I haven’t posted since April, ugh. It’s been the longest break I’ve taken since I started blogging for realz in 2012.
I don’t even know what I want to say now…it’s more that I want to break the silent streak and hopefully gain some momentum from putting fingers to keys and seeing what comes out.
This summer is feeling like a great in-between time. The adults are vaccinated, but our kids are not. For me, getting vaccinated is the benchmark for feeling safe, for getting out and doing stuff.
We’ve been socializing more. It’s been weird. I’ve gone into people’s houses. What?!
Each summer here in the PNW I tend to feel a renewed urge to get out and be active, get fit. In an effort to do that, I fell off my bike and badly sprained my ankle. I think the universe is telling me to slow my roll.
As my depression lifted, and as the world opened up, my anxiety moved back in. Oh hey, look, you have some vacancies to fill. Don’t mind if I do.
I worked hard to find a therapist who 1) had openings – because therapists ARE FULL UP right now, and 2) was willing to see vaccinated folks in person. I knew I’d need the extra support for going back out into the world and processing all the shit we’d just been through. Also, I would like to go back to work at some point aaaaaand I’m gonna need to take care of myself first before I can get back into the therapy office as the shrink.
So far, this has been a summer of patience. Of healing. Of reconnecting. Of deciding on my boundaries moving forward.
It’s dark in here. And cold. I don’t like the cold but the dark is kinda nice. It wraps me up so your pity cannot see me.
I’m not sure how I got here or how long I’ve been. I have no idea how long I’ll stay or how I could leave if I wanted to.
Do I want to? I don’t even know what’s outside anymore.
I want to drive and meet people.
I don’t want to drive and meet people.
I need to pack.
I’m excited to pack?
Leave me alone so I can pack.
What do I need again?
Put things in the car. Don’t forget.
Get gas. Wait.
Run errands. Hurry.
Maybe coffee will make me feel…how I’m supposed to feel. Why, I have no clue.
Remember. Don’t forget.
People are waiting.
Pull over. It’s too much. I can’t see.
Driving fast. Novel sights, new smells.
Missed turn. Racing heart.
Engine cuts out, so do I.
Resist the urge to run. Keep driving.
Moving fast feels like standing still.
Get out of the car.
I made it.
Say hello to my new Depression Translator.
Me: “Hi. Where’s the bathroom?”
DT: “Hello, friends. I am happy to be here but I’m depressed, exhausted, and fear human interaction. I’m going to go hide in the bathroom for a moment and try not to cry and/or hyperventilate. It may take me a while to calm down and warm up to this social situation. I’m sorry if I seem weird or rude. I know how this must look. I can’t seem to fix it. But I’m here. I made it.”
I feel the need to accompany content like this with disclaimers because I’m aware that I’m writing for an audience. I want to normalize depression and anxiety and I want to suck the stigma out of it. I want to normalize expressing depression and anxiety because that’s healthy. I fear judgement for writing stuff like this, but I feel compelled to do it nonetheless. Take from it what you will, and leave your advice at the door. Thanks.
I like to blog and take stock of my life on my birthdays, but this year I don’t even know where to start.
I usually get a massage on my birthday, but that didn’t happen. (There is a part of me that just wants to say fuck it and go do whatever I wanna do, but the rule follower part of me won’t allow that fantasy to become a reality.) Even though holy crap I could really use one because I can literally feel the weight of junk that’s been collecting and that I’ve been dragging around with me. After said massage, I usually go and sit in a Starbucks where I drink coffee without kids and I blog and read. As I type this, I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot of a park overlooking a river. I have my Starbucks and I just inhaled a birthday donut. At least it’s quiet and there are zero kids in the vicinity.
Usually, my birthday evokes feelings around my long-ago cancer diagnosis. This year, I have some (because how can I not), but mostly I’m struck by how covid/the pandemic/quarantining has shoved my cancer history to the back burner. Comparatively, it’s made my cancer feel more like a distant memory than ever before. Not sure how I feel about that.
It’s been exactly a year since I’ve had a date night out with my husband. I haven’t seen my parents in 15 months. I haven’t seen my brother for even longer. I can’t count how many face masks I own now. It’s good to acknowledge loss and take time to grieve, and I do that from time to time, but….how do I keep doing that when the trauma isn’t over? And this is me, who’s specifically trained to help heal trauma.
I often wonder how time and perspective will shape how I feel about this experience, this season in my life. How will I remember it? What stories will I tell? How and when will this all end? How will this shape how I live the rest of my life?
I’ve realized that it doesn’t take much to make me happy. Or content, at least. In a time when I’ve been stuck at home and can’t have nice things, it’s been the little things that have gotten me through. Kickball with my kids. Watching disaster movies with my husband. Reading really good books late into the night.
At the same time, I feel like it also doesn’t take much to trigger my anxiety. I anticipate having to retrain myself what safety feels like once this is “over” and we decide we can be social again. (Notice I didn’t say “normal,” because life won’t go back to the way it was before. In many ways, we’re forever changed.) About 3 years ago I went back to therapy for severe postpartum anxiety and in many ways I feel like the progress I made then has been shredded by covid. Covid is my anxiety’s best friend. Fuck you both.
I’m getting to the point where I am craving human contact and mentally crumbling under the cumulative weight of this crisis. Two of my peers lost their fathers recently, one to covid and one not, but both can’t grieve the way they want. I still don’t know anybody personally who’s died from covid but it’s getting closer and closer to home. It’s unsettling and I don’t like it.
I’m getting so sick of my family. I love them, but we’re always together. I have no opportunity to miss them. It’s a blessing and a curse because I wouldn’t have it any other way, but sweet baby jesus I’m ready to travel and go to the movies and hug my friends and have more personal space. I have never wanted a shot in the arm so badly in my entire life. I still have hope, of course, but what I need is some relief.
I know that many can identify with me that this year of deprivation has lit a fire under my desire to get my adult life started as soon as this is over. Life is short, and I want to go back to work. I want to see the world. I want my kids to build lives of their own, apart from me. I realize this will all happen in good time, but right here, right now, we can’t do it and I’m getting tired of waiting.
This morning, instead of a massage, I bought wrinkle cream and lounge wear on the internet.
I haven’t blogged in over a month. I’ve been all over the place. I feel scattered – everywhere at once. In an effort to “get things done” I start one task and then pause that and start another until I’m simultaneously trying to do several while none of them get finished and I end up forgetting what the first task was. Indeed, I started reading an article and then decided I should blog.
I feel lost. Every day is the same, and now that we’re past Christmas and New Year’s here in Oregon, it’s all the same gray, wet shit. My therapeutic happy light used to combat SAD needs to be, like, turbo charged cuz it’s not cutting it. I often don’t know what day it is. I have a million nitty gritty things to do that are made harder by Covid restrictions and trying to not get sick. Returns to retail stores. Repairing my car’s tire (AGAIN!). Relying on whatever substitutions our grocery store pickup offers us, which is sometimes bizarre.
The political junk is unreal. I told my husband the other day that I had the vague thought about needing to finish that one book about the attempted coup because I wanted to know how it ended before I realized…oh yeah. Not a book.
And then Oregon schools are just now moving in the direction of opening up and I’m pissed. We’ve been in lockdown more or less for 10 months now, and we have several vaccines in the pipeline (if you follow Oregon news, our government is slow as fuck getting those needles into people’s arms for some reason) and the government, school boards JUST NOW are making decisions to open up. Hey, I know! We’ve waited 10 months to try and flatten the curve and that didn’t work so you know what we should do?! Open the fuck up so that we can perpetuate community spread at the height of Oregon’s case numbers and deaths after the holiday surge. High five!
Oh, and I’m doing Whole 30 again so there’s that. All this fucking rabbit food had better kick in and make me feel better because it’s a goddamn miracle I didn’t reach for the mint chocolate chip on January 6th.
One good thing to end on – I randomly decided to mention a lifelong dream of mine to the members of my moms group – that I want to learn the piano at some point. I have zero musical experience. I don’t know how to read music. Never owned an instrument. I sing a lot and was in choir once, but I learned the songs by ear. Aaaaanyway, what comes up on my Facebook feed just days after I make this comment? A local piano teacher offering zoom classes for adult beginners. THAT’S ME! There was no way I couldn’t not NOT do it. So the teacher actually helped me spend a chunk of my Christmas money to buy a used keyboard and I signed up for the class……and it starts in two days!! I’m super excited and intimidated and nervous, but hey. It’s Covid and it’s zoom so it’s convenient and I’m not doing anything better besides drooling at Amos’ abs on The Expanse (ANYONE ELSE?! Dear lord don’t get me started.)
So there you have it.
Happy rambling 2021, you guys. May you feel safe and loved and relatively sane. Ish.
The partner and I went to see it (meaning, we planned a trip to Puerto Rico and I insisted he drive me all the way across the island to go see an amazing scientific instrument that appeared in one of my all time favorite movies) in 2012 and now I’m even more glad and thankful we did.
I think this is the third time I’ve attempted NaBloPoMo, if memory serves, and this time definitely felt the most…fun. It was a needed distraction this time, a needed outlet. It was a positive and productive way to channel my idle time spent between schooling my kids and bingeing Netflix and sneaking Halloween candy.
The best and most surprising thing about this month- I was able to create new, original content every. single. day. In years past, I’ve resorted to reblogging old posts of mine or reblogging others’ posts or posting a single, large poop emoji, but this year somehow the words they were a-flowin’. And I’m super proud of some of the pieces I wrote to boot. This one made me giggle in particular.
Another great aspect of doing NaBloMoPo as part of the Cheer Pepper community – I met some rad new bloggers and read interesting, creative and thought-provoking content.
Thank you to Ra, who orchestrated this amazing community.
Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and comment on my posts.
Thank you to my husband, who fielded my daily laments of whaaaaaat should I blog about nooooow?! and listened to my mid-writing rants and pretended to care when I read sections out loud to him when I thought I was being particularly crafty and witty.
Thanks to my IRL friends for their support and some fabulous writing ideas!
Thanks to my kids for endless inspiration and interruption.
Perhaps I’ll be back doing this next year, but stick around and read me all year long (sign up to follow my posts right here on WordPress, or check me out on Twitter or Facebook – links in the sidebar); I’m hoping the creative juices I got flowing this month won’t dry up anytime soon.
I’m gonna sign off using Brene Brown’s line because it’s awesome and because I don’t think she’ll mind:
My Dear Psychos, I struggled to think of something to blog about today.
I went to https://cheerpeppers.wordpress.com/ to look for prompts and I wandered into this database for photos anyone can use on their sites. The photos reminded me of little prompts I sometimes get in my feed from HitRecord. Any of you heard of it? I’m a fan of Joseph Gordon Levitt, and this is an organization where he and others make art and crowdsource for contributions. What I like about it is that it’s accessible, it’s easy, and the prompts are so simple, especially the micro ones. Meaning, he often posts an intriguing photo and then asks his followers to post a story that’s exactly 6 words to match. A 6 word story?! I can do that. Anyone can.
Therefore, I searched for a photo that inspired me and wrote my own micro story. Observe:
Everything she knew was completely destroyed.
And now I task you with doing the same. Comment below with your own 6 word story for this same photo.
Here’s something that annoyed me but I did not allow to ruin my day.
We went hiking today. The weather app on my phone did not predict rain. I live in Oregon. I’ve lived here for almost exactly 7 years now. Fricknfrack, I should know better to carry rain gear with me wherever I go after Labor Day, whatever the app may or may not say. I’m just so tired of lugging my entire household with me whenever we go on an outing. Jackets aaaaaand rain jackets, hats, snacks, water, plastic bags for when things get wet and/or dirty, extra snacks, and now I’ve included masks and hand sanitizer, plus the toddler potty in case the restrooms are closed due to Covid. Ugh.
At any rate, we got rained on. In true form, the kids complained at first that we weren’t going on the long hike. And then later on, they complained that they were “wet” and “tired.” We didn’t get completely drenched and we didn’t have any complete meltdowns so that’s considered a success in our book. The kids reported that their favorite part was the snack. Parenting high-five!
2. Here’s something that brought tears to my eyes and made my heart happy
We watched the SpaceX launch today. A multicultural, international team of three men and one woman got catapulted into space today and they’re headed to the ISS!! My eyes teared up as soon as they reached max q, a few minutes after launch.
What made me even MORE happy was to see a panel OF THREE WICKED SMART LADIES giving us commentary after the launch. I can’t remember a time where I have ever watched any sort of big, important science endeavor be presented and interpreted for the public via a panel of womenfolk. Moving forward, I’d like to get to a place where I am no longer astounded by this. But for now, good on you, NASA and SpaceX.
3. Here’s something that tickled my funny bone.
Yesterday, a lonely, lonely person with a sexual affinity for clowns stumbled across my blog and I feel like I owe that person a heartfelt apology.
I’m so sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for here. I hope you enjoyed a post or two before moving onto…more edgy entertainment…but if not, I understand too. The heart wants what the heart wants. Good luck to you!
I just remembered, a day late, that yesterday was my blogiversary.
That’s right, folks! I’ve been blogging with WordPress for 9 whole years. Whew, that seems like a lifetime ago now.
I started my first diary when I was 8 years old. It was in one of those Lisa Frank diaries with the scented pages and the metal lock on the side. My first entry was about the trip my family took to drive through the devastation of the Oakland Hills fire. I had never seen anything like this before. I remember seeing ash and debris and a bunch of brick fireplaces where houses should be. Like a budding journalist (or at the very least, a person who enjoys properly documenting everything), I drew pictures of what I saw next to my words. Clearly, it made an impact on me, even if I didn’t completely understand what I was seeing at the time.
Over the years, I continued to keep various diaries, albeit sporadically. I also wrote poetry and songs, and I tried my hand at fiction a few times. No joke- around 4th or 5th grade, my friend and I got together and wrote a full album’s worth of songs about pollution and how bad it was for the earth (spoiler alert- it’s really bad). We even recorded a few that we sang at her house with her family’s fancy equipment. I want to say that we even designed a t-shirt to be sold to help raise money for our cause. We were environmentally conscious and we were going places, you guys.
I kept handwritten diaries through my college and grad school years that were for my eyes only. In looking back through them, I noted that I usually only felt the need to write when I was either angry and frustrated or very, very sad. They made for a very lopsided view of my life, if considered all on their own.
I started my first public blog around 2003, as a way of coping after my cancer surgery. It was with LiveJournal – anyone remember that platform?! I’m pretty sure only my college roommates and a smattering of friends and creepy strangers actually read it, but that wasn’t really the point. While I wanted to get my feet wet writing for an audience that wasn’t an English teacher, the entries were mostly for me. After a year and a half of being independent in college, I was home again and briefly unable to do much at all for myself and I needed an outlet. I needed a way to process what had happened to me, how I felt about it, and how I was gonna deal with it. I made that happen from the comfort of my parents’ ginormous communal desktop computer.
At some point, my LiveJournal career peetered out (I’m guessing college and life got back to being normal and busy) and I didn’t do any online journaling for quite some time.
Fast forward to Fall 2011. I had been out of school for a few years, working as a therapist at my first Big Girl Job. My boyfriend (now husband) had just started his master’s degree while working full time. He was either at work, at class, in the car, or studying, which meant he had zero time to hang out with me. I desperately needed a hobby and didn’t have to think too long or too hard to know what I needed to do.
Fun fact: when I first signed up with WordPress, I named my blog Things My Cat Made Me Say. I suppose I decided that my cat didn’t deserve all that unearned attention. Either that, or the theme was a little too nebulous. Ideally, I wanted an overarching theme for this blog that wasn’t just look-at-me-look-at-me, but still reflected who I was and gave me a sense of direction. At the time, I was living and breathing therapy. I worked two jobs seeing clients, consulting with my colleagues, and working with supervisors. I spent my free time researching weird diagnoses and reading disturbing memoirs of fucked up people. I was in it to win it, and so my blog might as well reflect that.
I searched for the right name, crowdsourcing my Facebook friends and keeping a witty list of Freudian-inspired puns. During one supervision meeting at work, a coworker mentioned the term psychobabble in passing, and I quickly scribbled it down in my notes. That’s it! I thought. It was perfect- psychology themed with just the right amount of crazy.
And I’ve been blogging, more or less, ever since. It’s still, as it will always be, mostly for me. Will it ever lead to a more serious writing gig? We’ll see. For right now, I’m super proud of my growing body of work. I enjoy the community this blog assembles around me and I enjoy using my tiny corner of the internet to express myself, process my feelings, and maybe make people laugh along the way.
Thank you, thank you, to everyone who takes the time to read my posts!
Welcome to Day 1 of NaBloPoMo, or as I like to call it, HolyShitIForgotINeedToGoPostSomethingBRB. I really enjoy writing, but give me a deadline and it almost immediately becomes a yucky chore. So I do this month to challenge myself and I do it in 2020 because why the hell not? It’s a healthy outlet that I will add to my pile of leftover Halloween candy and leftover Labor Day booze (that’s a thing right?). Also, I figure that this healthy activity gets me out of things because now I just hole myself up in my room (ok, the bathroom) and yell SORRY, CAN’T! I’M BLOGGING!
Without any further ado.
I am basking in the Halloween afterglow, you guys.
We saved it, and I’m so glad.
Halloween is my very most favorite, but my expectations were appropriately low because hashtag dumpster fire. As you know, I usually make or put together as much of the costumes as possible. I don’t like to buy the premade costumes cuz that feels like cheating.
While my kids are still young and impressionable, I also try to wrangle my living companions into a family group costume and this year was no exception. Because I wanted to do something easy, I convinced my kids that we could all be The Incredibles. Sure, it’s been done, but it would be fun to be a superhero family who runs around putting out dumpster fires! Plus, I figured it couldn’t be too hard to find some red clothes and slap on some black masks.
Well….after some online shopping and price comparison, I realized that buying all the materials to make 4 Incredibles was going to cost about 2-3 times as much as the premade ones. Soooo, I found myself giving in because 2020 has sucked all my energy. I filled my Amazon shopping cart with the costumes we’d need and then I headed to the local Halloween popup store to see what they had. I called my husband from the store sounding frantic because I was second guessing what I was about to do; my husband probably thought I had been in a car accident or something.
Me: Brian! The store doesn’t have all we need! I’ll need to get some on Amazon!
B: Then do that.
Me: But what if they don’t fit!! And this one’s too expensive! Do the kids even want to be The Incredibles anyway?!
B: Just come home. Are you okay?
Me: I’m not okay! Nothing about this is okay! Do we need any more fake blood? Maybe I’ll just use my own.
B: What? Put down the knife and come home. I’m hanging up now.
The takeaway here is that 2020 has also zapped my ability to make any kind of decision.
It’s true that originally my kids wanted us to be characters from Frozen. We haven’t done that Disney movie yet for Halloween, and my kids are still obsessed. I had originally vetoed the idea because there was no way I’d be able to make all those costumes during Covid when I can’t spend hours at Goodwill like I usually would. But. Now I was considering…gulp…buying premade costumes. I was this close to pulling the trigger on the premade Incredibles when the ghost of Covid Halloween came to me and said, hey. hey you. put down the knife and look at me. first of all, there is such a thing as too much blood in a Halloween display. please. let’s keep this classy. second. you’re allowed to buy premade Halloween costumes during Covid. I give you permission. make your kids happy.
And that’s how I was finally able to buy an Olaf costume for my son, an Anna costume for myself, and spruced up an Elsa costume that had been given to us for my daughter. My husband was to be Kristoff, but those costumes were super expensive, and so my mom came to the rescue! She bought a quarter zip black jackety thing, took out the zipper and sewed on the fake fur and burgundy trim. We used the same fabric for his chic burgundy sash. Lastly, my mom fashioned some awesome curly-toed bootie out of felt and fake fur that strapped on over his normal shoes. He added a black beanie and bam! We were set.
As soon as these decisions were made, I felt so much better. Not only were we gonna be what my kids actually wanted to be in the first place, but I realized that I was gonna get to play a Disney princess for the first time in my life!! And not just any princess – one of my favorites!
What was better still was that we were able to plan and enjoy socially distant Halloween fun that made the holiday feel just as fun and festive as any other year. I helped plan and execute a mini parade where families watched from their parked cars, and on Halloween night we did a treasure hunt fully masked with some friends.
One thing that continually brings me hope during Covid is how humans refuse to give up. So many of us are making the most of this situation and we’re finding the most creative ways to still have fun and be as safe as possible.
A dumpster fire, you say? Let’s all sit around it and roast our fucking marshmallows. I hope everyone had a happy and safe Halloween!