Mar
2
Lifewise I feel like I was barreling along at breakneck speed during the last part of 2025 and now I have come to a slowdown. Settling into this new chapter. It’s been long enough that nothing feels as surreal as it initially did, and I think I am hopefully through the most dizzying rollercoaster loops of Yay!/Oh Noooooo.
And, like, I know it’s not all about ME, but I must say that this whole life under fascism thing has really been at odds with my post-divorce glowup. I mean, won’t this morally bankrupt administration festooned with pedophiles and grifters think of my personal growth while they’re busy dismantling democracy and explaining away state-sanctioned murder?
It’s pretty dang hard to tell the difference between situational and regular depression these days, you know? Do I feel this way because everything is a race-for-the-bottom shitshow, or do I need to touch grass and have a snack? Am I feeling wobbly because I’ve just been through a total life overhaul and my once-tight family unit has been scattered to the winds, or is it because I looked too long into the disturbing amount of white eyeball flesh surrounding Kash Patel’s corneas? Does the idea of getting through the next three years feel overwhelming because I find myself at a sort of middle-age crossroads and I’m just not sure of my next steps, or is it because our nightmare of a president who should by any measure of justice be clutching his McDonald’s-stuffed arteries in the throes of eleventy billion heart attacks has the seeming resiliency of a gas station hot dog just basking away under the hot burning lights of MAGA disinformation? Am I tired because *flaps hands in all directions* or is it because I’m 52?
Also, dude, I’m FIFTY-TWO now. That happened last month and I guess I am mildly pleased to be a round number of years old but aside from that I’m not sure I have a lot to say about being not just 50 but into my fifties. It beats the alternative? I do believe I am fully into the menopause stage of things so there’s that. (Speaking of, I will keep this short but if your once-lush lady garden business is feeling a bit … wilted, and on its way to transforming into a hostile desert environment, topical estrogen cream is the way to go. Easily available now from the telehealth options.)
Let’s see, what else to report on. Well, my friend Marty died, goddamn it. I called him Mark in that post but what the hell: his name was Marty. I was able to see him the day before, and say goodbye in my own way. Like Isabelle, he declined rapidly and the end was peaceful, so that was good. That is two people I really, really cared about in two months, and I will for sure take a bit of a break before getting my next hospice assignment. There is one volunteer lady I’ve met at meetings who has like 10-15 patients at a time! I truly do not know how she manages that emotionally. There are opportunities to help with other things, like office work, so I believe I will do that for a little while instead. I’m also looking to help on Fridays with another organization that works with kids.
I applied for a job that I was pretty excited about. I got far enough along in the process that the friendly, seemingly-interested hiring manager asked me for a complex writing sample, a whole bunch of varied copy for one of their services, which I dutifully worked on and sent off and then I never heard from her again. Totally ghosted, even after I checked back in. That is some real bullshit and something I perhaps very unfairly attribute to a new generation of people in charge of hiring who prefer the Irish goodbye to “thanks but no thanks.” Here at 52 (!!!) I am, like Pepperidge Farm, old enough to remember the lost art of the rejection email. Being ghosted just sucks — no closure, with all sorts of lingering questions. Did my sample blow ass? Did she just take it and use it for free? Did she get fired/die? WHAT THE HELL.
I have been on a few dates! That feels absolutely crazy to say, but it is true, I have. There is a very nice man who lives a couple hours away and we have shared some good meals and hikes and conversation. I am not looking for anything more than that, and it’s been very chill and pleasant and interesting and fun.
January truly felt like it went on forever, then February seemed to just fly by. We had no winter to speak of and spring feels like it’s bulging at the seams nearby, ready to explode into bloom. I have no idea what this year will bring, but I am ready for more change, and curious about it all.
Feb
6
It’s unseasonably warm and sunny here. So there’s that! Unless you think too long about the downsides of it being so warm and sunny. I try not to do that!
I remembered to take the trash out on Monday night. I have almost always been able to remember to do this ever since this became my very important sole responsibility, except once when I had to go flying out there early Tuesday morning in full Oh Shit mode, v embarrassing because my house is kind of super visible to a lot of neighbors since it’s on a cross street, and then I put a reminder in my phone and we’ve been solid ever since. Small wins, I will take them.
Billy is so big now, even though he is still *silly voice* just a baby! Apparently Maine Coons grow for 3-5 years, so their kittenhood is elongated much like their big old fluffy rabbit feet. We have this ongoing game where I catch his eye and gaze at him intently — this is how we know The Game is On — and then go inching around a corner so I can only see him a little bit, while he simultaneously flattens out or slinks behind something, then we carefully peek at each other while his butt starts to waggle then RARGH! He comes flying at me with paws raised! And sometimes even though I am very much aware that he is incoming he still manages to startle me!
My house really feels like my home to me now, which is such a good feeling. Sometimes I get back after being out and about for a while and it’s just like: ahhhh. It feels so good to walk in the door. It feels like slipping into a warm robe.
I have absolutely become the older lady that tells young moms to cherish the precioussssness and I can’t believe it, I know FIRSTHAND how annoying that was, and yet. I was talking to someone recently who was sharing about how in the weeds she felt with parenting lately, her son had just given the whole family some tragic barfing sickness and she was telling me about all the grim loads of laundry, the panicky E.R. visit for dehydration, all the things, and even though I can very specifically imagine the hellishness and even have my own terrible E.R.-for-barfing memory (the oily panic, followed by the relief/exhaustion of seeing a scary-pale child being revived, the lingering feeing of being in WAY over my head) I still found myself saying something like “Oh but you won’t realize how much dopamine they give you on the daily until they’re grown,” what in the absolute sam shit, self.
Speaking of the relentless and surreal passing of time, Dylan turned 18 this week. I have a whole entire piping-hot gumbo of feelings about that, but I will limit myself to saying that he sure is turning into a fine young man. Like Riley, he really is his own unique dude and I love them both so very dang much. 18, can you believe it! I spent some good time with him here and one of my gifts to him was a metric crap-ton of Big League Chew, Original Flavor, because we’ve been noticing that it’s hard to find plain bubble gum flavor in the stores. What, you’re going to stuff in a wad of fake chew and it’s strawberry? Fughettaboutit.
(It goes by so fast.)
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