10/7/2024 | 0 comments
When I was in my teens, looking younger was annoying.
When I was in my 20s and 30s it didn’t matter.
When I was in my 40s I used to get a kick out of being told I didn’t look it.
Now that I’m in my 50s (albeit early 50s) I don’t hear it anymore.
I blame the kid. She’s cute & I love her to pieces but 5 yrs of sleep deprivation, especially in your late 40s, takes a toll.
Looking exhausted =/= young. 😂😂
7/3/2024 | 0 comments
I’ve always thought about family - what it is, what we learn from it, how we survive it. This hasn’t changed since becoming a parent. Now I think about what kind of family I’m building for my daughter. More than ever I wish we had more extended family in the area because I imagine that only having me for most of the time must be lacking. She’s only five so of course she hasn’t said much about the matter. But she’s a smart, observant kid and occasionally I’ll get questions about why she doesn’t have siblings or father. Somehow in picking a daycare I seem to have chosen one where it seems as if we’re the only single parent household. I could be wrong, obviously, and it’s not as if I can stop each parent I see to ask. But in the 3 years we’ve been there all I seem to see are 2 parent homes (and each traditional in the mom/dad variety).
Family is an interesting thing if you think about it. I made a choice to become a parent but at no point did I poll the other family members to ask if they were interested in becoming an aunt or uncle. That my mother was ready to be a grandparent is such a cliche that it’s not even worth mentioning.
I often wonder if I’d had a more functional upbringing, if these questions would even occur to me. A more stable, happy childhood would maybe have wired my brain to not even question that of course family is always happy and ready to expand. Which isn’t to say, of course, that people in any way resent their new roles. But it is a curious thing, especially in this day and age where we are all learning the importance of consent to say, hey, you had no say in this but now you have to be the best aunt/uncle ever!
I’m told I’m weird to think these things.
But I’ve been told I’m weird all my life so this is nothing new.
I don’t know that this is the most articulate post ever, it may not make any sense at all. It will do for now. From the moment I started blogging 24 years ago, I’ve struggled in deciding what and how much to share. So many years later and that hasn’t changed. And yet, I still have this desire to have this online home. Weird. So we’ll see. At the rate I’m writing, I’m probably on track to post about 3 times a year. Makes you wonder what I get out of this, if anything. Maybe that will be the focus of the third post. I suppose we’ll have to see…
9/6/2023 | 0 comments
In 2014 I was fortunate enough to be able to move in with friends to cut down on costs. This was much needed because the multiple cross country moves, being unemployed for a brief period and, yes, some questionable financial decisions had left me with more debt than I was comfortable carrying. By then I knew I would be trying to grow my family at some point and I couldn’t imagine embarking on that journey with such a financial deficit hanging over my head. Thankfully I had Sam around who didn’t mind taking in a hermit for a roommate.
So that’s the quick background. Let’s fast forward a bit to 2015 and the cancer diagnosis and treatment. As we know, since this isn’t a ghost typing this, the surgery took care of the physical problem. But I was left emotionally, uhm, not well let’s say. So I turned to the time honored therapy known as retail therapy. Which you might think was counter productive given my goal of paying down debt. But my expenses were so minimal (I mean, Sam even let me use his car when I didn’t feel like renting one) that I was able to make significant dents to the debt and still buy an embarrassing amount of clothes. And I do mean embarrassing.
There was a period where I don’t think a day went by when there weren’t multiple packages waiting for me in front of my bedroom door.
And if you’re a woman or a person who is always thinking she needs to lose weight you’ll likely connect with the idea of buying motivational clothing. The thing that’s one or two (or in my brain addled drepessed state, three or four) sizes too small because you’re going to lose the weight and it’s 80% off so practically free so how can you not buy it!?!*
So yeah. This means I have a closet and several storage bins full of really pretty clothes that is essentially my own personal store.
All this rambling brought to you by the fact that some recent weight loss (please don’t mention it. I don’t share that for any acknowledgment.) had me dipping into my clothes stash. I was able to add 8 (!) new skirts and 3 new dresses to my wardrobe. That’s both fun and also a little cringey. I acknowledge that.
And this also means I can go through and see what doesn’t fit and either donate it or put it aside for alterations.
So, yeah. That’s my Friday so far. I took the day off because I’m tired and I could. I may go to the movies later. I don’t know. I gotta check to see what the matinee prices are. Those silly things never go on clearance, huh? 🤪🤪
*Despite the loss of rational thinking, I only purchased things that were final clearance. If it wasn’t at least 75% off I didn’t consider it. That was some of the justification and that I was still on track according to my debt reduction spreadsheet meant at the time I felt okay about it all. Because, hey, cancer! Whatever, etc etc.
3/11/2016 | 0 comments
For as long as I can remember, I’ve experienced sharp, lucid dreams; dreams in which I am aware that I am dreaming. In doing some reading about this, I’ve read that some people have reached the point where they can direct the dreams. I’ve never tried to accomplish this. One, because I’m not sure how one would go about doing that. Two, while they happen often enough, they don’t happen so often that this is top of mind for me.
Some of the dreams can be fun. There was the one where I was a superhero and was kicking badguy ass left and right. I had a super cute superhero suit and super speed. The part of me that was aware that I was dreaming thought, “Cool. It’s like my own little comic book movie!”“
While other dreams are emotionally intense and leave me quite disoriented upon waking. Like the dream within dream where my dream baby died. I remember thinking, while dreaming, that it was an awful dream and I wanted very much to be able to wake up so I tried to do that. I woke up relieved that the awful dream was done and that my baby was well. The part of my brain that knew all of this was just a giant mind game knew things were still not right. So when I finally woke up from this multi layered brainscape I had to work hard at understanding my reality. “Wait. Do I have a baby? Is my baby dead? No, right. I don’t have a baby. Thank god that was a dream.”
There I lay in bed, both relieved and sad that I had no baby to lose but still wishing my life wasn’t child-less. Can I tell you how hard it is to process that many feelings and sense of confusion so early in the morning and still get up with some energy to get to work? I probably don’t have to tell you. You can probably guess.
I was told I had cancer on a Friday morning, as I’ve previously shared. Friday, January 22nd to be exact.
And from that day on, for about two months, I woke up every day with the feeling that that call had been a dream. All of the fear, the tears, the confusion, the anger, the grief; it all seemed surreal. So surreal that I was certain at any moment I would wake up thinking, “My god. That was the most detailed dream I’ve ever had!”
Each day there was the waking up with the confusion and the slight hope that this horrible thing would magically go away. Each day I was forced to accept that this was my life now. It’s gotten better; I don’t wake up every day believing the cancer was a dream but it would be a lie to say that, even a year out and with a clean bill of health, I don’t sometimes wonder when I’m going to wake up and be able to put this nightmare behind me.
3/3/2016 | 0 comments
I turned 43 yesterday. For as long as I can remember, I have enjoyed my birthdays. Even when I didn’t have anything planned and spent the day alone which made me a bit sad, I still managed to feel generally happy about the day. This year there was no anticipation, there was no joy, just sadness.
It’s a strange place to be in to have to feel grateful that the fertility assessments were the things that made it possible to catch the endometrial cancer. There’s no way to know if I’d feel any less sad, any less lost and grief stricken if a regular doctor’s visit had caught the abnormal results. I just know that I spent a long time thinking that maybe this year would be the year that I’d have a baby or be trying for a baby. Instead, I’m just one year older, infertile, and living under a cloud of sadness. Which isn’t to say there aren’t good moments. Oh, there are. Thankfully a good many of them. Underneath those moments, however, are always the undercurrent of grief, sadness, and this vague sensation of being without purpose.
But, I’m still here, right? I’m a few months away from paying off a ridiculous amount of debt I’d racked up in the last decade and by this time next year I expect to be living on my own again. In the summer or early fall I’ll make appointments with the appropriate people and start exploring my adoption options so that too is something to be hopeful for. So there are things to look forward to. I just have to keep reminding myself of that and things will be - if not fine - at least okay.
2/2/2016 | 0 comments
Someone was telling me recently that he felt an obligation to attend a social function.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because…”
“Are you friends? Do you care above the normal ‘I wish everyone well’ level of caring about this person’s future? Because if you don’t, then I don’t see the need to go. And by going you’re actually giving the person the impression that there is a friendship here and you shouldn’t do that.”
There was a little bit of back and forth which ended with, “Patricia, you’re mean!”
This is not the first time I’ve heard this. It likely won’t be the last. I know how I am perceived, I know I’m not perceived as the nicest apple in the playground. I am okay with that because I am not actively mean. I do not actively seek to hurt people. I take pride in not being a “mean girl”.* However, because - like any good introvert - superficial connections are something I dislike and avoid, I don’t see the need to push myself to do something when there isn’t a true established connection.
But, Patricia, you’re saying, what about social niceties? You’re right. We can’t ignore them, they’re important in a civilized society, if you don’t want people acting like narcissistic heathens. I encourage people to behave in mannerly ways. I hold the door open for someone if they’re immediately behind me. I put my hand in harms way to stop the elevator doors closing if I see someone rushing to get in the elevator. I give up my seat for someone who seems to need it more. These things I do because they should be done but I don’t for one second imagine that this has established a connection, the person I just gave my seat to are not suddenly BFFs. Why do we feel this need to label everyone as a friend? Does this mean we can only be nice to friends? What’s the harm in doing something nice for a complete stranger knowing that you’ll probably never see them again?
Having and using good manners does not mean you have to try and be friends with every single person you’ve ever met. Who has the time and energy for that? Plus, there’s an authenticity to simply doing something for the sake of doing it and not because it may win us popularity points. Which is why I balk at pretending to be friends with someone who I’m not friends with. If I do that, in my mind, I’m diluting my true friendships. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just trying to rationalize being selfish with my time. Maybe deep down I mind that people label me as mean or bitchy.
I’ll ponder that some more later when I’m home enjoying my time and not out forcing myself to have superficial interactions that don’t add positive energy into my life.
*Though, of course, anytime I write that I take pride in being something or not being something, I immediately think of several examples of moments when I was or wasn’t the thing I’m saying I take pride in. But, hey, I’m human, I am flawed. I am a work in progress. I can aspire to be something while at the same time acknowledging that there are areas of improvement. Moving on, or, since this is a footnote, moving back.