More on My Mental Health

Last night a friend texted me. She’s the kind of friend who composes lengthy missives describing what’s going on in her life. We don’t text every day, but when we have time. Or when we remember. Sometimes a week or two pass before one of us responds to the other’s most recent texts. Which is fine, because when we do text, we are thorough. She’s a much better writer than I, but I often reciprocate in length and efforts at thoughtfulness when I reply to her.

When I received a series of long texts from this friend last night, she asked how my June was doing, and that it took a long time before a certain difficult month for her became significantly less difficult.

That’s when it hit me.

My erratic sleep. My lack of motivation. My blanking out a lot of the time. My distraction.

I replied that she just might have gotten to the bottom of my depressive behavior.

My subconscious self still seems to be grieving.

Coming off that very first day of June–our wedding anniversary but also that extremely mournful day in 2019–a lot goes on this month that trigger layers of different feelings.

That’s the main cause, and that’s what makes the most sense. I generally love summer. The heat. The sunshine. All the quality time with loved ones. But June this year feels off. I don’t know if I’ve processed things enough, or if I have guilt from not moving on or moving on too quickly. Or that I have grief appropriation: she wasn’t my mom, but my feelings somehow can’t compare to Carla’s actual relatives.

And I know I shouldn’t be comparing feelings. And I have feelings about that.

Anyway, I guess sadness waxes and wanes, and this month in particular is waxy. And has a high pollen content.

I’m so exhausted.

May 25

I didn’t do a lot today, but I am exhausted.

This evening we went to dinner to celebrate Reilly’s nephew’s high school graduation. That guy is so smart and talented. He’s gonna go far. We’re all so proud of him.

When I picked Z up from school today, her teacher told me that Z had cut off some of her hair. It wasn’t a lot, just a small lock, like something she would keep in a scrapbook. It’s not even all that noticeable, and totally something she would wait until the end of the school year to do. Teaching moment first. Funny later.

She still teaches me more than I teach her.

Today is the anniversary of George Floyd’s death. His murder. It’s been on my mind, and I’ve spent the past year changing my mindset and changing behaviors. I’ve learned of his family, his legacy. The continuous racial injustice. As a society, we still have a long way to go. As a person who has barely scratched the surface of understanding, it’s important for me to keep learning.

Everyone needs to keep learning.

And do better.

Humanity depends on it.

Tired, but I don’t know if I can sleep.

Gotta try.

From the Instagram Archive: November 12, 2018

I’m exhausted, so I’m recycling content from another social media platform. And maybe because I’m so épuisée, I’m especially emotional. Which is okay to be. But I’m seriously about to fall asleep. Good night.

This is a newer article than the original post. It seems a pretty good general overview of stuff I read for work. This image links to the PDF of the article, if you’re interested in reading.

Helpless.

I read about cancer every day.
It’s my job, curating data for a database for an app that pathologists use to help diagnose cancer.
I hate cancer. I hate what it does to families, friends. I hate how it crushes them. I hate how helpless I feel, when I see friends whose parents have passed on because of it; when Reilly’s mom feels so nauseated and has to stay in bed after a round of chemo. That it has become a new normal over the past two years. But she gets up and lives the best she can. She takes a deep breath and finds the strength to smile despite everything. Nausea. Weakness. Mouth sores. She makes Sunday dinner and we eat together and laugh. And before we head home we ask about the upcoming week’s treatments or tests—another new normal. We make sure to pray for her.

While my job has no direct impact on her situation, I make sure to do my best at it. It’ll help someone.

So, not completely helpless.

Hey, Interwebs, What Conclusions Can I Draw from How You Come upon My Site?

I Guess You Had to Be There?

I need to recap a conversation. My friend, Deena, the one who posted that video of me and her simulating an OK Go video, talked with her cousin. Her cousin saw the video. She and Deena talked about it on the phone. Her cousin asked who the little girl was in the video. Her cousin asked if Deena was babysitting. Deena explained it was her friend, May. Deena asked her cousin if she wanted to know how old I am. Her cousin said, sure. Deena said, 33. Her cousin said, Oh, 23? Deena said, no THIRty-three. Her cousin said, Wow, I hope I age that well. Deena recounted this story to me, and I laughed until I almost cried.

I did explain to her the night before that sometimes when I’m with friends on the subway, I’ll ask one of them in a little girl voice, Can you please help me find my mom? It turns a few heads. And for some reason I think that’s hilarious.

It’s time for bed. And, it’s time to sleep in. I am so pooped. Internet, I promised to catch you up on some things. If you want to know about other things, we’ll have to converse in person or via phone or personal email.

Seminary graduation was tonight. Never a prouder moment. I’m really going to miss my class.

Goal

It’s 9:45 pm right now.

I’m getting to bed by 10 pm.

You don’t think I can do it, do you?

My body says otherwise.

My joints have a dull ache.

Slightly drippy nose.

Something is piercing my right temple from the inside.

Throb. Throb.

My throat is a bit scratchy.

Mind, surrender. Body has the advantage this time.

Mind, you know you could use the rest, too.

I’m gonna meet my goal.

Good night, y’all.

Misplaced

Every morning this week I have woken up with a headache. It comes and goes during the day, but mostly stays away, then it returns in the evenings. I think exercise has reached a critical point, where my metabolism and my body have to come to an agreement. If my body is going to get in better shape, it needs more rest. I’m eating better; I’m back to working out four times a week. I feel pretty healthy, still drinking at least half a gallon of water a day.

I hope rest is all I need. I have no other explanation for my blah-crankiness and desire to wring people’s necks. I’m kind of sick of trickle-down economics, and at the same time, I don’t want the truly lazy people in this country taking advantage of a system that people like my mom and brother and anyone else who works like crazy but comes nowhere near the top 5% income level could benefit from. Because that’s my impression of what a lot of people on welfare do.

I’m not watching any political ads. I AM checking factcheck.org regularly, though.

Well, to make myself feel better, I’ll post a couple photos of me and a cute boy. This is my friend, Luke, and we see each other about twice a year. He happened to be on the Hudson River cruise this past Saturday, so we hung out a bit, which was great.

The cruise was fun.
The cruise was fun.

My license put to good use. The boat was a little hard to steer.
My license put to good use. The boat was a little hard to steer.

Okay, people. My eyes are burning. My naturalization interview is next week, and I just spent the evening looking for my passport. I can’t find it. I thought I put it in the binder with my other important papers, but it’s not there. I could really use some prayers and positive vibes in that regard. I promise I won’t punch you or wring your neck. I’ll give you a great big hug instead.

Dull Pulse

The grey settles. The darkness surrounds. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to find rest. I sleep or stay awake to either extreme. It’s hard to focus. Rumbling deep. Shadows lurk. Headache intensifies. Excedrin Migraine? It’s not like that. Just toss me some color. Even a scrap. And a little daylight. Expand my lungs. Make my dreams bright and laughter happy. It’s hard to focus.

But I will try.