I can't get any work done.

Part of me is saying "You're putting a lot on yourself this week! It's okay! You're doing your best!"

Another part is saying, "Good luck ever being sucessful in a career the way you treat this certification, not to mention anything you say you're going to do."

OCD is fucking with my life a lot these days. A lot. So many days I end up getting only 20 minutes, 10 minutes, 0 minutes of coursework done because something triggered me to look at the news and there just is no quick way of doing that. I can't stop once I start, and my heart races, I get a little sick feeling and it usually derails my whole day. It derails my feeling of personal safety of safety of my family. I have no ability to deal with this. I can't fathom what this year is going to be like. It's really scary. I want to be hopeful. My work on my recovery is my proof that I have hope. My refusal to stop doing activism and volunteering altogether is proof that I have hope. But I have this problem, this disorder. It's attached itself to a juggernaut and I don't know how to fight it.

I don't think this is a public post. Maybe I'll cut and paste some of it for a public post. I am really struggling with my brain, and honestly my body too right now. At this time, all of these meetings and reading and things I am doing for my recovery is sending me one message in particular, more than any others..."Why are you depressed? You have it all. Today." And I guess it's the today part I continue to struggle with. I can't stop worrying about tomorrow. Next month. Next year. Next week is a bit worrisome too if I'm being honest.

I felt like a world of pressure was on my shoulders yesterday, and so I guess I just collapsed. Today my goal was to remember, one step at a time, what is the next step? So I drank water, I haven't eaten anything bad for me yet and I got some work done during this nap time. Not enough but maybe tomorrow I can get some more in than today. I have to get my act together. I don't know why I'm so depressed, other than the knowledge of horrific things happening every day, at the indirect hand of our government, and the terror of what can happen to the government later, God forbid. Maybe that's all it is. But how long can I stay like this? I don't know how to make sense of it. It would help if I took it one day at a time. I've never been guaranteed safety tomorrow, and never will. But I think my mind has found it easy to cling to this particular fear and make the rest look irrational. Like 'why would you worry about that stuff? It's always been a possible threat, and you can't do anything to stop that.' I don't know. Today, I'm not terrible, but I'm not good. That's ok. Not terrible is okay today.

I haven't looked at the news today. I did look at Brian Derrick's story but he's just talking about a show he saw at Lincoln Center. Yesterday I made two meetings, called my sponsor, did some step work, read some literature and actually made a phone call. My sponsor wants me to call two people every day, but I'll be honest that's ridiculous. No, I'm in no place to be turning down suggestions but for some reason I'm terrified to call people in na and when do I really have that time anyway? I have to take baby steps with this one. I called someone yesterday, I left a voicemail and I'm going to try her again today. It will be fine.

I just can't get past the thought that our government is funding this war. What will be too far for them? I honestly thought this was Republican shit. No, I didn't think Biden was a great man who wouldn't do anything shitty, but again, where is the fucking line?

I'm so sorry to these people. No, I don't have real responsibility for this but it feels like it. It feels like I've done something very wrong and these poor innocent people are paying for it. Wow is that self-centeredness or what? But I'm just really in horror about this shit and yes, I'll be honest, I'm worried about how it could affect us.

Okay I just checked the news. Maybe I can't stop yet. But I won't check again today. I just have to know if anything changes that shows a little bit of hope. I hate being fixated on this but I believe ignoring is worse.

I know, future me or imaginary reader, it's been so long I had no idea how to login. I can't focus on my coursework. I told myself no more checking the news, only Brian Derrick's instagram story on good new Fridays. If something significant happened I'll find out. But I keep going back. I keep thinking and thinking and checking and obsessing. It's the same every day but I've wasted a lot of my precious time to work on finishing this fucking course, and perhaps other productive things to look for something I know isn't there. It's a new compulsion. It's as insane as looking under a couch for forgotten pills that never existed. What's different this time about my worries for us is that there is a current horrific event happening that could be stopped or lessened greatly and they just won't do it. Or what's really different is that it's a democratic president and Senate that should be doing something this time. I'm not talking about history, I'm talking about my shamefully short amount of time having any idea of what's going on in the world. I'm so scared. I'm so scared throughout the day, every day. I'm so sad for these people. I'm so confused why the world is so dreadfully unfair. Unbalanced, unequal. I don't understand how to live in the present with any positive state of mind when all you can think is 'but aren't we doomed? I mean what are we doing here?' I chose to have a child and she is incredible, so I fake most of my day that I'm not panicking, wondering, worrying, trying so hard to keep it together. I don't know how to give my own life enough meaning. I can't even do an hour of coursework, I just end up spending all of it looking for some good news that clearly isn't here yet. Yet. I guess I still have hope. I want there to be some possibility that our fucking government will not keep supporting this. I want there to be a very clear path to defeating the fucking freak next November. I want. I want to do the right thing. I want to be less selfish. I want to be able to talk to people about this but it just doesn't seem to be helpful for anyone. Who wants to hear this shit? Who can possibly help me to deal with it? Not my therapist. I've turned to my recovery in a new way, I have the gift of desperation and I want to be so different. I want to learn to live in the day. I want to experience my baby's first years with some gratitude and joy and not just terror in my mind.

Like I said, I told myself I wouldn't be looking at the news today and I very much did. I don't know how the rest of the day is going to go. I told myself I would make a phone call to a fellow na member today. I know I'll make a meeting, I'll do a little step work, I'll call my sponsor. I'll make dinner for the family. I don't know what to do about this new compulsion. Maybe I'll check back in here about it tomorrow.

In 2016 I knew I had to get serious about activism and boy did I try. I talked to my friend Dan today ( again who I am explaining my life to?) and he said I dated the activism world or something to that effect. I really did try to find a place for myself in this horrific world where I could least know that I’m putting a regular effort towards helping people. It’s at the point now where I don’t think much about “change” because even though I know good change is possible, I don’t have a fucking clue how it will happen at this point so all I can do is try to help people who are being hit. It’s been lonely though. I haven’t stuck and stayed with any one cause or group because there’s no community.

I just need regular human interaction to stay involved. I need to find a group that will keep me connected through friendship. I feel like an asshole for saying I can’t stick with a helping cause unless I get something out of it, but I need guidance. I need to discuss things with other people and have people to go through this stuff with. It’s too hard to do alone. I really hope I can bring this to my life somehow. I hope just writing it here plants a seed.

Yeah it’s been about six months. I never think about writing and I wish I did. I mostly think about eating.

I was motivated to visit here because I can’t believe how adorable my daughter is. Today we went to my husband’s (why am I calling him that, NO ONE READS THIS BUT ME) aunt and uncle’s house to visit with them and with his aunt’s parents. It was an important gathering because we never see them with Covid and her father (usually known as GP) is undergoing a leg amputation this week and we wanted everyone to see August and be cheered up a little bit. She couldn’t have been more sweet and angelic. She had a name for everyone and wanted to be friends especially with Lisa’s parents. It was just the sweetest thing ever. She’s so adorable, I can’t deal with it. She just melts my heart every day with her smiles, her songs, her dramatic readings, her new little neck hugs, I could go on forever. She brings so much joy in this hideously dark time. I hope I can always make her happy.

Oops I did it again. Forgot I had a blog. But I’m not quitting yet, so now I’m stronger. See what I did?

This is rather frustrating because the only way I can write in this right now is with my phone, and I have recently let my nails grow really long which has changed the way I type. And by that I mean it’s fucking up my typing.

Well anyway it occurred to me I haven’t written in awhile so here it is. I have a lot of plans right now and they’re all very difficult to get going. I’m putting forth effort but not much progress is happening. I’m still trying to get my work hours approved toward my counseling license, I’m trying to start a community service position that has been complicated, and I decided to start a YouTube channel but I really have to spend some time doing research before I can start. I also started the physical therapy and then immediately had to stop because of yet another Covid situation at Cris’s shop. I’m not going to give up though.

August is absolutely incredible. She’s just a constant day of sunshine. She is the sun actually. She’s saying a few words, Mama is proving difficult but she just started saying a version of it that comes out like “mmbaba.” She’s learning some signs and she’s getting into some make believe play. She eats a lot, sleeps great and she’s a champ at coping with teething. She loves music and still loves Sesame Street. Anything with Muppets seems to make the cut. Right now she’s also into throwing balls, and also her food. Just on the ground, not at anything. She’s hilariously funny and when she sees new people she approach them and say hi, sometimes immediately. I just love her so much I can barely take it.

Cris is doing well, just super busy at work and starting to play music again. We’ve been in a good place for awhile and taking a little more time to be together just the two of us. We’ve been away from him for about a week and I’m missing him.

Alright nothing attempting to be poignant today, that’s all.

It’s Saturday night and tomorrow is Mother’s Day, my first as a mom. My family has been so thoughtful already. My brother sent me flowers, my parents came over today and my dad is coming back tomorrow. My mom is sleeping over. Cris has clearly cooked something up, I don’t know what. I just didn’t have such expectations. I’ve transitioned into a mom for sure, I didn’t think about receiving gifts or being fussed over at all, I only thought that I might get a good nap.

The occasion has me really thinking about how grateful I am. I love that little girl like nothing I’ve ever loved in my life. I love that she is so ecstatic about life. She loves to move her body and listen to new sounds and be around people. I overflow with pride watching her feed herself chickpeas and broccoli. I can’t stand the sound of her cry and I would only listen to the sound of her laugh and nothing else for the rest of my life. I always wanted her. She is more than a dream come true. Being a mom is a job that I take much more seriously than any of the other jobs I’ve had and it feels like a calling. Im so grateful that I get to share her with Cris and my family and Cris’s family and we get to all be obsessed with her together. It just makes any regular day feel like a special occasion. Getting her took years of sacrifice and a lot of pain and tears but it was so worth it. I feel truly happy right now.

I felt like writing something and then I read my last entry. What a bummer. I’m actually feeling a little better about the weight thing. I’ve been sticking to it and I’m down 5 pounds. I feel stupid even writing about that. But I am proud of myself for being real about my situation and just doing what has to be done to change it.

In general things are up and down as always. August is incredible. She’s nothing like me and I love it. Well we do have the same face but she chooses to smile with it all the time. She’s so social and always smiling and waving at everyone. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. And her tenacity is so amazing to me. She just never gives up and never stops moving. I suppose I could claim one of her qualities, her sense of humor. She loves to be silly and knows when she’s being funny. I love her so much.

Cris and I had a really nice time together yesterday. I’m looking at us now as trying to figure out our relationship as new parents. We will always work on not just being happy together but being really in love. It’s a work in progress.

Okay I’m going to watch Daria and go to bed.

I’ve been on weight watchers for a week now. I used to be on and off of it constantly. The first time I went on was hen I was 13. This is the longest I’ve been off any sort of weight loss plan for a long time. It was nice to not worry about it. When I got pregnant I was trying to eat healthy and not overeat. Then the morning sickness started and it was all about eating whatever I could stomach. I lost ten pounds and even though it was not worth the pain, I was relieved that I was getting a head start.

I didn’t gain much weight in pregnancy compared to what everyone told me they had gained. But after she was born I got my appetite back and had to deal with being a first time mom in a pandemic and so long story short in the past 8 months I’ve gained back nearly what I lost In the first couple weeks. I’m back at my heaviest weight again (just about) and it feels awful.

There are a few reasons it feels awful. There are practical reasons. The last time I got this heavy I started to have issues with my sugar levels. The doctor said she wouldn’t call me pre-diabetic but that I was getting close. I had high cholesterol and when I started dog walking later, despite being at least 20 pounds lighter, I discovered that I had been developing a heel spur, probably from excess weight on my feet.

That’s all bullshit though. I mean it’s true but it’s not what gets me down, it just adds to my shame. I hate the way I look. I give myself less value as a person when I’m heavier. There’s this podcast called Poog, and there’s an episode where they’re discussing the almost shameful pleasure of looking at people’s “before and after” photos. And one of the hosts, Jacqueline, says that the reason it fascinates us is because we are trying to fathom how the same soul could be within both physical versions of that body. That’s exactly what I experience, it’s almost like I’m thinking “how could that desirable, productive, person who matters also be that lazy piece of shit?” And that’s how I feel about myself. My identity feels different to me based on what I weigh. I’ve been so many different sizes I have no idea what I should be. I just know when I see myself at this weight I see a bloated version of myself. And I see someone who doesn’t matter as much. Who is less of a person. I don’t even want to dress nice or be seen when I’m heavier. I worry about how people judge me, even people whose opinion on any other subject means nothing to me. Sometimes it’s those people more than anyone else.

And it fucks with my relationship. I can’t let him see me as attractive if I see myself as revolting. I don’t believe he finds me attractive this way. I truly don’t. And that is crazy making.

This is a lot to put myself in the first year of having a baby. I don’t feel like I have a choice though. I’m so all or nothing, if I don’t work on losing weight I just gain it. And I can’t gain more. I will feel so much more terrible. I think I’m done writing.

I totally forgot I had this blog for awhile. That’s probably one of the reasons I’m a blog quitter. But not yet this time.

I have to say while things are still pretty groundhogs day like, they’re also picking up lately. My parents have been getting to spend a lot of time with the baby which was something I was anxious about happening. My mom visits for a few days at a time and my dad has been coming by once a week. She gets to spend time with my mother in law and sister in law too. I don’t know why I would call them that, like there are people reading this who don’t know them by name. Or anyone besides me. Anyway, it’s been good and I’m starting to look forward to spring a little bit.

August is CRAWLING. I did not expect her to crawl at less than 7 months old but she is one determined little goo. She’s always on to the next thing. Like as soon as she could sit up she wanted to crawl. As soon as she could crawl she wanted to stand up. It’s really cool.

Something that continues to make me nuts is her sleep. She sleeps very well. We’ve been working at it and being as consistent as we could for two and a half months, which wasn’t always possible with the Covid shit. But every bad night, bad bedtime, bad nap gets me completely worked up. On one hand I get why the people in my life treat me like I’m overreacting. The other hand, none of them are or have been a stay at a home new mom in a pandemic. I have nothing to focus on but this baby and her progress. But also, I care more about this sleep thing than I ever expected and I’m not sure why it upsets me the way it does. I just want this hard work to be done and be paying off, because it is fucking hard.

I can’t wait to feel some normalcy again. Or is that long gone?

I think I’ve been living most of my life by looking forward. I can only deal with the present by imagining some better future. And what’s the catch there...? You guessed it, at what point does the future become the present and then you focus on it? Making sense?

There just isn’t much to look forward to right now and it makes me anxious and it makes me wish I could just be where I’m at. I’m loving taking care of my little bean but also every day is very similar to the last and that’s not a great feeling. I started meditating again, hoping I can get more in the present. But also how much should I be thinking about the future? I do want to get back to working when August goes to school and who knows what kind of creativity that will take. I’m haven’t worked outside of dog walking and baby sitting for about six years. My heart just sank, thinking about how close I was to finally getting my counseling hours verified before the pandemic. You know what, fuck it I’m going to email my old supervisor right now. Or should I call the state and see if they received it first..? That is a major task. I need a to do list.

What am I going to do for work? In an ideal world it would be working with babies, young children and moms and it would be serving the goal of dismantling white supremacy. I’ve been thinking about that more the past few days since Biden was inaugurated. There was a satirical article with the headline “local woman so relieved that racism is over again,” and it discussed how “local woman” didn’t need to worry about asking what businesses are black owned and other things that us well-meaning white knit wits do instead of actually helping anyone. I feel like the only way I can incorporate anti-racism into my daily life is to make it my actual job. Like giving free services to low income poc or working in a field that is specifically dedicated to helping poc get equity. Or volunteering, I mean thats what my mom is pretty much doing by volunteering with the innocence project. I think I need to start with getting that fucking counseling license.

I just don’t want to be complacent. Because the truth is I am relieved that Biden is President and that is just an illusion. Will he stop police brutality? Will he get these kids back with their parents? No. Regular people are going to have to make that happen. And I should be one of them.

I’m so fucking tired.

So tomorrow is set to be the last day Cris is home for us for a while. Another groomer at his shop got COVID and they now have a wait list of about 125 clients. I’m not even sure how that’s possible. She, the other groomer still has about a week left of quarantine. I will probably be having my mom here as much as she’s willing and maybe going to her house some but I don’t know.

These new strains are really scary. There just seems to be nothing being done to tighten up people’s insane behavior. I don’t want our business to have to shut down but something needs to be enforced. It’s just terrible. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I’m trying really hard to look forward to where we’re past this but it’s really hard when things are getting worse and people are not acting like it. This is generally a low time form me under normal circumstances. Wow. I really need to meditate again. There’s nothing I can do besides keep working on my positivity and learn to live one day at a time.

So it’s been a little bit since I wrote about the Christmas Covid disaster and yes we all have it. My brother didn’t get it, and my mom is still testing negative. But Cris, August and I all had/have it. My mom not getting it from my dad makes me wonder if we even got it from him. Who the fuck knows. So yeah, my infant got Covid, I still can’t really believe it. Thank God she did not take on any severe symptoms. Before any of us tested positive, besides my dad, she had a runny nose, a high temp but no fever, and she was pretty miserable for about a day and a half. It was every symptom of teething. But a tooth never came. So I don’t know, but I know that I took the best care of her possible and kept her as comfortable as I could. She’s a really tough kid. She didn’t even cry when they swabbed her nose, she just coughed and fussed for a second. I love her so much.

I do feel like I failed. We didn’t think for a second that my dad had Covid. I mean how many times can a person cry wolf? I know it’s not his fault, but I really think he needs to deal with this issue. But then again he has a lot of other things to deal with. That’s a whole other thing that I probably shouldn’t even write about here. I should say however that my dad was incredibly helpful to me while dealing with this situation. Not incredible really because that’s how my dad always is, just really great. When Cris tested positive I just took August out of the house and to my parents. We figured my dad just got over it so he’s safe and my mom would stay upstairs. Im not saying it was the smartest plan but I still couldn’t tell you a better one. We’re still concerned about my mom right now but so far she’s fine. Cris’s mom tested positive yesterday. Who knows how she got it. August had a really bad night last night probably because her sleep training had to be interrupted by this. If she was crying at 4 am I had to pick her up and make sure she didn’t have a fever. There’s no getting around that. But I also made a couple mistakes. We’re paying for it. I feel despair. That is what I feel. I so badly want to see light at the end of this tunnel. How sad is it that the only time you get to see your dad spend real time with his granddaughter is when he just got over a terrible virus and she has it? That’s really sad. I’m really sad. I want so much more for my baby’s life. She’s never met another baby, or another child. She’s never met most of the important people in her family’s life. My dad is missing out, my mom misses out, her other grandmother is missing out, her aunt and uncle are missing out. And she’s missing out on them. And I’m praying it doesn’t get worse for us before it gets better. Please don’t let it get worse.

I’m going to be annoyed I said all this and like, you know, documented it, later when I’m not feeling so grateful, but I’m doing so because I am indeed having a moment of gratitude. I’ve been making a point to at least jot down something I’m grateful for when I think of it, as well as writing a daily gratitude list (that is not so daily for me). This helps my mental health. It allows me to keep in mind that I have a lot to be grateful for. It actually helps me to scan for more positive and let go of more negative. My natural inclination is to just focus and hold on so damn hard to the negative. And I know how bad it is for me, and when I’m at my worst it’s also really bad for people around me. So I digress. As much as being a mom is way harder than being a dad and I have way less freedom and all that, I have to give it to my husband for doing a lot of the hard things. Every night unless he has to work late he puts her to bed. The whole routine, bottle, bath, book, bed. This is getting easier the longer we’ve stayed consistent but it still gives me anxiety and while he does it I put on noise cancelling head phones and do the dishes. I love not having to do bedtime. He even rearranged some things at work to make sure he is home to do the routine most nights. Anything I don’t want to do with the baby because it stresses me out too much, I just ask him and does it, no problem. There’s this cliche about dads being clueless and moms needing to train them over and over again at every task and we are no exception. But he’s so willing and cares so much and always wants to make things easier for me. August loves her daddy so much, the way she smiles at him is too adorable and I know that it will never be any different because he’s so good to us.

So there, a moment of gratitude in this hell fire that, SURPRISE EVERYONE, is not over just because 2020 is over. Sigh. I hope this shit ends sooner than later. Please.

Everyone is talking about what a hard, really what a relentlessly punishing year it’s been but mine started well before 2020 started. I had a miserable pregnancy. It started with non-stop nausea followed by hyperemesis that had me bedridden for three months. Then there was a brief break where I was still struggling but able to leave the house and function and thankfully we went on our annual (once annual) trip to Miami during that time. As soon as we got back the reality of COVID-19 became common knowledge and I had a lot of things to reckon with. I was back to never leaving my house for an indefinite amount of time, I was at risk of catching a virus that could (could it? No one really knew) be a danger to my baby, I couldn’t see anyone except my husband and eventually my mom, I wouldn’t be having a baby shower and almost no one would be meeting my baby when she was born. It was awful.

And then I stopped functioning again. It became a cycle I think. Paralyzing anxiety and depression caused more fatigue and sickness, which caused more depression and so on. I was so physically uncomfortable all the time that I never wanted to be touched. Cris had to basically take care of me while accepting that I couldn’t be myself. My mom says I was silent most of the time, but I had no idea because it was so loud inside my head. I wanted to go to protests, I wanted to do the right thing and get back to activism and advocacy. But I couldn’t do anything. I could barely have a conversation.

And then the baby came and for a little bit I had that pink cloud that some new moms get in the first few days. I was so incredibly happy. She was here, my DAUGHTER, and she was beautiful and so tiny. But of course taking care of a newborn infant is incredibly hard and postpartum hormones and sleep deprivation are hideous and things just continued to be relentlessly punishing for a while.

Truth be told, as for most of us, it’s not better yet. My dad has COVID and today I had a bout of nausea that made me decide to wait on line and get tested at one of the health and hospital facilities. My rapid test was negative fortunately but we’re obviously not out of the woods yet. I’m really scared. But at the same time, Cris is still off work and being in quarantine means his time off is extended, and despite my crushing fear and guilt, I am still so happy to just be with my family. I’m sad I didn’t get the days I was supposed to get with my whole family, but I have my husband and my beautiful girl and we love each other so much. I’m so grateful.

Sooo if anyone reads this, I should clarify something in case you are worried about my dad or wondering why I’m a monster who isn’t worried. I’m actually not worried about my dad getting very sick. He is 63 but he almost never gets actually sick and he doesn’t have any of the dangerous comorbidities or any health issues besides some medically controlled high cholesterol. His only symptoms are a slightly sore throat and fatigue. I feel confident it won’t get worse than that.