A room where it’s nine in the afternoon.

I always pictured having a daughter that I connected with. Somehow I thought we’d defy the norm and hormones and adolescence and we’d have a connection.

I seriously underestimated hormones and adolescence.

There is a connection–don’t get me wrong. It’s probably often our similarities that keep us from being closer. Keep her from being close to me. But then again, it’s the similarities that she, at 14, cannot see that keep her distant. Being a teenager is hard.

One day, given the chance to think of me as a human instead of just her mom, I think she’ll really like me. I mean…she’ll still roll her eyes at my corniness, but deep down I think she’ll like me.

I can picture all that today.

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I’m on your magical mystery ride.

At night if Chris or I don’t get to the last bit of dirty dishes before bed, he organizes them into neat little piles so it doesn’t look like as much work in the morning.

I love this about him.

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The hardest to learn was the least complicated.

Dinner at its finest.

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This impromptu day of healthy eating was surprisingly easy. I don’t know if all the shit that happened today made it easier or harder, but I appreciate that food did its own thing and I never felt like it was one more hard thing I had to decide on.

I read some stuff from Sarah Rentfro about not having to make the food choices day in and day out and how you already decided and taking away the option of choice made it easier. And I just wanted to say yes yes yes to all of that. She took all the complicated out and I so appreciate that.

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Apart from the choices or non choices of the day, my body is wrecked by the detox. Even with the increase of turmeric and the addition of magnesium, my body is on fire. Best I can do now is sleep.

This holy reality.

I just drove halfway to the store and turned around and drove home. I want the chips or chocolate or <insert thing here>, but not nearly as much as I want to feel healthy and have a healthy relationship with my body and with food.

I don’t want to feel disordered and out of control. I also don’t need to feel “in control” per se. I want an *absence* of feeling out of control and disordered. I don’t want to feel detached from food; I want an absence of feeling attached to it. I want it not even on my radar.

So I turned around and came home. Because if the food’s not here, I give myself the opportunity to practice.

Also, I really fucking need more sleep. This is all so much easier with good sleep. I told Chris last night that lack of sleep makes me want to eat all the everything. It felt really relieving to say it out loud. It was truth and not an accusation. That’s really spectacular progress too. I’m proud of that.

 

Leads to something.

When I was in high school, I saw a counselor every week. She once told me to write letters to myself with my nondominant hand for a different perspective. In this age of technology I wonder what perspectives we lose not writing pen to paper at all–everything with both hands all the time.

This week felt like everything all the time more of the time than I’m comfortable with. Last night, I eventually just had to lie on the couch and close my eyes.

My mother had surgery yesterday to remove a tumor in her stomach. It’s cancer–technically. But also it’s not the sort of cancer that so many cancer diagnoses are. It’s unlikely she’ll need chemo or radiation. It’s unlikely she’ll need to do anything except heal from surgery. So I’m not…worried per se. It just would have been nice yesterday to have more information. It would be nice to have had any information today.

The biological father of my two older children can’t seem to get it together enough to be an actual dad. It’s overwhelming for me to experience his absence to them, as well as his tragic (as of yet) inability to grow and evolve.

My husband, who has been going through a fair amount of medical and health issues, is overwhelmed with his own feelings involving grief and loss and pain of old ghosts. As well as physical pain and exhaustion because of hard labor and stressful job stuff. And I can’t do anything about any of that. I can stand by his side and support him, but it’s not my place, or within my ability, to do more. And try as I may to not be weighed down by it, it is still a heavy part of my day. And that is something I navigate.

And then there is the frustrating fact of hormones and the sweet irony that women sync up. And I have a teenager.

But it’s all a reminder that life ebbs and flows and moments are just moments and on to the next we go.

Feels like lightning running through my veins.

I feel like maybe it’s been a bit more gray here than sunshine. Life spins on around me–non-virtual life. Real life. And for the most part it *is* sunshine-esque. There’s anxiety stuff that I haven’t been able to bring myself to do, but mostly my attitude is grateful and present and I’ve been keeping up with the everyday stuff. I’ve made a life that feels good to live in.

And then there are these pockets of gray that slowly start filling up. And some days the pockets stay leveled–or even empty. And other days they fill up quite quicker than I can handle. And it’s those days that I really miss connection. It’s those days that I think connection could have offset. And usually on those days, I think to write and share the overwhelm. But I don’t, because I don’t want to feed the overwhelm. Eventually I find the path that leads back to homeostasis, and in that second before the sunshine lights the way, I feel resigned sadness. And for whatever reason, those are the moments I’ve been posting at recently.

I don’t have any desire to commiserate or cry “woe is me” or even give off the impression that anything is “bad”. I just….want to sit in that moment of truth and let myself feel it. It’s not the *only* truth. Or all of the truth. And it’s not the constant truth. But it’s a moment and I want to honor it.

I don’t always feel lonely, tho I do feel it more often than I’d wish to. I try to connect and–also often–feel like there’s no one to connect to. I will always keep trying. I’m not discouraged, per se. Just…sad about it. Sometimes.

I had a really nice weekend. There were some very low lows and some very high highs. There was connection and laughter and outsideness and I want more of that. I’m working on it; it’s a slow process. But I’m showing up.