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...

Every day, the sun sets. Right now, I can think of a dozen poems and a dozen poets right for the occasion. But I have no words of my own. It's one of those times when I'm glad for other writers in the world - people who've been there before me, to give voice to feelings I can't articulate. Their efforts are a soothing balm in difficult times, though they can't heal on their own. I could go on. I could consider the cyclical nature of life, delve into memory, pound out words with a soft fury that I don't understand. But the most peaceful thing right now is in knowing that the sun will set today, just like it has for millennia past. Not everything has changed. But enough has. *** I wrote the above a week ago, the day my grandma passed away. In some ways, it's still unreal. In others, I'm both relieved for her and devastated for everyone who loved her. Since then, I've been to her visitation and funeral and seen first hand all the lives she...

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...

Some days, I wake up tired. Tired of the day-to-day. Tired of eight hours, commutes, tiny unsolvable word problems. Tired of not being able to do it all at home. Some days, I'd rather stay in bed. Tired of cats knocking over plants, clawing carpet, biting the beads off of my skirts, using my hands as a launch pad. Tired of cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Tired of The Voice in my Head that says it's not good enough, you have to keep going, you have to do more, or else. Some days, I don't want to move for weeks. Tired of depression. Tired of bad feelings ambushing me on a beautiful day. Tired of little things making me into a Midwestern Hulk. Tired of remembering my faults for years on end. Some days, the sunrise takes that all away. On days when it doesn't, there's always poetry .

My poor Snoopy. Yesterday, while unwinding after work, the kitty Oberon was hanging out on the couch and decided that walking across the tiny end table to get to me on the other side was a great idea. It's not the first time he's had this idea, and usually, I shoo him off before he can get too far. This time, though, I was too absorbed in whatever I was doing. He stood his fat butt on the wrong side of this little three-legged table (it's supposed to have three legs), and he tipped the entire thing over. Among other items on this little table was my snow globe Snoopy, which hit the computer table and shattered, leaving shards of glass and glitter all over. I can't believe it bothered me so much, but it did: I sobbed. I've had it since at least college - maybe earlier - and it was a present from my mom. As I wrote about a few years ago , this little figurine has always been my little writing muse, a reminder that Snoopy hasn't given up on writing and n...

When I was a senior in high school, I finally obtained the coveted position of supervisor at the grocery store where I worked. It was a position I'd wanted to have for quite a while (in kid-time), but I couldn't legally until I turned 18. Those in charge were also reluctant for me to have the post because I was going to college in short order. But I convinced them, gaining all the privileges and responsibilities of the post. One night at the beginning of summer, when I was working the late shift, I noticed a woman in her late 30s moving through the aisles with one of our red baskets - the hand-held kind - and filling it with food. As this was a grocery store, that wasn't unusual in the least. What was unusual was how everything in the basket was buried under several plastic bags. I was the only authority in the store. My heart pounded as I watched her from the end of the aisle. What to do? According to my training, I was supposed to wait until she stepped out the door -...

Now that the Wisconsin recall election is over, I'd like to shed light on something many of us may not have considered in all this: money. You may say money has been a huge  part of this election. Walker raised over $30 million in his recall campaign, trying to buy a win. Everyone's been talking about it. But I'm not talking about it in that way. Consider the following: $30 million could... Send 30,000 ShelterBoxes to families in need of disaster relief. Each box contains a tent, water purification and storage, a toolkit, and many more items that are essential when a home has been demolished. Give 60,000 cows to families in need of milk, via Heifer International . One heifer provides four gallons of milk per day, enough for a whole family and then some - not to mention a yearly calf, too. Assuming a minimum of four people per family, that many cows could provide for 240,000 people - more than the entire population of Madison, Wisconsin . 20 years of main...

Some days suck for no good reason. Yesterday was one of those days for me. I was mentally tired all day, and little things kept getting to me. (In the light of a new day, they weren't that  little, and it's kind of reassuring to know they were things worth worrying over.) I struggled through the morning, and then fought my way through work. By the time I left at the end of the day, I decided that only a bottle of my favorite wine would make me feel better. So I stopped and got one, and it turned out that my favorite wine is not my favorite anymore. (Or maybe I got a bad bottle.) It made me want to throw things and break stuff and scream, but instead I just sat in bed with Spousal Unit and hated on crossword puzzles. On days when I can't figure out what set me off in the first place - days when I'm just a little down or need an extra hug and no one's around to give it - I always end up thinking of a particular poem. Reading it, while it doesn't cure anythin...

April is National Poetry Month . Now that the month is almost over, I ought to mention something about it. I love poetry anthologies, mostly for their element of surprise. You never know who you'll find in them, or which poem will be your new favorite (because the book isn't usually named after it). Some have themes, like love, or a certain author, or cultural tradition. Some anthologies are mostly terrible. But I believe that as long as an anthology introduces me to at least one great new poem or author, it's done its job. A Thousand Years of Vietnamese Poetry  (tr. Nguyen Ngoc Bich) is one such anthology. I discovered it at a used bookstore in downtown Eau Claire, which may or may not yet exist. The poems and poets provide an intriguing view of Vietnamese history, culture, and folklore. My favorite poem is an excerpt from "Sorrows of an Abandoned Queen" by Nguyen Gia Thieu. Speaking of her prince, the queen laments: And oh, within the screens, his awe...

As I wrote about yesterday, some days are harder than others. On days like that, being positive seems impossible, or at least much harder than usual. I know by now what things pep me up when I'm down, but it's one thing to know the cure is there and another to go for it. So writing all these things down provides a way to grab all the happy I can at once. Hopefully, this post can serve a similar purpose for you. Being creative is always a good start. Working on a craft focuses energy and results (often, if not always) in a feeling of productivity and accomplishment. It provides a way to get out all that negative energy in a constructive way. I usually write, as a way of understanding my thoughts and talking myself through them. The blog Write Out of Depression is no longer active, but provides wonderful prompts to get the words and happiness flowing. Humor is another helpful thing. Even if you aren't feeling it, seek out something to laugh over, and it will reach yo...

Alas, poor tape measure. It was a dear friend of mine. Hailing back to the days when I worked at The Country Today newspaper, it was one of few items I had that was hardcore, businesslike, and meant I was about to do some real work each time I freed it from my sewing cabinet. I used it for a plethora of activities. It helped me properly space nails. It suggested whether an item might fit in my car. It proposed alternate fuel methods for the world at large and solved the hunger problem in Almenistan. Which doesn't exist, but you catch my meaning. This tape measure was useful, practical, and made me feel generally more handy than I am. When something needed measuring, this bad boy let everyone know I was serious about it. With this tape measure, I was invincible. I had great visions in mind, of the two of us, years from now, measuring things for my children as they asked, "Mother, from whence hath this glorious implement hailed?" They may speak a bit differently; I'm j...

Last night, Spousal Unit, Kaelin, and I were watching a movie, and I heard a very loud... thing outside. I was fairly certain it was a bird. After its first few calls, I tuned it out, and we watched another twenty minutes of the movie. But during a quiet segment, I realized it had been making noise the entire time. I paused the movie. "Do you guys hear that?" They most certainly did. It sounded kind of like a tiny horse - the noise was very akin to a whinny, and very loud. Being the Adventure Squad that we are, we went outside to investigate. Lately, there have been many cars parked on our street because of nearby construction. For some reason, I thought maybe one of them had a trailer and had left a foal in it overnight. But this is Madison. Even though we saw a guy use the bike lane for his horse one day, I'm pretty sure there aren't people with horses in the nearby area. (But there are cows who contribute to Babcock Hall ice cream .) I went outside expecting to fin...

You may be wondering where the sunsets have gone. Honestly, it's been several weeks since I last saw a sunset, which is why I haven't posted any pictures of them. My new work schedule has me on duty until 7 p.m., which, seeing as I asked for early shifts, makes perfect sense seeing as it's the second latest one. Nothing screws up my day more than having breakfast at 7:30 and "dinch" at 3. So. Having to work until 7, now that it's fall, means I don't get to see the sunset anymore. And on my days off, it's been rainy and cloudy. I miss the sun, and it's not even winter yet. Several years ago, when I lived through the Wisconsin winters on a regular basis, I often got SAD - seasonal affective disorder. It's basically weather-induced unhappiness , caused by lack of sunshine. Yes, living without sunshine can really mess you up that much. (Although, it apparently has summer effects, too.) I've been toying around with the idea of getting a high-in...

This weekend, most people are remembering ten years ago. They are remembering a time when they were different, when the United States was different. They are remembering the choking terror as smoke billowed from two buildings in New York, another building a mess of rubble, an airplane crashing into nothing, far away. I am doing the same. I think, very often, that September 11 seems to mean something different for my age group - those now ages 20-30 - than for many of the older adults I know. For them, yes, it was horrifying and a catastrophe. But the difference is in how we've lived after it. I'm not saying this event didn't affect older adults - those now 50 and older. It certainly affected everyone in the United States deeply. I'm not discounting their reaction. But for those who had less life experience at the time of the attack, it is a pivotal moment in our lives. That day, everything became starkly Before and After. It is not a far stretch to say September 11 is o...

Over the weekend, in a night of drunken debauchery (okay, only one of those happened, but I'll let you decide which one), our camera mysteriously disappeared. This is bad in a couple of ways, the more pressing of which is that Spousal Unit needs it to complete data gathering on the skeletons for his thesis. The other way it's bad is that I can't take pictures for the blog if I have no camera. So here are some random pictures I found online that are (supposedly) of New Mexico sunsets. The first one is in Santa Fe, the second is in Columbus. They are not my pictures. Hopefully our prodigal camera will return before we move.

This weekend, Spousal Unit and I got a packet from Children International . We sponsor Roselle, a little girl who lives in the Philippines. The envelope was the same size and shape as our usual update packets from them, which usually include a new picture and info on her living situation. But for some reason, when I saw this one I freaked out a little. Maybe the writing on the outside ("Open immediately!") was a different color than usual. Whatever it was, I was right to freak out: Roselle and her family have disappeared, and all CI can tell us is that they've "unexpectedly moved out of our sponsorship area and can't be located." The letter said things like this happen fairly often to low-income families, that they have to pick up and move whenever the chance of better work comes up. I personally find it odd than no other families in the area knew where they went - maybe CI knows and, since the family is out of sponsorship range, just isn't telling us....