Another untidy hodge-podge of random thoughts, because I am too distracted to be cohesive, yet am overburdened with vague musings that threaten to derail my functional consciousness altogether if I don’t vent them here.
• The kid update is that he has had some tests, some more tests are scheduled, he’s had some medicines, we’re adding some more, there have been some improvements, some setbacks, and essentially life is a moment-to-moment, nerve-shattering cliffhanger of alternating worry and hope. Thank you for your continued good wishes / prayers /random chicken dances on his & our behalf.
• My grandfather died, and was buried, and because of all the kid health issues I was not able to be there. For any of it. Which sucked, even though my family understood. I am left with a sense of incompleteness, which is made known to me in dreams where he is trying to text me from the afterlife or I am trying to flag down an ambulance that is carrying him into an eerily-lit tunnel or he is standing over my bed speaking to me with uncharacteristic urgency but I can’t hear him because there are wads of hair stuffed in my ears. (That last one? Yeah, dreams are weird.)
• I am in a worsening disconnect with my husband, and at that place where I don’t — can’t — even try to talk with him about it because it just feels like the same old hashed-over stuff that is never going to change but for some reason is having an extremely alienating and isolating effect rather than inspiring the wry-but-good-natured forbearance I can usually muster. I can’t tell if it is because we are both just very legitimately stressed out to the gills right now, or if he is just an asshole. Haha, I kid, certainly he is no more of an asshole than when I married him haHAHAA I kid some more. No, of course he is not that, but I fear we are becoming less invested in what we each need from the other and less inspired to give it, because our own needs are woefully neglected, and so goes the vicious cycle. You can probably guess his needs, and my needs have to do with feeling picked on and totally emotionally forsaken. So, yeah, real compatible issues. That I can’t even bring up because he can’t believe emotional forsaken-ness or WHATEVER is even a problem and I don’t have the energy to convince him it is. Or the energy for anything, uh, else, either. Maybe he’ll read this and it will help start a conversation. Maybe he’ll make more divorce jokes. Maybe some of you will have some magic ideas.
• All the blog monetization discussion happening lately. I can’t say I have much to add to it, other than noting my ambivalence. I don’t read giveaways/reviews/marketing content; I’m here for community and commiseration. That said, I know a lot of people find value in the more commercial aspect of social media, and I think that’s fine. I certainly don’t have opinions about what people should or shouldn’t do with their blogs. As for my own blog, sometimes I think it would be nice to run ads and earn a little pin money to keep me in used books and lattes. But then I remember that my blog is my one refuge, my sanctuary where I can really be me and wrestle with my demons and explore possibilities, and, let’s admit it, navel-gaze with sheer, unabashed abandon. And that only works — at least so far — when I’m anonymous. (Plus, in all candor, I don’t think I have the traffic that ad programs require.) Then sometimes I think it would be fun to go to BlogHer conferences and meet all of you and sip cocktails and hear inspiring presentations and get sick in the bathroom with Omigod It’s Famous Blogger nerves and just in general feel like I have some official part in the overall social media blogworld context. However, my personal requirement of anonymity precludes my attending any of these things. Let me know when the BlogHer Masked Ball is, though, and I’m so there.
• Depression. I know: boooooring. But I think it’s got me. I think it’s situational. I think I can deal with it on my own. I think I think I think. That’s all I do, I nestle into the corners of my brain and think. I’m living my whole life in here (and while I do have an unusually large head, it’s still rather cramped), mostly because the life out there is so overwhelming and painful. But you know that commercial with the sad piano music and the narrator says “depression hurts”. It’s so true! It is constant pain, mental, physical, allegorical — it all just really hurts, really quite a lot. So I keep thinking I can just think my way out of this, that if I think long and hard and fast enough, BOOM! I’ll level-up like some sort of zen koan arcade game. Meanwhile, everything is so hard. Making meals. Getting the kids where they’re supposed to be. Finding time to exercise. Cleaning. Working. Just making idle chit-chat at school pickups or whatever is so incredibly difficult and draining and hurty. So I run and run and run on the little thinky hamster wheel in my head, believing I’ll figure it out any day now and whooosh all this weight will float away like dandelion spores on the wind, leaving me free to live without fear, without pain, here in this body, in this life, with these people that I chose, that I made, that I love. It’s got to work, eventually. Right?