Deviant Dispatches

Let me start with this: Life is fucking hard and I don't blame you for skipping right down to the recipe. Lately (as in, since March 2020), it's been one thing after another. Staying home, avoiding people, doing what we thought was best for the kids, realizing that was not best for them or for us, and trying to survive hour to hour in the onslaught of anxiety, uncertainty, and decision fatigue. The kids are dealing with reintegration now, and it's hard in different ways for each of them. One is loving school and hates being at home, and the other doesn't know how to be social anymore. This morning, I felt tired, unappreciated, guilty, and broken all before 8 a.m. So I made cake for breakfast. The kids love pancakes, but the youngest only likes them with syrup or honey, and the oldest is never interested in a healthy side dish. Drop the "pan" though, and it's a different story. I added an extra egg to my favorite pancake mix, and poured it over a layer of f...

First of all, my postpartum depression post has quickly become the most viewed one I've ever written. You are all amazing - thank you for all the support. I hope that post has helped many of you in some way. Here's a bit of an expansion on that. I mentioned that I had two dreams that led to my decision to take meds; they were so vivid and spoke so clearly that I still recall them in detail seven months later. The First Tickle was two and a half months old, and I couldn't admit to myself yet that I was experiencing PPD. And then I dreamed. I saw a drawing. That was it: a simple drawing that could have been a cartoon clipped out of a newspaper. It was an alphabet quilt, colored in brown scale on a bright white background. Each square of the quilt was its own letter, with a corresponding animal family: A for alligator, B for bear, and so on. But in each panel, one parent played energetically with the child and smiled happily, while the other parent sat by themselves t...

Let me preface: I love my daughter. I have loved her since Day 1 (however you might measure that). I'm continually amazed at all the things about her - from the way she stared at everything so intently the moment she was born to all the shifts and changes as she's become a different person over the last nine months. She's incredible and studious and smart and adorable and (yes) perfect. I thought (hoped) it was just hormones at first. Then I thought it was just trouble adjusting to this big life change. Then I called it by its true name (at least, in my head) and tried to ignore it, and then hoped it would go away on its own. I'm sure many other mothers do this too. I felt so guilty for having postpartum depression. I also felt angry for so many reasons: I couldn't figure out how to do it right (because surely I was doing it wrong). Spousal Unit had (still has) a different parenting style than me and we had trouble compromising (largely because of the...

Parenting so far has been an adventure in ups and downs. Strength and Weakness of Body My daughter's birth went well. I was healthy throughout pregnancy and she was born with no complications. I'm still amazed at the fact that after she was born - after birthing a freaking child - they gave me ibuprofen, and it was enough to manage the pain. My body makes food for my daughter while I'm busy doing things like taking pictures or cleaning poop off the floor. I was able to function week after week without REM sleep. That said, the first week was a trip. I don't deal well with lack of sleep, even now that I have a three-month-old. In the first week, I got so dizzy from lack of sleep and weird hours that I nearly fell over several times. It was enough to make me feel nervous about carrying her from room to room; thankfully, Spousal Unit was home during that time as well. I also got a painful infection, and later that month, I was sick enough that I had to get two l...

Today, it is beautiful out. The sun shines on the side of the building, and I can imagine the warmth of the brick. I imagine from my desk the feel of heat radiating outward, warming my perpetually cold hands. I imagine sitting in my new house a week from now, with that same sun shining on me in the tea room as I curl up in a blanket, surrounded  by boxes. I imagine the bitter wind that comes wrapped in spring sunshine, a package deal. Its bite surprises, vicious in the face of such warmth. After the cold of months past, it is bare by comparison, but I keep my winter coat handy for a few more days. How is it possible, this comfort and this chill that makes me curl up on myself? How do they coexist so readily, so constantly, so wordlessly? I try to envision that balance in myself, to embody yin and yang. It must be there already, because what can exist without both? But I've turned a blind eye to evidence in the past. I've been known to ignore fact and contemplate my own fi...

Moving is a complex, stupid animal. There are a billion things to stress over and twice as many people to complicate things and get in your way. Throw in first-time home ownership, and it makes my usual level of worry seem like wondering what to have for lunch: inconsequential and minute. (Minute is my new favorite word lately, I think. Sorry. Or not sorry. Too busy worrying to parse it out.) In these times, destitute of peace of mind, I find two things helpful: writing and thinking about the positives. This at least temporarily gets my mind off the stress and helps me remember why I'm putting myself through such a terror-inducing process in the first place. In the new house, I won't have to worry about whether the landlord is going to charge us for replacing the carpet that the cats have demolished. I'll just have to either live with it or replace it myself, which means no reliance on someone else's fickle policies. (Thankfully, there's little carpet in the n...

It's been a while. The short explanation is stress and lots to do, but here's a long answer for those who enjoy hearing such things. Source 1. House hunting. Spousal Unit and I have pulled out the big guns and are cautiously stalking our prey, waiting for the right one to line up in our sights. Actually, I take that back. I'm the one using a gun, so that when the right house jumps in front of me, I can scream in terror and shoot a wonderful idea full of Holes of Terror and Second-Guessing. Spousal Unit is using a net, because he's more sensible about this stuff. As much as I'm great at being frugal, I find it impossible to recognize frugality in large purchases. No matter what I'm getting for the money, I can't help but feel shocked at the numbers. This includes computers, cars, and anything else you can't find in working order at Savers or Goodwill. Spousal Unit can recognize good deals in big numbers; I'm good at curling into a ball and a...

From the bedroom as he's getting ready, I hear Spousal Unit yell, "Mah mouth is bleedin', Bert!" This makes me smile. Allow me to explain. A few nights ago, we watched It's a Wonderful Life. I had hot buttered rum for the first time, which I loved (needs more butter). At the end of the movie, George first realizes that he's back in his own reality when he notices his mouth is bleeding, and Jimmy Stewart is such a delightful actor that Spousal Unit couldn't help wanting to imitate the way he said that line. That line epitomizes the feel of the whole movie, in some ways. George is happy to know his mouth is bleeding because he knows he's living the life he's supposed to be; in the midst of it all, he's once again surrounded by the blessings and troubles that make up his own life, and he knows the blessings outweigh the troubles. That's a great movie for when you're fighting depression. Even when I'm not depressed, that movie m...

The last couple of weeks have been rough. I'm in the middle of a tough bout with depression; I'm sure it's mostly based on the lack of sunlight. I was so excited for last weekend's solstice - almost more excited than I am for Christmas, because now the days will start getting longer, and I need my sunlight. I'm whatever the opposite of a vampire is. I've had issues with seasonal affective disorder in the past, but it seems especially bad this year (I'm a bad judge of this, though - I always forget how terrible it was to adjust to a move, or the last time I felt depressed). I have not worked on the novel in more than a month. I have not written at all since my last blog post, which was about how tired I've been feeling. I have not been reading either. All of you who know me know what a big deal all those things are to me. I've also been very tired, despite getting plenty of sleep, and highly irritable (poor Spousal Unit). I'm sharin...

Lack of sleep has made me loopy and zombified. To conserve energy, all I'm posting today are these cat pictures. Enjoy.

*This may be upsetting. Proceed with caution.* I haven't really been able to put this into words before, but I need to try. I get incredibly distressed anytime one person or a group decides to kill innocent people. I know this about myself, and I know I should stay away from news outlets, keep the TV off, ignore the radio dial, and distract myself with humor. I inevitably feel guilty for trying to get away from it, but the involuntary level of obsession I develop is destructive. I bury myself in humor for my own mental health. All the while, I'm still thinking about what has happened. I may be curled up on the couch with Spousal Unit to watch Big Bang, but I'm still worrying and upset even as I laugh. And even though I know I should keep the radio off (because if I turn it on, I have trouble going away from it), sometimes I can't help it. I obsess over learning what has happened, imagining how the people involved feel, and who would do such a thing. My best e...

I don't think I've ever blogged about religion, and I'm not about to start. (Despite the Buddhism book you see here.) Start Where You Are by Pema C hödrön Buddhism is a religion I associate closely with on a spiritual level, because it's about being nice to others and yourself. But I'm not Buddhist. I don't meditate, I don't believe the fables, and I don't pray to Buddha. But that doesn't mean I can't learn something from it. I've read before about people leaving little reminder notes for themselves around the house. I've seen them on bathroom mirrors - things that say, "Smile! You are beautiful." It seemed kind of cheesy to me, but after I started this book and found so many well-articulated sentiments in it, I decided to give it a try.  One of the sentiments in the early pages is, "Regard all dharmas as dreams." I always have a hard time grasping exactly what dharma is - no matter how many times I...

One of my pet peeves is the phrase "the real world." People use it all the time in casual conversation, as though some people live in a strange alternate dimension where things are fluffy and happy 24-7. As if just by not having a measured amount of responsibility, bills, or grim outlook on life, we are separate from the world, rather than part of it. I've hated this phrase for a long time - in part because someone once told me I wouldn't make it once I entered the "real" world. (Look at me now, beeyotch.) I guess the thing that bothers me most about it, though, is how the phrase typically is used toward kids. Now that I'm in this strange realm called "adulthood," I really and truly don't get how people could possibly forget what it was like to be a kid, because I still know it as clear as anything. Children are just like adults, but they are clean slates. They are learning about the world around them. They are not separate from it; th...

On Saturday, in a fit of restlessness, I headed out to the nearest department store. It wasn't that I'd been inside all day; on the contrary, I'd been to the Madison physics museum and the grocery store earlier. It was more of a desire to get out on my own for a bit while Spousal Unit engaged with video games and action movies I wasn't thrilled with at the moment. And so I went on a meager adventure. I'd not planned to buy much; after all, that was not the point of the trip. As long as I was there, however, we did need a tablecloth to conceal the unsightly mess below the living room table. We also needed a second set of sheets (yes, we only have one). And then, I somehow ended up in the makeup aisle. I've been noticing my age, lately. Not to say I'm getting old; I don't believe that at all. But the cells in my body are slowing their rejuvenation , and along with that come aches I never used to have, a desire to stay in when it's snowy out, and...

In Washington, D.C., everyone's concerned with the fiscal cliff right now. Come midnight on January 1, congress will either put unsatisfactory measures (according to everyone, I'm sure) into place, or the entire country will jump off the cliff like short-sighted, drunken lemmings. I'm not terribly worried about what will happen; everyone puts things like this off until the last possible minute, and then there's a cave-in by one or both parties. Even if that doesn't happen this time around, I still have a (personally) more pressing worry on my mind: that the fiscal issues we're facing will make lawmakers lose track of goals related to the Sandy Hook Elementary shootings in Connecticut. Here's what most concerns me. This is already a politicized issue. It was politicized within days of the shooting. Fine; such is life in this, our U.S. democracy. There appear to be two sides: people are either for stricter gun control, or they are for better, more acc...