I'm in the thick of it. See you next week.
Posting to tell you I'm not posting cuz parenting life.
No post this week. I’m writing this from somewhere between functioning and feral, and I figured that honesty was worth more than a placeholder.
Here’s the honest rundown: my husband is deep in what can only be described as a PhD-dissertation-level work project with a two-week deadline, which means our household’s emotional load has redistributed in the way it always does — quietly (yet also loudly?), without a formal announcement, just a not-so-subtle shift in who’s holding what. Maycember is fully in effect (IYKYK — May somehow became December and nobody asked us). The public school district situation continues to be its own special kind of absurd. My work is behind. I’m behind. Everything is fucking behind.
And then, because timing is a comedian, I spent five hours in online training and will spend six more hours in-person to get CPR certified this week. Which — genuinely wonderful. I teach Body Pump now, and I love it in a way that surprised me. It’s physical coaching. It’s the thing I do with my whole body that feels like the same thing I do in every other room of my professional life, just louder and sweatier. It fills me up. The certification is right and good and necessary.
The timing, though. The timing is fucking unhinged.
Underneath all of it: perimenopause doing its thing (will I? won’t I? my body is keeping me in genuine suspense), chin hairs thriving, sleep thinning. The usual suspects.
But here’s where I actually am: hanging in there. Taking real breaths. Self-resourcing in all the ways — nothing dramatic, trying for enough to not tip over. Reminding myself that this is a season, not a sentence. This too shall pass is a cliché because it’s true and annoying and also the only thing that helps sometimes.
If you’re in your own version of the thick of it right now — I see you. I’m in there with you.
Peace and love and fucking parenting and wtf are doing in this fucking country.
Back next week. ❤️