Are you Listening?

I want to be candid right now, I’m terrified for the future. I’m a black woman in America and each day I live in fear. You may think that sounds crazy, but it's not, it's real. I always have to make sure I have a receipt for my purchases because heaven forbid I get stopped trying to leave a store. If I walk in holding a sweatshirt I have to make sure I hold it out in front of me so no one thinks I’m trying to take anything. I’ve been followed more times than I can count.  I worry when I see the police that we could have a bad interaction that ends my life even though I’m not doing anything wrong. Then there is the female aspect of “Will I be sexually assaulted or attacked today?” Do you know what it's like to live like that? It doesn’t stop me from getting out there, but you should know my nerve endings are fizzling if I'm outside.

Let me take you back to early on in my pregnancy when we were finding out the gender of our baby. I didn’t know which one to hope for. It's not easy to be a black woman out in the world, but it's downright deadly to be a black man. Everyone kept talking about how easy boys are compared to girls or how little girls will be a miniature version of themselves. When thinking of gender reveals (let's be honest, gender is a construct), no one wants to talk about the potential downfalls of either. I was incredibly terrified when they told us we were having a boy. I kept it to myself, but some of my first thoughts were of the potential hardships he would face as he got older. Nothing can adequately prepare you for that.

My son is brown. He’s half black and half white, but his skin is tanned. I argue with myself constantly about when is the right time to make sure he knows that makes him different. I need him to know that he has to carry himself a certain way because of it. Right now he’s two and couldn’t give a shit, but is the answer five years old? Maybe ten? Certainly before twelve. I’m big on manners and being polite because people will expect the little brown child to lack those features. Deny it all you want to, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I grew up like this and times are not any better now though you would expect them to be. I, like I’m sure all parents do these days, worry that when I send him to school some psycho is going to end his life with a gun. However, I also have to worry that some psycho out in the real world will do the same because of a misguided perceived threat. He’ll never be allowed toy guns. We’ll have to teach him not to keep his hands in his pockets during an escalated situation. Not to mention he’s autistic so that's another layer on this awareness sandwich because the world does not always keep neurospicy people safe. I’m going to have to worry every single day he leaves the house that he may not make it home. Are you getting it yet?

I’m not stupid. I didn’t think the election was magically going to make everything better and take away my fear. I had hoped that it might make things even a smidge better. Maybe we would start working toward a country where I don’t have to worry whenever I leave the house. Maybe there could be a step toward progress. Moving forward instead of taking steps backward. I needed to cling to that hope to help me get out of bed in the morning. Instead, we’re taking a step backward. Forget about being a convicted felon, what about being a known sexual predator? How about wanting to take away a woman’s right to her own body? Someone who fought against fact-checking because they wanted to spew nonsense like immigrants are eating pets. A person (and I use that term loosely) who cannot seem to condemn racially motivated acts of violence. That's who was chosen. I’m at a loss here. I don’t know which way is up anymore.  I can’t help but think less of every person that voted for him. Regardless of how I’m feeling, I still have to show up for the tiny human that needs me. Maybe someday something else will come along to make me believe again. Until then, I’ll be pretending mommy is not in crisis and dancing to disney hits with Max.

Built Different

There was a trend for a while where beefy workout people would say they’re built different. I think it involved cracking an egg with their bicep. Every time I hear that I think “Yeah me too, but I’m not out here bragging about it.” I am, though, built different. I think I was meant to be the mom of a medically complicated kid. Not that anyone would wish for their child to struggle. With every new thing that pops up, I take it on the chin in stride. I don’t know why I used that phrase. I’m not even sure I fully understand what it means.

My son was born with congenital heart disease. We found out at my 20-week anatomy scan and had to immediately move into action. Sure I had a mini freakout for 24-48 hours, but then I began planning for our life to be different. There's nothing wrong with people who freak out for a longer period. Everyone processes in their own way. For me, it felt like it would be harmful to the baby to keep stressing so I started planning. I joined Facebook groups. I did research. I talked to other heart moms. I made moves. Nothing fully prepares you for your 3-day-old baby having surgery on their heart, but I did what I could.

If that wasn't enough, he was also born with G6PD. This means that certain things cause his red blood cells to break down. He’ll never be able to have things like alcohol or fava beans without them causing an issue. There are different severities, but this is what his amounts to. Again, you panic for 24 hours and then you spring into action. To be honest we’re still in the learning phases about this one.

The most recent development for my little ray of sunshine is autism. Although this one was handled differently. There was no big shock. We already had suspicions. No need for a freakout either. It's just a part of life. The real shock comes from all of the balls you have to have in the air for scheduling. An hour of speech therapy to help with his verbal delay. An hour of occupational therapy to help with sensory issues. Play therapy to help him be social. Not to mention the minimum of 10 hours ABA therapy we’ll be starting soon. I have to schedule and be available for all of those. Perks of being a stay-at-home parent I guess.

That's where my freakout lives. Trying to make sure I can keep the schedule intact and not miss or forget anything. We now live by our Google calendar. At least, we should be. Twice in the last week I had to reschedule due to a conflict I missed or declined when I had already gotten excited. Mistakes like that trigger a feeling of failure. I’m not a fan of it, but I don’t wallow in it. I have to keep moving forward.

I know I’m not the only one to have taken this journey. After all, if I was, there wouldn’t be Facebook groups for me to join. Medical moms have to be made from tough stuff. Not everyone would be able to keep rolling with the punches this way. I’m built different.

Is It Me?

I’m really striking out on the friend front and at some point I have to start to wonder if I’m the actual issue here.  I’ve tried to make regular friends and have not been successful. I’ve tried making mom friends so my kid can have someone to play with and nothing. I’m not sure what else to do aside from putting a sign on my head that says “I promise I’m friendly!” Everyone agrees that it's hard to make friends as an adult and then still doesn't help foster a relationship.

At one point I had literally swiped through everyone on bumble bff. Do you know how many people there are? I didn’t keep count, but it was a lot. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe my standards are too high or something. Maybe I’m coming off as desperate and people aren't into that. It has to be something. If I knew what it was then maybe I could add a disclaimer to my “friends wanted" sign. “Plays well with others but has RBF” or “No time for drama but will drop everything for some good gossip”.

I prefer to be pursued as a friend and yet I have even been messaging people first. Completely out of character for me. I’ve tried being witty and I’ve tried questions. Literally getting stopped at every turn. I was vibing with a few people and then they ghosted me. I even made jam because of one of them. Actual Jam. It took forever and it didn’t even bear fruit, though it was delicious. I almost want to be that person who sends a follow-up survey asking people to please indicate where things went wrong and how they could be improved. It would likely end up on TikTok as a pathetic attempt at something.

It could be that trying to make a friend when you’re over 30 is impossible. You need just the right chemistry in the right location with the right interests. I wish someone would tell me where to go to find a pool to choose from. I’m willing to overlook some things that would usually put me off. Chew with your mouth open? Fine. Well…I guess that's really the only one. I wouldn't want to befriend someone who looks down on things I’m interested in.

I wish the way of making online friends translated to real life. I’ve made many internet friends over the years and even met a few of them in person. Something about finding a common interest online makes things easier. You would think that would translate to friendship apps, but I guess not. I’m still over here doing most things alone. One day I’ll have some local friends. Hopefully one day soon.

Main Character Energy

I saw a post that said 20 years from now you’ll wish you had the life, health, etc that you have now so go out and do something with main character energy. My first thought was “hell yeah”, but what would that even look like? I know people talk about main character energy all the time but what is that? I imagine it's as if my life is a movie and I’m the star. I’m the one who should be taking chances and making things exciting. The one who runs into adventure with no planning just to see how it goes. (Okay, I wouldn't do that. I love a plan.) Not as a background character who fades into the abyss. I mean it's probably not the definition for everyone, but it's my movie, and that's what matters.

How can I add some main character energy every day? I spend most of the day keeping a tiny human alive so my options are limited. I can’t just run into danger when I have a mini-me dangling from my side. I guess it's something I should put real thought into. I never want to be the person who looks back at their life filled with regret. Stay tuned for main character adventures or maybe supplementary character failures.

Letting Go

No one tells you how hard it is going to be to watch your tiny baby grow up. He can walk and kind of say words so he's no longer the litter worm I brought home. What am I supposed to do with that?

I haven’t packed up some things because once I do, it will mean he is growing up. I still have pumps throughout the house even though I stopped months ago. I don’t want to get rid of his first toys because that is a sure sign of getting older. We don’t have the space for all of this nostalgia. To be honest, I could form an emotional attachment to a receipt so I’m not exactly shocked I’m having an issue with this.

Part of being medicated now means I know that it feels good to not be in a cluttered space. The problem is that my whole life is cluttered and I hate cleaning. Me, the person, is clutter. Am I supposed to part with my craft supplies? Am I not supposed to buy more? (answer: fuck no). I’ve slowed down since becoming a stay-at-home mom for sure. That doesn’t change what I already have in the house. I bought them for a reason so it doesn’t feel good to let them go.

One solution could be to actually use those things. I am allegedly a craft business owner. I could make all the things to get the supplies out of my house. One would say I’m built for that. We had the house professionally organized, but there is only so much they can do when you aren't willing to part with things. Don’t get me wrong. I did say goodbye to a lot of unused things, but my fabric, yarn and other various supplies keep me going. This is a situation where I feel like I need an adult. I can’t be held responsible for my previous actions when I had a shopping problem.

Overachieve Much

As we work to get my mental health cocktail right, I’m starting to realize some stuff about me and my life. I think I used a stressful job to keep things spicy. I never knew what I would be able to accomplish or what would be thrown at me so it was like a new adventure all the time. Now, I’m starting to feel bored and I’m not a fan.

To be fair, I don’t really have the energy to do anything because I live in a state of fatigue. I’m not sure how I’m getting through each day, but it's a mixture of coffee, stubbornness, and pure sugar. Well, in that case, I do know how I’m getting through the day. There are so many things I wish I could get done and yet at the end of the day, they remain unfinished.

I can admit I’m being hard on myself. I had a nice conversation with my therapist and she made me realize that I am getting many things done. I’m just used to being an overachiever so the fact that I’m doing a normal amount of things makes me feel like a failure. I’ve been sitting on that truth bomb for a few days at this point and it still hasn’t kicked in. 

These feelings are not an invitation for drama to come into my life. I want to make sure you are hearing that universe. Please do not throw me any more curveballs than originally planned. We’re good over here. I’ll be reading a book and the main character's boyfriend will do something sweet for her and I have to remind myself of what I have. In the past, I would feel envious, but now I’m able to remind myself of the sweet things my husband does for me. Or the nonsense he puts up with that is my everyday crazy.

I guess the main thing I have realized is that I need to make changes. I need to be intentional in what I’m thinking/planning/doing. That isn’t a bad thing. I could use a little more structure in my brain to really appreciate the life I have been given. 

Transparency

Social media is a double-edged sword. On one hand, you can keep in contact with people who live far away. On the other hand, it makes you think you need to live up to very unrealistic expectations. You see people living these epic lives filled with one of a kind experiences and vacations. It can give you major FOMO which is the fear of missing out if you didn’t know. You wish you had forked over the dollars to go to that Celine Dion concert instead of saving your coins for something else. It is literally crazy. There have so many articles that have come out telling you that you don’t need to live up to this standard, and yet we try anyway.

Growing up I was always taught that we don’t let people know what’s going on at home. If there are issues you are working through, no one else needs to know. I could see not wanting your kids to air out the dirty laundry. Trust me, there was a lot that could have been shared. But to make it seem like we shouldn’t tell people our true feelings really confused me. I’ll skip going into all of the logistics behind that because my parents did what they thought was best at the time. How were they to know they were dealing with a mentally ill child? I hid it well.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. People get so weird when you say you’re mentally ill. The negative connotation takes over and people try to placate you. I don’t need to be placated. I have a mental illness and I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve had it for a very long time and I’ll probably have it forever bar a major chemical overhaul to my brain. Its completely fine. I can still be the awesome person I am and be mentally ill. I’m as fabulous as I’ve ever been even though sometimes, I need to shut out the world and blob. I recommend trying it if you never have before. Put on a video and just sit there. Pay attention to it or don’t. Blobbing is about doing what feels right in the moment. I’d like to point out that my parents haven’t done anything wrong…. well to make me the way I am in regard to this illness (I’d be lying if I said they never made mistakes). A psychiatrist told me a long time ago that I would have had this illness even if I had a perfect life. It just so happens that I didn’t have that luxury.

Given how I was raised, I’ve always tried to be as open as possible about the things I am dealing with. I try to talk about my mental illness, so people know that there is no “look” to depression and anxiety. I’m a sparkly wonder and I still have a hard time functioning some days. I don’t look like the typical person with depression should look according to the tv. SURPRISE! We can look completely “normal”.

Where am I going with this? I promise I have a point. My dad died. I know my circle knows this. It’s a real thing that happened. I avoided dealing with people for a few weeks, but judging by my social media, I’m fine now. Am I fine? No. I’ve avoided telling people how I feel about this situation. Its been less than two months. Am I just supposed to be over it by now? Is it okay to make jokes about death to me? I have a friend who lies a lot. Is it now okay for them to make up a story about someone having a death in the family? I can’t answer that.

I keep telling people I’m fine because I feel like that’s what they want to hear. I don’t talk about my new fear of ghosts and shadows haunting me. I don’t talk about the days where I sit and cry. I refrain from mentioning my obsession with thinking about the last time I saw my dad, he wasn’t really there. Seems heavy, right? I’m getting married this year. People ask me about the wedding and the planning process. I don’t tell them that I have a brain fog so bad that I can’t think straight. I get up for work and force myself to function and at the end of the day I can’t make myself think of anything else. I stay in my bed with my warm fuzzy blanket because it feels safe there. Every time I go into my bathroom, I hear my mom say “your dad passed away” because that’s where I found out. I was dealing with a toilet overflow issue when I finally called her back. That’s fun right? I drink a lot of water and every time I go into that room; I look at the exact spot I was standing when she told me. Where my bones gave out and I yelled. I don’t talk about how it feels like convincing myself to run a marathon in order to brush my teeth. Showers are not my friend. Each one feels like walking to the guillotine so sometimes I just don’t.

There’s so much that I’m dealing with that I’ve been keeping to myself. I talk to Dan and my therapist about it a little. I guarantee there are a few surprises for each of them in this post. Its almost like I’ve reverted back into that little girl who doesn’t share her feelings. Or that person who would tell “I don’t like when you’re sad” so often, she stopped being honest. That’s not fun for me. It sucks.

I’m not going to apologize for the direction my postings are going to take. One minute I can make a joke and the next I’ll shut down. I’m not looking for attention, I’m looking for an outlet. Obviously keeping things inside has not served me well these last few weeks. I am me and I am grieving. This is my new normal.

Match My Hustle

So, I went to a class for budding entrepreneurs. I thought it would be a nice way to meet people and also get some ideas for my business. I was wrong.

It seemed like everyone there had brought a friend which meant I ate my salad alone and looked at my phone. I 100% could have tried talking to people, but I’m very awkward and I was already having a tough day. A late uber, wrong turns, getting lost, and then being late all added up to a lot of anxiety. I’m going to skip over a lot of stuff because I don’t want to shit all over the event. There were 4 speakers who talked about how they got started. Some seemed genuine, some seemed to just like the sound of their own voice. It wasn’t for me.

I was hoping to walk away inspired and sadly, I walked away disappointed. I don’t identify with people who were able to start a business because they either came from money, stumbled upon it, or have a family member bankrolling it. There is nothing wrong with the people who are able to do it this way. There is no judgement coming from my direction. I think it’s amazing if you have the resources to make your dreams come true.

 I get inspired listening to people who are starting out like me. Killing themselves with a 9-5 while trying to build their business. Having to do their craft at weird hours to try to fit everything in. People who had to scrimp and save so they could pay their bills and invest in themselves. That is where I am right now. I’m not destitute so let’s not play victim. I make an honest living and I pay my bills. Am I going on lavish vacations? No. Could I? Also, no. Could I go on A vacation? Sure, if we weren’t saving for a wedding and if I wasn’t banking my time for the big event. Mama is trying to take time off, so she isn’t stressed leading up to and following the big day. I know me, I’ll be comatose afterwards.

I want to hear how someone took $5 and a dream and turned it into a successful business. How they are still following their passion, but maybe they hate it now sometimes because it’s a lot of work. Again, I’m not knocking anyone’s hustle, I just know that I need to hear about a specific kind of hustle to get my gears turning.

I did get a few book recommendations though, so it wasn’t a total waste.

If you know anyone hustling like I mentioned above, send me their deets. I’m eager to pick their brains.

I Used to...

Recently there have been articles about Adele and the changes she’s made to her body. I don’t agree with all of the praise people are giving her because it makes it seem like there was something wrong with her before. As if her music and accomplishments didn’t matter as much because she wasn’t a size two. I’m not here to argue about it, we’re all entitled to our own opinions.

Something she “said” really stuck with me. There’s no real way to tell if she actually uttered these words. She allegedly said, “I used to cry, now I sweat.” When I heard it, I thought it might be a good philosophy for a dark time. I didn’t have anything to be truly sad about aside from my usual cloud of despair. After my dad passed away, I thought it would be a good time to try and channel my feelings into exercise.

Well…now I cry AND sweat. Sometimes at the same time and sometimes one right after the other. I’ve been inspired (not by Adele) to make sure I’m taking care of myself. I should be eating better, exercising and washing my effing face. Very basic things that everyone should be doing. Attempting this self-care takes a lot of effort because my natural inclination is to drown my feelings in chips and candy. Maybe even eating something I know will make me sick to avoid the feels. Fighting those urges is really creating a war inside myself like I don’t have enough on my plate

I’ve always medicated myself with food. Maybe not always, but definitely for as long as I can remember. Trying to stop that while being incredibly sad is so hard. It leaves me straight up emotionally exhausted. I have to force myself out of bed in the morning and want to get in there ASAP after work. Doesn’t leave me a lot of time to take care of things like I need to.

It could be that the universe is trying to tell me to take a break. To give into these urges (staying in bed, not the junk food). Half the time I still don’t believe this is real. They say grieving is a process, but I assumed I was exempt, and it turns out I’m not. Maybe if I give myself time to do nothing but feel I’ll get enough energy to focus on my health and wellness. Maybe not.

I used to force myself to go, go, go and now I take my time? Nah

I used to eat my feelings and now I just dream about mozzarella sticks? Nope

I used to stress about everything and now I stress about more? Still feels wrong

I used to take life for granted and now I know nothing is guaranteed.

Life Remembered

I just lost my dad. I mean just just. It hasn’t even been two weeks just (well it hadn’t been when I wrote this). That does some crazy things to you.

I know people die all of the time, but this was so unexpected. I’m not going to pretend he didn’t have health problems because he did. Any yet, this was still the last thing we expected to happen. This has thrown me for a real tailspin. You think you have all the time in the world, but you don’t. Someday your number will be up, and you don’t have a say in it. Isn’t that wild?

This entire situation is making me reevaluate how I’m living my life. I spend my time working at a job I don’t love so I can afford to do the things I do love. Only I’ve been putting so much of myself into this job and it’s been incredibly mentally exhausting. So, I don’t actually get to enjoy the things that make me happy anymore. I’m living to work when I should be working to live my best life.

It almost feels like I’ve been lost forever. I’ve never had a concrete plan of what I want to do with my life, and it shows with all of the different paths I’ve tried. My sister grew up knowing she wanted to be a lawyer and made it happen. Some people know early on they want to be doctors and just do it. I’ve changed what I want to be when I grow up so many times. I say this as if I’m not an actual grown up. I’m damn near 30.

I have a degree in something I don’t care about because people told me I should. I fully could have gotten a degree in something creative. No one held a gun to my head and said, “choose business”. In my mind I figured I should get a degree in something that will pay the bills while I pursue my creative endeavors on the side. It’s okay to have to work to support yourself if that’s what it takes. Aren’t we all just drowning in mountains of student loans and credit card debt anyway? You should still be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor whether it be a vacation or a shiny new phone (I’m looking at you Dan).

Looking back on my dad’s life through pictures has been a journey. He looks like he had so much fun. He did things he loved, he went on vacations, and he made time for friends and family. I don’t want someone to look back on my life and not be able to say the same thing. I want to live my best life. It’s a cliché for a reason.

Ready. Set. Go!

A word by any other name is...a different word

Sometimes I come across a word that is supposed to describe how I’m feeling, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Take the word “love” for example. I don’t feel like it is strong enough in certain situations. I love my friends and I think they’re great. I love my mom because, I mean, she’s my mom. My niece though. I would cut off all my limbs if she asked me to. I didn’t know I could feel so strongly about a person. I can only imagine how my sister must feel considering my niece is the fruit of her loins (Sorry Bri). I don’t feel that love accurately depicts how I feel about her. I’m not willing to put a ton of thought into finding one that does. I also struggle that I’m supposed to associate the same word with my fiancée. He’s wonderful, but sometimes he drives me insane. I think that’s a normal part of life and relationships. I’d be concerned if we never had any issues. That type of perfection is kind of strange. And yet, even when I’m mad at him, I still feel the urge to hug him. It’s very strange. I can be so mad one second and then I’ll look at him making his concentration face and I just want to smush it with kisses. I’m getting off track here.

Busy. By definition it means “actively and attentively engaged in work or a pastime.” Full disclosure: I had to look that up. To say that I have been busy lately is a vast understatement. I had to finish out a semester of school that I neglected, I moved, and I started a new job. One of those things can get overwhelming. Imagine combining all three at one time and that is the life I am leading. You may be thinking that it got easier once the semester ended You would be correct except a new semester started not too long ago. I really enjoy my new job, I do. It is just very different than what I’m used to. I spent two years going to the park and attending art classes. Now I work with adults and have to deal with angry people sometimes. I must say I prefer the tantrums of toddlers because at least they’ll be over it in a few minutes. Even if they don’t get over it quickly, you can give them a treat and they’ll be your friend again.

Why am I writing about all of this? It means that while I would love to say I’ve been silent because I’ve been making things, it unfortunately is not the case. I’ve had to stop making bows in order to focus on the recent changes. This isn’t a permanent change by any means. I’m already plotting the next time I’ll get to lose myself in front of my sewing machine for hours. For now, I get to look back on all of the things I created in the past year. I’ll be putting some of my favorites in the shop within the next few days.

Thanks for your patience!