Today's the Day (It's Chicken and Waffles Day)

 I hold onto this (and hope I do forever).

Chicken from Raisin' Cane's (we finally got one in Tikhatnu; okay, Dimond too), waffles I make myself from store brand waffle mix and...hot sauce!

Some of my favorite memories are having chicken and waffles the day before Thanksgiving. I used to talk on the phone while I was walking around Fry's in Prescott. Annoying, I'm sure, but it kept me on task. The attention to detail then: shitty paper plates, the flimsiest pre-sliced white bread, and trying to figure out how to make a blue kool-aid drank (the a is intentional) using Mad Dog and Hypnotiq.

I don't put that much effort into the details anymore. And L is too little for me to watch blaxploitation films with her. But I love chicken and waffles day. And I hope I keep it going. 

the only intervention happening is the one in my mind

 - maybe I was so obsessed with planning a wedding in my early teens because it was a glimmer of it being Okay For Things To Be The Way I Want Them.

- it's well below zero today WHATEVER iOS says. The heater is working so hard and my hands are so cold.

- watching a lecture about rheumatoid arthritis today and I was fucking RIGHT. You're NOT supposed to have infinite numbers of cortisone shots because over time it will damage your cartilage and bone. Just because there's less inflammation doesn't mean the underlying issue has been addressed, ya'll.

- try this: 16 oz. au lait, 2 pumps toffeenut, 2 pumps whit mocha, steamed oat milk, add 1 shot blonde espresso, whipped cream, honey on top. Still the best.

11/10/23 - 11/18/23

What must it be to want to be touched.

In any sense.

It’s snowing. Been snowing for almost 48 hours.

Nope.

I'm not the best wife. My head is down. I'm trying to figure out how the fuck to cite this part of my group paper. And next I will pack up lunches. Take a shower. Try to talk myself into trying the pre-diabetic diet. Give L a shower. Pack up for a day of studying. Start the dishwasher. And then try to learn neuroanatomy catch up on lectures go to the library (or museum) place a grocery pickup order and fold laundry. Probably leftovers for dinner. And maybe a lecture. And you come at me talking about Do I Want To Open Up the Relationship Is That My Endgame By Wearing Fishnets To Work Twice.

Bitch, I am barely existing. And if we're talking different futures that are appealing? I'd rather have a small house BY MYSELF. I'm used up. I'm exhausted. I do not want to be touched. And there is a small number of people I want to have around my daughter most of whom I already know and don't think of romantically. I want YOU to step up and do the work to repair the damage you've done and stop YELLING AT ME for GARMENT CHOICES.

But I do not say any of that. I keep working on my paper. And cry. And once you've left I make myself a second cup of coffee and write it out.

I would be excited to sleep in a bed by myself while you're out of town but that room is a fetid pit and I don't know that I want to clean it. I don't know that I want to do much of anything anymore with this person. 

...

But it's not just me, is it?

Nope.

I'm 37...

 ...and I'm not really here to hear (see what I did there?) that my husband doesn't want me to wear fishnets to work (at a coffee shop ffs, not the Bush Company). It is 2023. They are a leg covering with a fun pattern. I am not "dtf" (his words). I am fucking tired and wearing literally shorts over them under a dress under a sweater and an apron. I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT and too tired to be properly angry.

Nothing spookier than the patriarchy if I'm being honest

The Barbie Movie has been on steady rotation at my house, which is pretty great. I never thought I'd consistently cry during the part where she's running away from the executives, but here we are. Oh right - spoilers.

Just got together with K's mom who is now estranged. I am and am not caught in the middle. I feel a lot like barfing. I feel for both of them. I don't know what to say. In quiet moments after conversations I find myself thinking "your trauma responses are just incompatible". There's something here. Something uncomfortable. And I worry about it. For them. Individually. Maybe by next year I'll be able to find it in myself to say things like "As a parent, it's not yours to belittle the experiences your children articulate having as children." You really can't say: no, it didn't happen that way. There's that adage that resurfaces every so often about not remembering what you said but remembering how you made them feel.

Kids don't always remember details. But they remember how you made them feel. If your kid tells you they always feel scared it's your job to listen. Not explode on them. *sigh* I do see what K is saying. But what do I say? How do I say it without getting exploded at? Do I just get exploded at? Maybe.

I am concerned about cognitive deterioration. Go to counseling. Look inward. Nobody wants to hear that. Go to a damn yoga class. I don't know.  Maybe relate it to couples counseling where the other person can't or won't go. 

I, myself, want to go to a damn yoga class.

It does hurt when you can't or won't remember why you're being ghosted. That describes me too.

But for today. Just feeling sad with. Hugging. Listening. I wish I had more insight to offer but I don't know. I wasn't there. I'm not a sibling. I can't say to do x or y because the comprehension just isn't there; but also because things have already reached a point at which she no longer has access to K. 

On a different topic: maybe, if my delusions allow me to live through the days and be more or less okay.... Maybe that's okay. Maybe that's enough. Humans do a lot of shit to deal with the parts of their lives that are or feel dangerous.

Anyway bye I have to go care about cranial nerves now. Turning off that spigot. Running up that hill.

Here we go

 My first 4:30 AM shift! I am on time. Early even!

The parent-teacher conference luckily fell on a day when I was hormonally primed to feel the warm and fuzzies from L’s teacher’s clear love for L versus jump off the cliff of irritation the total lack of communicative systems in place hath wrought.

Win win win