Woof. (the dog days)

I’ve been thinking a lot about writing, but not doing a lot of it. I like to have a through-line here, to keep things updated – this has always been a foible of mine when journaling – and at the same time, I want to be real, thoughtful, deep energy into some topics. Usually, I get so caught up in the day-to-day that I end up running out of energy for the bigger stuff. It ends up being a tracker of sorts. That’s not without it’s benefits (this blog has been the best dramaturgical tool available for L’s show development) but it misses out on what I often enjoy the most.

There are reasons I want to write but cannot. The biggest of those is that I haven’t felt so great about things emotionally for a while. I genuinely believe I have a sort of seasonal depression that comes around in the summer. Obviously, in my case it’s not linked to dropping vitamin D levels and missing the sun since there is plenty of that right now (quick, save it up!) I think it’s much more linked to the seasonal shift which, for most of my life, wasn’t great. My summer’s were usually lonely (I was much better socially at school and less so with interacting outside of that context), I don’t feel as good in my body when I’m sweaty and wearing shorts, things just feel stagnant.

But, I’m trying to break that spell. And to do it, I’m going to try and commit to writing what I’m thinking and feeling more than I write what I am doing and what has happened. From an audience perspective (which isn’t, and hasn’t ever been, the primary purpose of this blog) most of you who read this are also my friends on Facebook, and I’m pretty decent at updating there. And while I might miss some of those quotidien moments that I have appreciated being able to look back on, I often wonder what other things I’ve lost in needing to stick to a reporting of the facts.

For now . . .

  • L has been in her Emerging Artist Theater program for a few weeks now. the first week was 5 days/week from 10-6 (realistically this meant 8:30-7 when commute is factored in) and since then, it’s been T/Th/Sa. So I have had a small excursion into stay at home parenting (incredibly limited especially as compared to my long suffering spouse) and it has become incredibly clear that this is not something I want to do as my primary role. I am in awe of folks who do it on the regular because it is beyond exhausting, mentally trying, incredibly lonely and, in general, has made me doubt my ability to parent well.
  • I have been thinking a lot about the baby #3 question. For the record, we are still a year + out before there would be any real movement towards a third kid but, it’s been on my mind. The logistics, sure (getting embryos from CO to WA, or doing a FET in CO or . . .) and the timing (definitely not happening until Ansel is in school full time!) But also . . .the judgement people will have (we have only mentioned it in passing and it’s still intense), my vacillation on the issue entirely (it feels emotionally clear to me that our family should have 3 kids; it is also enturely true for me that two children has been grueling and that doesn’t seem likely to be so different with three); the inevitable question of money.
  • Bodies and mortality and aging. OH god. I can’t even do that right now. I’m just putting this here as a placeholder. I feel really old.
  • How deeply sad I am that my mom never seems to ask questions about my kids, or about me. How she is still insistent that we come to them because it’s “easier” even though OMFG it definitely isn’t. Just how much I want to have a really meaningful relationship with her and how it’s just really not going to happen. That lack, the loss of my belief it could be possible, the realization that it just won’t ever be what I want it to.