone else scored Much Less Than Others on sensory seeking? If I were going forward with this much longer I'd probably start looking at that and try to design a large-scale study to see if there are any correlations between types of substance use/psychiatric diagnoses/sensory processing style.
So if anyone out there is looking for a capstone...there you go, and get on that IRB approval.
Not so great things:
- The dude throwing an almost-empty pack of lucky strikes at a woman on the sidewalk. Hey! Don’t do that.
- Dreams about my grandmother and how her friends were…shitty? Odd dream. She was on some sort of space cruise and I was trying to help her out mobility and ADL-wise, and her friends were just running laps around her and not even stopping to ask her how she was.
- During one of the last groups in which a person attended, he (the person) was talking about things and stuff and in the background, outside the window, someone was dumpster diving. I assume for needles (there is a needle exchange in this building)? Distracting.
Neutral things:
- Running into Sc, my ex (surprise!), at Site 1 a few days ago. Not negative, not positive, just A Thing. 'twas 12 (...damn) years ago since we dated and we're both professional af, so that's good. What a long. Ass. Time. Ago that was. 12 years, that is.
- Piecing together my final presentation for my degree. The process really...does work? Like, actually? And there are a lot of pieces of my project that seem kind of like they (the school) are just trying to get free labor from students, but that's kind of part of the deal with academia. Right? Right. As long as they approve the hours.
- H intermittently dropping down in my pelvis for fun and profit. Another mom at school pickup yesterday said that since I'm scheduled for a c-section anyway even if I go into labor early they should still give me a c-section and so not to worry about that. Hope she's right.
I couldn't tell you what the deal is today, just that there is one. A small recurring theme of the past five days has been stress + hormones + anxiety + S = meltdown/crying (usually in a restaurant). This morning so much so that I ended up calling the crisis hotline for the first time in my life. And I don't necessarily think that's a reflection on things being So Bad, more that I just absolutely wouldn't have permitted myself to ask for help in times past. But I'm allowed to. And so are you. We're allowed to.
And yes, okay, early morning was pretty good, but after that and for the above reasons, today is just...shot, pretty much. I'm trying to tease out what my part in all this is, and I think it's that I dysregulate so quickly. There's also the piece where if I am stressed it's important to me that S not add to the stress, which is inevitably what happens even when not meant. Blarg. Well. At least all this is probably good in terms of getting me primed to play the Wild Card role in the practicum this afternoon. *sigh*
No Kings protest today (take 3). Am I going? Not this time. I have a strict one parent at a time policy on activism and current events have done nothing to change my mind on the matter.
34 (?) weeks today and little old ladies keep telling me that I look like I’m going to “pop”. Well, let’s hope not, Janice, because I am busy with shit and things that don’t even involve newborn preparedness but if you’re trying to express sympathy for my physical discomfort thanks, yes, I AM feeling pretty fucking physically uncomfortable.
My latest big scary presentation went pretty well, and that’s good. Leads me to believe that I might, indeed, get my doctorate here soon. Take THAT, Belhaven. I guess? And the more groups I do the more comfortable I get so mission accomplished there! Everything else is just lagniappe. I am, unfortunately, not my best self (and haven’t been for the last 9 months), but I’m not really sure what that means anymore and am firmly camp just do the damn thing. Whatever the fuck it looks like. Like Melissa Joan Hart said. On Clarissa Explains It All.
Brief conversation this morning in which S had evidently not grasped that the current plan is to fly out 9-ish days post-c-section. He keeps gently advocating (versus aggressively steamrolling, so this is a huge improvement) for not going. He said that maybe could go without the baby? I said, what, no I can’t leave a baby 9 days after birthing it. That would just be incredibly bad. Then he said that he thought we were going 4 *weeks* after birthing which…still isn’t doable, so idk man. I am very aware that Shit Might Happen that makes it impossible to go to graduation but by god I am going to try. Even though it truly isn’t a good idea! Short list of preventative things:
- airports are shut down because of government shutdown
- natural disasters (tons to choose from)
- something goes sideways with surgery or recovery with me or H
- L or S gets deathly sick
- mother-in-law has health emergency such that S can no longer come and somehow my mom isn’t able to step in
- some other variation on war
- some secret seventh thing
…and thats the way the news goes!
Where have I been? The short answer is: here.
Between busyness, fatigue, and realizing there's only 4 weeks left in my capstone holy shit things are getting real and demanding to get wrapped up into little bows. I wish that I felt better. I wish I had more energy. I wish for many things (a la Sondheim), and yet. I'm here.
The interview that didn't happen did this week and was very successful (or as successful as transatlantic Zoom can be), and I got scads of great ideas. And now I want to move to the UK. Except, I guess, they have the same problems we do (or are fixing to), just with a bit of an accent. Oh, and the NHS. On the whole it doesn't seem like they have to fuck with CPT codes quite as much. But I'm not sure. That's not what were were there to talk about.
The person I interviewed happened to have some good information about a different concern that came up with a local chain (?) of assisted living homes where they're wanting some OT perspective on elders and addiction recovery. So that was nice, albeit not directly related to capstone; I think I can log it as research if nothing else. So now I might be visiting the most local site and offering suggestions. The main thing with that being that I will not physically be able to do that past about the 4-week mark. So I hope that all falls into place sooner than later, because otherwise I will very much not be available. So it goes. So so so. I say so too much. So.
But anyway, it's been sunny and beautiful and slightly less cold. Nobody seems particularly upset with me which is a massive win. Operation: Towel has enjoyed moderate success and I plan on layering another thing on top of it once we seem out of the towel woods (sometime in April). I'm at the stage of pregnancy discomfort where I can do things, but I will then be sore for A While after; for instance, I was asked to teach a short yoga class on Tuesday and I did it, but it wasn't pretty and I did feel gross and sore afterwards. Being almost done with the illness (it keeps hanging on) I'm planning on maybe going for a nice walk on a treadmill on Saturday and starting to ease back in that way. I'm a little concerned about getting enough volunteer hours for this one thing I was doing for school, but I'm also a little concerned about my capacity for doing shit full stop. Especially given that I am now somewhat unexpectedly grading two biggish things this weekend. And, like, I like grading, but it is time-consuming. And I really really want to convey that I want the feedback to support learning not make them feel bad about themselves so then it's word vomit everywhere and - you know what I mean, right?
Of course you do! Over and out.
- Things are looking up today in no small part because at least the rest of the world is setting boundaries with the president. And somehow the second rescheduling of my airline tickets have resulted in even more refunds for me (????) and accidentally spending a half-day in Seattle. Ohhhhh noooo! Not Seattle! Whatever shall we do? Soak up the sea air and gawk at the sound while riding that giant ferris wheel? Uh oh.
- I hope I'm doing a good-enough job of not affirming or denying the fixed delusions of the people I come in contact with. I said yesterday that I feel safer at the inpatient psychiatric hospital I'm doing my capstone at than I do in the community - which probably made it sound like I find the population* distasteful. That's not the case. I feel safer because there are fewer variables in the hospital. There are infinite variables on The Outside. People who believe themselves to be a hundred percent oriented to reality who may not in very stimulating environments bumping up against people who have deep fear of mental illness and all the sights, sounds and dangers that go with that. Whereas the hospital? Everyone should at least sort of know how to interact in trauma-informed ways. There is a predictable pattern to the daily schedule and the environment is fairly predictable. Is it homey? No. Is it giving dorm room from hell? Yes. Is it still doing its best? Probably.
*And when I say "the population" I really mean: people like me and the people I love, honestly. Because I absolutely believe it to be a miracle/maybe an oversight that I haven't spent at least a little time in a similar facility. Life is hard. Society is fucked. Mental health isn't even on the back burner - it's in a cupboard somewhere and gathering dust. So. Yeah.
- Yesterday turned into a bit of a Hero's Quest (not really, actually) that involved rescheduling an appointment, a productive Microsoft Teams meeting, a doctor's appointment, half-listening to a synchronous online class amidst driving and Other Tasks because I cannot manage my time it is laughable that I ever tell anyone anything about how to do that effectively, driving to two pharmacies and stepping foot inside a grocery store. Oh, and lab in the evening.
- Now I'm sitting on Zoom waiting to see if the person I tried to schedule an interview with will actually show up. It's 12 minutes past start time and I have the free Zoom anymore, so I don't know if this is really going to pan out for me. Details that may be jamming me up: they're located in Scotland. Although I'm pretty sure I accounted for the time difference I *gestures at situation 1 in the chat*; they're probably busy and this was a somewhat last-minute scheduling ask; maybe they forgot; maybe they're proactively trying to troll an American - for which I don't blame them; also, running Zoom meetings gives me The Anxiety because I'm so sure I missed seven things that make me look like the dinosaur I am. *sigh* Anyway.
- This week has shaped up to be busier than expected (and it was expected to be pretty busy anyway). Things are picking up a little bit at Site 1 and I must now be an adult and come up with some resources for a different community site that has questions that are BAM right in the wheelhouse of my capstone project. I am volunteering/going to a local OT conference for the first time on Saturday, which I am excited about (and not questioning that excitement either - just rolling with it). And I have to present out on my topic on Tuesday which has very much turned into a *buckle up bitches here we go* level of detail, so I hope I can fit it into a half-hour and that it doesn't look/sound like trash. So that's all I'm planning on doing on Sunday except for a playdate possibly but only if that works out seamlessly.
- The energy I wish to embody for this upcoming presentation.
- Over and out.
Self-referential rant incoming - please ignore!
I hate that my brain is like this. Why does my brain struggle with scheduling so much when it's such a vital fucking skill? Why do I have to triple and quadruple check things only for them to still blow up in my face?
Would love to be able to blame my scheduling woes on literally anyone else. But no! It's me, just me. So now* if I want to go to graduation I will need to reschedule a surgical followup appointment (and they weren't happy about the spread for the first time - timeline being too short), reschedule airline tickets and a rental car and book an entirely new AirBNB and communicate with the other one about how lol actually we'll be there all day instead of just using it as a crash pad.
You know what? It'll be okay. There are worse things. I am capable of doing this. I just hate it, is all. It's quite triggering from a rest-of-my-life standpoint. /sigh
*Well, always, apparently - if I could just read a date straight /sigh
On the plus side I finally found an OT in the UK who actually works in addiction recovery and is willing to schedule time with me for an interview despite the US being responsible for a bunch of global shit such that maybe nobody should ever want to talk to me again. Which is a heck of a silver lining! ...which also involves what? Scheduling! ...and time differences.
Just a completely predictable week 9 of 14 menty b.
Feeling better today. Tried to get the most out of sleep last night, and I think I succeeded (well, as much as I ever do anymore). My cat spends a lot of time sleeping throughout the day, then gets the zoomies at night. After a little zooming around she crawls into bed with me and stands guard all night. This might be a combination of becoming night blind and me being the warmest (read: only) warm thing in the house. But she more or less does the same thing when S and L are home too. Which: they're coming home this afternoon! So my motivation has finally kicked in a bit and I'm doing some of the tidying I've been putting off. I know why it works that way; doesn't make it any less annoying, though.
The capstone nonsense continues. Despite notifying both capstone mentors (one via email, one verbally) that my midterm performance review was due from them on Monday, neither of them had turned it in as of yesterday. Texted them both to remind again and was met with no response from either. Site 3 has finally made overtures to list the dates of the groups in one place (but not the times despite my emailing this to them as well over two weeks ago) and both in a Facebook group with the lil' flyer I made. That's not nothing, I guess!
It does feel a bit like my processing abilities have been shut down...or put into sleep mode, maybe. My system is sort of rejecting the notion of coming to any sort of resolution as regards the different stressors I have going on at the moment. The immediate ones, the impending ones. The ones that I've only recently become aware of. Maybe that's for a private post (not that that's ever stopped me in the past; well - mostly).
The things I should do that my executive dysfunction is screaming about:
- I have three options to explore for psychiatric treatment.
- Renewing my passport.
- Studying for the boards more.
- Continuing with the writing parts of my capstone.
- Updating my resume, I guess?
- Figuring out my shit re: volunteering (I need something like 7 more hours before the end of the semester).
- Making a plan for tomorrow (dinner and a show with friends; it does happen sometimes!).
- Getting a present for one of the friends because I spaced their birthday on the day of?
- Contacting a pediatrician for the new kid.
- Scheduling with a pediatrician for L.
- Figuring out L's birthday.
- Setting up a nursery - in the same room with L.
- Project managing what could be a Bed Fiasco if both boys come up this summer.
- (Are both boys coming up this summer?).
- Getting a passport for L
- Spiritual practice of some sort.
- Get outside.
- Drink more water.
- Do taxes.
- Do some financial stuff that I've been putting off which are two-part and unrelated.
- Set up my Costco rebate.
- Ask my mother-in-law what she wants to do for her birthday.
- Make time to hang out with friends one-on-one.
- Set up playdates for L.
- Set up a kinesthetically-based extracurricular for L.
- Address the floor-towel situation.
- Figure out if there is a free internet browser I can download of Roku. Is there?
- Die of embarrassment because I don't really know what to tell the one friend who offered to set me up with a meal train postpartum. Who should she ask? Bestie, I have no damn idea. Not even being cute. Don't know. Love the thought.
- Watching Honey, Don't. No particular reason, just thought I'd throw that in there.
Okay, now that I have a list I guess I'll...keep avoiding it and go fold laundry, clean the upstairs bathroom and see about taking a quick shower before it's time to go to the airport.
Of all the cleaning things I aimed to do this weekend, what I actually did was transform my bedroom into an oasis (yay) and vacuum the hall. I guess I got a little too relaxed as a result, though, because now I am sick. I suspect COVID or a sinus infection. All my COVID tests are expired to an extent such that the solutions are all dried up so I will hie me to the store this morning to get a brand new one.
So I worked from home yesterday and am taking the only medication that I am for-sure allowed during pregnancy to manage my symptoms: Tylenol. Yes, it's brand-name.
I felt bad about calling out from "work" yesterday, but I suppose it doesn't matter to anyone there very much. I'm there? Great. I'm not? Also great.
It's a little over the halfway point of capstone, though, and I'm kind of over working from home. This is all very predictable. And I'm kind of over the predictable nature of it. Maybe that's just the COVID talking.
Anyway. Attempting sleep, pain management (like I said), working on slide decks, and watching Agents of Mystery (Korean reality challenge show that's giving X-Files - worth checking out), My Favorite Murder (what it is; the podcast but filmed from the side) and Roz Hernandez: The Haunted Doll (Roz is a trans drag queen who hunts ghosts in haunted hotels, but doesn't sleep in them; the episode I saw was filmed in Jerome and damn it's -18 in my neighborhood right now so - yes I'm missing the high desert 15 years later) in-between.
Brain fog is making coherence challenging, but sleep was easier last night (if stressful, what with being full of dreams about trying to get three kids to sleep in separate places during a sleepover), so I'm going to finish my coffee, listen to the news (cringe), and soldier on I guess.
Today is day two of Spring Break: The Grownup Version. S and L have flown to Disneyland and it's starting snowing in earnest (again) here. I am missing them, and also enjoying the little perks of being a temporary hermit. The quiet. The sleeping by myself. Monopolizing the television to watch Million Dollar Secret, do homework without distraction, and begin chipping away at un-fucking the house. The cat is happy to be left alone. At 31 weeks pregnant, I am happy not to be standing in line and doing way more socialization than my nervous system likes.
I am less thrilled that I will probably need to shovel at some point today, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. Even less thrilled that we're at war again (still?), and that all the Christian nationalists are getting everything they ever dreamed of. Big motherfucking uh-oh right there. And that there were ~11 ICE agents at the airport in Anchorage, apparently, while my husband and daughter were going through security.
However far I get in un-fucking the house, I've been trying to think of ways to mitigate the fuckery once S and L get back. And I suppose I should go about it one thing at a time, because change tends to happen in small, measurable (actionable! Relevant! Time-bound!) steps. I don't exactly remember how many days it's supposed to take for a new habit to stick, but I think it's something between 30 and 90 days? So anyway, I'm making a list of things I want to address one-at-a-tedious time until forever, I guess. Or until I hit postpartum and am hanging on by my lil' fingernails. But I imagine the first one to emerge will be Leaving Towels Places.
Do you Leave Towels Places? Please, for the love of god - do not. A towel's natural habitat is hanging up on a towel bar, wadded up in the laundry basket or clean and folded in the linen closet. Not damp and strewn in your bed. Not damp and strewn on the floor. Not strewn anywhere, really. We have a truly astonishing number of towels when they're all laundered and folded and literally none the rest of the time. After 10 years of this I am definitely not cool girl about it anymore. I can't know how to hear any more about towels! Ahem. Might have bottled this up for too long. Maybe.
So anyway. Address that for ~30 days, reevaluate and jump on the next thing. Are there things that are more important? Probably. But I'd like some evident change, please.
Had a followup with my psychiatric NP and she floated the idea of increasing my bupropion from 150 mg to 300 mg. In a subsequent followup with my OB she was like, "So, you're just taking two instead of one now, right?" Oh. I guess I could do that. My brain is typically just like: no. Finish the current protocol and then start on the new one. But, no. Just do the change thing why not? It's fine. Silly brain.
Randomly ran into K at the gym by my house and it's was nice to see her. Not the same as it once was, but nice to catch up. Lots of "if you need anything reach out I'm here" and nodding. Yup, yup. I am for whatever combination of reasons not great at doing that and never have been, but okay. I did used to have a little chart (with stickers!) so I could rotate through reaching out to friends and spending time with them because I was so shit at it. Maybe I should institute that again, but incorporate all the playdate shenanigans L requires while I'm at it. Because: limited amount of that type of social engagement spoons.
Okay, time to study for the NBCOT a bit, then go run a group that absolutely no-one will show up to (in a snowstorm!), work out and then go to the bookstore with V. Oh, and shovel perhaps? Because I'm cosplaying as a Real Person today.
The dreams have been intense and immersive lately. Hm. Probably the moon. They don't portend anything particularly catastrophic. No, no. The news does that.
Have you watched Lost Women of Alaska on HBO Max? It's pretty good. It's very sad. True. And- I hope more people see it, because it's any important topic. But also maybe don't watch it if you're maxed out on Sad Shit That Happens to Women. Which some days - I am.
It occurred to me recently that I might go into early labor. I have no reason to think this. The fetus has been behaving herself like any good stowaway and it doesn't really seem like it. Because it's not something I really can predict I did what I sometimes still do (and used to do a lot). Pull tarot cards! However it's hard to really trust the answer - and not even just for the regular reasons - but because every time I try to pull cards for the fetus The Hermit comes up. And then the 4 of Wands. Hermit, 4 of Wands, Hermit, 4 of Wands. It's kind of funny.
Me: <<specific question>>
Her: Hermit
Me: I know, but what about <<specific question>>?
Her: Oh! lol. 4 of Wands.
Me: Okay, but I said -
Her: Hermit. Definitely Hermit.
And so on.
I'm properly annoyed with Site 3 of my capstone now and, although the circumstances that make this so are probably unavoidable and impersonal, I still find myself with The Feels because my nervous system fucking hates ambiguity. What do I mean by that? Good question. I'm supposed to be running groups at this site, but this has been made difficult because: the site is in a secured building which I do not have access to without An Adult, there is only one Adult who works at the site and they do not work in a terribly predictive pattern which in turn is due to life circumstances that cannot be avoided. The site has not advertised the series at all with the exception of putting one flyer (flier?) up in the window of a neighboring nonprofit, and there seems to be some political shit happening between the municipal and state branches of this site which make me wonder if this was even a good idea in the first place? I am pivoting and recording videos for them to use which I may then just post online for the helluvit (without my face because the [presumed] 'tism is pretty visible on camera), so things are still happening, but I am still just.... I don't know. It's hard for me to hold 2+ eventualities in my head at a time, if that makes sense? Like, physically uncomfortable? Like the suspense of if someone might show up is worse than if I know nobody's going to or I know somebody is? There's also the remote possibility that this situation might be exacerbated by the Adult having been let go from the same burlesque company I am (still, somehow) in and maybe having some big feelings about that? I am neutral as fuck about the whole thing, but dang do I know how that feels. It's probably not that last, burlesqu-y factor. But if it is - wild.
We went swimming on Saturday and it was packed. Like: a public swimming pool in the 90s packed. But we soldier on, so we got in the warm pool and I start floating around like the manatee I (proudly) am. Then, L swims up to me, "I think there's poop in the pool." Oh shit. So I look and it's a soft maybe. It's not floating exactly, it's smaller than a bean larger than a grain of rice. We decide to tell the lifeguard. Nobody wants it to be poop. Not on a Saturday (the day of birthday parties). After a few more inspections, me attempting to dive for it but being unable to grasp it with a glove on the lifeguard gets a net and scoops it up. Guess what? Yes. It's poop. Clear the pool! We have both ruined Saturday and are poop heroes! It be like that sometime.
The paragraph about S: as of Monday he achieved being one year sober from alcohol 🎊. The day before that he sat down to tell me (as I was playing Stardew Valley - honestly not a bad time to choose) that he has actually been back on marijuana since October. This kind of tracks...but I truly didn't know. And I have some complex feelings about that that I'll be processing for a while. The second thing he told me (later in the day on Sunday) was that he's now okay with me having male friends, in part because he's realizing how much he's benefitted from having female friends over the past year.
So that's quite a mixed bag of news. I'm extremely happy about the first and last parts of all that but, as always, concerned about the longterm veracity of it. Is this truly a permanent shift in perspective? If not, am I prepared to deal with the whiplash? Because I absolutely do not intend on waffling around on this like a damn...waffle. One of the reasons I was cited was that he's noticed I'm having a hard time right now (true; see all those journal entries), and I'm not leaning on my in-person friends/having a hard time being a friend to my in-person friends (also true, bit of a chronic problem, though, less circumstantial than it may seem - also pretty much entirely my fault) so perhaps it's not so bad to have a wider support system. So my question is: if one or both of those things were to change would this offer (?) be retracted? Am I being told about the marijuana on the eve of his alcohol sobriety anniversary because "She can't be mad at me about that, because I'm a year alcohol sober!"?
So, as always, things be complicated. But maybe...just maybe...things are looking up in March. At least, aside from current events. <<brief thousand-yard stare>> Ahem. But I do notice an immediate shift in how I feel about life having been told that "Hey - it's sanctioned for you to be yourself, have autonomy, volition, etc.". Not that permission is supposed to come from anyone outside myself, mind you. But circumstances being what they have been - it's an improvement.
Okay. TTYL (goddess willing)!
- I had coffee with E a few days ago and I noticed that I had a lot of complex feelings about that. L wanted to tag along even though it was made very clear that it would be grownups only (other than her) and she might have to bring activities to keep herself occupied. She agreed and it turned out to be a good thing she did because it came about that whipped cream shenanigans created a situation which allowed me to see (mini) crisis problem-solving in action and she insisted on playing Jenga which brought to light some other things. Ahem. Anyway. It sounds particularly cunty to say this, but these days E only asks me to lunch or coffee to ask me about K. We are friends, but I can't really say that we have anything much in common to talk about or do than that and there hasn't been movement on either side to expand the situation. E and K are estranged. On this occasion, E asked me to see pictures of her (estranged) grandchildren on Facebook. I didn't feel comfortable with this and have, besides, removed Facebook from my home screen because I am a doom-scroller yup that's what I am. But anyway, as always, I am concerned about E and this time the reasons are these:
- Chipping away at Love is Blind: Ohio here and there; it's less that I like it and more that it demands nothing of me. And I want to be able to have thoughts and participate in conversations if/when they come up. Every once in a while I'll see something and realize: Oh no. That's me. I have said that and done that. And cringe heavily and self-reflect for a bit. I also recently had to do a presentation on an assessment called the Life Balance Inventory (LBI) so I am a little crossed up re: LIB and LBI. I could have made a lil' joke about it during the presentation, but I am le tired these days even though I am much more lax about the caffeine thing this pregnancy. 100-150 mg/day @ 29 weeks. Woo? Woo.
- Remember the stock market crash of 1929? Yeah. I am concerned about 2029. Based on nothing in particular - except for everything. You know? Everything.
- I am tired of formatting slide decks, but I need to clock at least 37 hours a week, and it helps me get there. So I am trying to channel my inner middle-schooler who was super into graphic design in the 90s. Other things she was super into: Wheel of Time and elaborate fan casting of the same, filk, etiquette books from like the 70s, Cadfael and Agatha Christie murder mysteries, P.G. Wodehouse, Douglas Adams, Star Trek novels, Star Wars novels, writing bad fiction about a family that lived on another planet or in space or something called the Syr Daryas, writing bad fan-fiction about Jonny Quest the 90s version and JAG of all things, the Golden Age of Hollywood, The Pretender with Andrea Parker and that one guy, The Avengers with John Steed and Emma Peel and, of course, bridal magazines. The Mac shareware game sampler CDs were pretty lit also! I was never smart enough for Myst, though. Maybe these days. ...maybe not 👀👀
L sometimes surprises me with her oddly realistic take on things, although maybe it's not so odd really. She exclaims about her classmates saying they can be anything they want to be when they grow up. What if those jobs aren't available when they grow up, she wonders? What if too many people have that job already? What if you don't make enough money doing that job? ...and then other times she does not seem to comprehend that goods and services cost money and mom does not make shit tons of that. Especially at the moment.
Recently my parents made a pilgrimage down to Soldotna for my godmother's funeral...memorial? Remembrance of life. It was sort of also for my godfather who had died a few years earlier. Which, my first thought is: even in death she can't have a whole damn memorial service to herself? Jesus. Characteristically, I only found out about both the death and the service as they were leaving. I think it's okay. Oddly, although I've been living a scant four hours away from Soldotna for past 14 years I only visited them once. Differences in philosophy? Opinion? Religion? They were part of my formative years (in Texas) and kind of one of the reasons I moved to Alaska in the first place (in the sense that they planted the seed of possibility), but that's as far as it extended. My parents said that of their two children only their son was involved in the funeral because he and his sister had had a falling out about my godmother's end-of-life care. Well. Okay, then. That's what mental rigidity yields, I suppose.
Written yesterday while sitting in the lobby of Alaska Women's Clinic and waiting for my glucose test blood draw. There's this viscous, sweet liquid that you have to/get to drink around 27 weeks in which they tell you if you have gestational diabetes or not. We'll see! I had all these plans to eat protein this morning and make damn sure I pass the test (although it probably does not work this way), but I had a Zoom meeting and have to look presentable for the rest of the day and make breakfast and pack lunch for L so it just didn't pan out. I ate what I normally ate: oatmeal with peanut butter and collagen with black coffee. Hopefully it's fine? We'll see.
My parents travel between Alaska and Texas at least once per year, and when they're in Texas they stay with one of my dad's old friends, K. I vaguely remember K from growing up. You know how it is: they stand around talking to your dad, you're friends with their kid, and that's about it. He didn't make a particular impact on me, I just know that I got in trouble (kind of) because I told his oldest daughter that Santa Claus didn't exist when I was five and she was three or so. Over the years, my parents would kind of talk trash about his wife at the dinner table (they were constantly talking trash about people and it stressed me out then and really impacted me), and eventually they got divorced. At one point, when I was in college, my parents mentioned in passing that the daughters had come out with allegations of sexual abuse against K, and wasn't that terrible? Not that the daughters were sexually abused, but that they were accusing their dad of such a thing - and wasn't it terrible that his ex-wife was turning them against him? God forbid they engage in reflection about the possibility that their friend might be ill in this way. No, automatic disbelief of the children. And they still stay with him. They've recently bought land from him. And the invited their other set of grandchildren to visit on his farm. He's estranged from all but one or two of his children. And truly? I don't really know what happened Of course I don't. But I don't automatically think children are lying about something like that.
