The clearest way into the Universe...

I’m having a particularly bad obsessive/compulsive morning, where it feels like if you looked at my brain on a scan, the whole thing would be lit up. It’s strange to feel this way, because I had a great day yesterday. I didn’t make a post in the morning because at 7am I was already at Fresno City College subbing for one of the teachers that wrote a letter of recommendation for me. It was a paying gig, and easy money, basically proctoring a peer-review exam. The student got into groups and discussed their essays. The thing is, these students were lively, stayed on task, actually cared about the subject, and enjoyed each other’s company. It was teacher joy! And I even said so to the class. I told them it was a joy to substitute for them because it felt like old times. Back before covid, social media, and the downfall of democracy.

I subbed for two classes and the second class was almost as great, but started looking at their phones after a while. I had to wonder what it was that made these students so different. Was it the teacher? Was it because their teacher was a man? Was is because it was Fresno City? Was it because the subject matter was basically about themselves? Was it because it was so early in the morning and early risers are going to be the most? Probably a bit of all of it.

I came home in a great mood and stopped by Trader Joe’s for dinner fixins. I bought myself flowers and came home and arranged them. I had a lunch of a Trader Joe’s salad and chips and drank the seasonal gratitude kombucha. Picked up the kiddo from school for an early release Wednesday and came home and napped hard.

After dinner I was feeling a bit antsy wanting to hang on to that teacher joy high, but today, I have the real day job and it’s back to simi interested students and real lecture. Today should be an easy day. My freshman have Library Day, so I don’t have to lecture. I just wish I didn’t feel so shaky. I think it’s the lack of sleep. I slept horribly and woke up later than usual. I had a dream about being upset with a very old friend of mine and woke up with indented 11's in the center of my forehead. In fact, I need to go make sure the kid is awake and fix his lunch already.

This work day cannot end soon enough.

This semester is still not over.


I keep thinking about the first line of Wild Geese by Mary Oliver.

"You do not have to be good."

Full stop.

You do not have to be good.

As in...

What does it mean to be good? A good girl? Good person? Am I bad if I am not Good?

Mary Oliver says I do not have to be good, so I am giving myself permission to not be good.

That is hard to do.

I have been waiting for my regular psychiatrist to come back from sick leave. My appointments kept getting pushed back for about a month or longer than they should have. I was finally set to get a call from her on Tuesday, but on Monday they called me and said that she will be out indefinitely. I just started crying. I have been waiting for so long to try out a new long-term medication and now I was set up with another practitioner that I have never seen before from the same office. Now I’m going to have to explain my whole journey and how I was on Lexapro for over three years, but it contributed to a 50lb weight gain. And the last med, Latuda, made me go down a path that I have gone down before, and I am lucky to have made it back. I have just been supplementing with Ativan, but it’s not great to take every day. It makes me dry and constipated and when it wears off, I am right back, if not worse than where I started with my anxiety. I am not well.

Every single day is a struggle to keep going. Every single day is a struggle to keep going. Every single day is survival. Every single day is a battle to wash my hair, to brush my teeth, to go to work, to take care of Caleb, to maintain the relationship, to get up. To get up. There is no joy. My house plants are dying. I have no friends. There are no comforts. Food tastes bland. Ativan takes away IQ points and I lose words while I teach. I am tired, but it’s hard to sleep because of the racing thoughts. My brain likes to send me images of all the times I made mistakes, or done something embarrassing, or remind me of the fact that I can’t keep a friend to save my life.

I think I need to go searching for another therapist, but I am a person with slight abandonment issues, and the last one flat out abandoned me. She flat out forgot that she was supposed to reschedule yet another canceled appointment. I can’t keep a therapist to save my life either. Am I cursed? How did my life end up this way?

There are good things. The relationship is strong. My little family is strong. We go out every night and walk and talk. If it wasn’t for them, well, I don’t want to think about it.

My next appointment with the new practitioner is on Tuesday. I hope she’s a good one. I am so not in a good space for someone new, but I have no choice.

We bought our used Ford Escape hybrid back in October of last year. It’s been a decent vehicle and well used in the last two months with all the family obligations and traveling. It has a backup camera that works just fine, until the heat rises above 100F outside. We didn’t realize it was heat that was making the camera glitch out until it was obvious that when the weather was agreeable, it would work. Well, with record breaking heat this summer, as soon as I back out of the driveway, the camera shows wavey and striking lines, in all shades of colors and eventually just poops out. I am that camera.

I’m not even mad. I just look at it and say, “same" and nod in solidarity. It worked when we were down in La Jolla in the middle of the month. The cooler air and constant overcast weather made the backup camera shine clear as day. I forgot that it even worked until I was backing out of my brother-in-law's Air BnB condo. I had moments of clarity too while I was there enjoying the warm ocean and cool air. One of the best days of the year was on July 11th (I think) when I was swimming in the ocean with my son and my niece and I was helping Lucie bodyboard in the perfect kid size waves. I couldn't catch a wave for myself to save my life, but it was such a joy to set the kid off flying towards the sandy beach. I understand when the Beach Boys sing “Catching a wave and you’re sittin’ on top of the world.”

I’ve been living vicariously through surfers catching waves lately and it’s honestly been great to see (wink-wink).

When we got home from the big family trip to San Diego/La Jolla then to Murrietta to see grandpa, then home, I was spent. The backup camera was back to the jarring stripes and off-color edges. We endured 114-112 heat that has barely let up for the last few weeks. I felt dizzy. Food decomposes so fast that it’s impossible to eat anything fresh. The worst is going in and out of the house into an air-conditioned store, then out into the breath choking heat again. I can’t walk outside or cook without suffering. I have not been well for some time.

We are expecting a break from the heat starting tomorrow night. On Saturday we should have a high of 95 and lows into the 60’s. It wouldn’t be so bad if the nights were cool, but they barely dip into the high 70’s. I hope this break in the heat will stop this constant buzzy feeling that I get when I move too suddenly. My nerves look like my backup camera.

Today I had four fillings removed and replaced. One filling was so bad that there wasn’t enough tooth left to save so they made me a crown. I am now dental royalty. I cried when they ground down the tooth to make way for the crown out of grief and loss. I kept saying over and over in my head, “thank you tooth. Thank you for being there.” It felt like I was being cremated while still alive. Flecks of my tooth were being sucked away as if it was just debris. They ground down to the wires. I am still sore from the procedure.

Jon is currently working himself up into a fit. He is pacing in and out of the bedroom huffing and being angry. It’s all my fault. I undermined his fatherly authority when came back from my walk and asked if we all wanted to go for a walk around the neighborhood (a normal nightly routine). When I asked, he started whine-yelling at Caleb to get off the screen and let’s go. I said, “no stress, everything is good.” He then said ok and folded his arms like a child. Then when the Wii U wasn’t shutting down fast enough, he started in again, “Turn it off!” I defended Caleb and said, “it is!” That set him off.

The whole walk, Jon just huffed behind us in anger and stress. I ignored it because I don’t want to fight in front of Caleb. Caleb walked on and I asked him questions about his friends and such. Jon was still walking slow halfway through when I said, I love you! And hugged him. Caleb hugged him too and said, “Triangle of love!” I freaken love that kid. Jon started crying a bit. More out of stress than anything.

So now we are home, Jon just raged-gathered up the laundry and put it in the wash. He just told me “I’m going to go on a walk. Maybe that will help.” I asked him what is up? He said he’s fine. My two most hated words, I’m fine. I literally shot back, “no you’re not. What’s going on. It’s not me.” He said it wasn’t.

It is. I said I was sorry. He’s getting his pipe out right now to smoke.

I write this down to remind myself of what February was like. Just when I thought he was doing better. I can’t win.

I guarantee I'll have to do double duty of being his therapist and emotional regulator tonight. I don't want to be.

Happy Pride Month!!!

I euthanized my Moop at 4:30 this morning. She had renal failure. She was 11. I love her even though she gave me heart palpitations and kept me up at night. There is a small percentage that feels relief. I am free. I gave her a good life. But, damn it. I miss my Moop. My arms ache to hold her and pet her again. I want her to sleep at my feet again. The loss is great.

She gave me one last night of hell that is up there as being one of the worst nights of my life. Thank you Moop for that. Honestly.

I’ve started and erased this post a few times now trying to find the exact words to describe what’s going on. I guess it helps to back track a bit. My anxiety was still pretty high around the holidays, but after the first of the year, when I started walking with Jon and destressing, I began to feel better. Then I had a few peaks and valleys with stress, but as soon as I started eating vegan a month ago, my stress level seemed to be evening out even more. Teaching wasn’t too bad stress-wise. There were full days where I don’t think I felt one heart palpitation.

Then the build up to the evaluation last week triggered a stress attack and I’ve been having low level stress since then. Then the night before last, I had the grand mal anxiety attack and I can still feel the reverberations. This morning, I thought I would try to get in a 10 minute run. I set the bar WAY LOW these days. Plus, I walked before hand and after. I ate my oatmeal breakfast and now I’m doing everything I can think of to keep me from having a long prolonged anxiety attack. The heart palpitations are back. My mantra is now, “It’s all in your head, it’s all in your head.” I am healthy. My heart is fine. It’s the stress. I just want to work out hard again. Is that too much to ask?

I wish I could control it, but I have to make preparations for class tonight. We are watching the movie Into the Wild, but next week we start a whole new unit and I have not even read the book! This is where my lightheadedness is coming from right now. I am so under-prepared and I have no idea how to teach the textbook. Unfortunately, it’s just going to be a “learn to teach on the spot” type of teaching. I will be doing this up until spring break in 6 weeks. 6 weeks of textbook lecture on a textbook that I don’t know.

My goal is to not hurt myself again with anxiety. Eating vegan, with a high concentration on kale and all the veggies and whole grains is helping. I also bought a scale again last night. This morning it said 144.6. I am 5’5” and I am the most out of shape I have ever been in my entire life with a “normal” BMI. My life is truly a mind fuck of everything I have ever known to be “true.” I seriously just want to go for a jog and go for as long as I want like I used to and feel good afterwards. It’s a death to not be able to do this and this right there is the heart of the problem. I have grand mal anxiety attacks because there are parts of me that have died. I am in mourning and I don’t want to lose anymore abilities. Getting old is not for the faint of heart, quite literally.

Ok. I need to dry my eyes, wash my face and go get the kiddo. Sometimes I wish I had time to see a therapist to help me process this shit.

Saturday night was the best date night since Caleb was born. We bought a Mygym Parents Night Out deal where they watch the kids, do crafts, play games, and so on, for 3 hours. Jon and I got dressed up and went to the House of JuJu in Old Town Clovis. Old Town is just how it sounds; rustic, country, and charming at Christmastime. The restaurant was new to us and the city. It was hopping at 6pm.

I was brought out a bowl of wine. I kid, but it was such a large glass that I couldn’t finish the Cabernet! I ordered fish tacos because I knew that they had a parent restaurant in Morro Bay, thus a real sea food connection. I was not disappointed. The fish was fantastic, like it was fresh caught that day. Jon enjoyed his turkey burger and rustic potatoes. After his Stella Artois, we were feeling mighty fine.

I didn’t like the fact that I didn’t know the people at the Mygym. I thought it was going to be regular people that have seen for years, but no. So we decided that we were going to go out for coffee then just head straight back. Coffee turned out to be the highlight of the night. I had heard of this mom and pop place called Two City Roasters from a friend and we tried it out. Turns out Jon knew the owners and had bought their coffee often at the farmers market a few years ago. He didn’t know that they had a permanent place now and the coffee! I only had a sip, but it was real actual good coffee. Some roasters have bitter coffee. No.

Most roasters have bitter coffee. I call it hipster coffee because it tastes like shit, but everyone drinks it anyway because it was locally roasted. There is a place in the Tower District called HiTop coffee that fits this description perfectly. It’s just raw and bitter coffee. Two Cities, however, have the roast perfect where it’s round bodied and almost sweet! I was impressed. I had my peppermint tea and we sat at the rustic bar and chatted about easy things. It seriously was one of the best nights ever. We haven’t had a night like that in a very long time.

Caleb was ready to go! Yesterday, Caleb and I went to the San Joaquin Nature Conservancy because there is a store there that has nature things and I wanted to get this bird that actually makes the sounds that it makes for my mother for Christmas. Caleb ended up picking out a really cute Red Tailed Hawk, that screeches like a real hawk. It’s actually adorable. I love them and I want to keep the quail that I picked up for my mother for myself.

Mother… Last night I was reading my posts from last year at this time and it almost triggered another panic attack just reliving it all. I was living like my house was on fire. Every. Day. Well, actually, that set the tone for the entire year. We’re just a smoldering pie of ashes at this point, but still burning. I was so angry with my mother and how I told her how I was stressed about everything. Writing the thesis, Caleb and is ever ever ever need for companionship, and heart palpitations, and anxiety and stress beyond belief. She said, and I wrote it here, “I understand.” And that was that. She never offered to help take care of Caleb. I ended up getting into the routine of taking Caleb out to her house to force her to watch him. I’m still really really upset about it all because I was clearly out to sea drowning without a life raft and she yelled back, “I UNDERSTAND.”

She’ll be here this week while Jon is gone to Southern California and I don’t know if I want her here. This morning is the only morning that I will have time to clean while Caleb is at daycare. And I’m cleaning for my mother?! Screw that. She’ll get clean sheets on the spare bed, but that’s it. If I want to clean, it’s going to be for me. I have no motivation to impress her or take care of her in any way. I asked her to come and be here while Jon is gone, but I shouldn’t have reread the shit that I read last night. I’m seriously going to have to work that out in therapy. It’s not like she’s ever going to change. I’m just going to have to change my attitude about ever expecting anything from her. I am an orphan in many ways.

Jon had to go to a 3 hour meeting today even though he’s technically done with the semester. He’s looking into becoming the Guided Pathways Coordinator or some other such thing since his gig as a department chair will be up in the fall. It’s always so funny to me that the more money you make, the more obscure your job title will be. I Calebed a lot yesterday and this morning will be the last of my alone time for a long time. Ironically, when it’s vacation time, bye bye alone time. I just want to savor this last hour and a half before I have to pick up the kid.

This has been the first morning in literal, without hyperbole, months where I am not sweating over my morning tea. I actually wore a (very light) cardigan to take the kiddo to daycare this morning in anticipation of a cool breeze. I think I almost felt it. I have a fancy dancy temperature gauge where I have the sensor outside under a bush, under the eaves, and it read 65 degrees this morning. For comparison, I haven’t seen a six as the first number in a very long time. Waking to a 70 or above is normal. It is August, but we are so over summer. After tonight, I seriously can’t believe that I’m already two weeks into the semester already. Two down, sixteen to go. Clovis Community College has the longest semesters of ANY COLLEGE EVER. I would know. I have been to six!

All of us have been cruising along on a large ball of stress and the house reflects that. I have no time to clean or to even stop and write, like I am now. I scheduled this time for me because if I don’t, I could just keep working forever. First year teaching is a fucker. I’m not only writing lesson plans at midnight because my child will not go down until 11pm, but I cannot shut off my brain from teaching. I’ve gotten to the point of carrying around my notebook just to write all my lecture ideas down just to get them out of my head, but it’s like a Hydra. As soon as I cut one head, two more pop up! I have more and more angles to think about the reading or writing that I want them to do. Mentally, it’s exhausting.

Caleb has been a thing and I know he’s three and almost a half, but Jon and I are at full tilt max capacity with taking care of him. He doesn’t play on his own for very long and still very much needs our attention all the time. From the moment he is up at 7:30 until the nap at 3-5 and then again until almost 11 he is UP and busy and needs us so much to play. If you are doing the math, that’s only 10-11 hours of sleep and it’s a fight to get him to sleep that much. And he fights when he doesn’t get his way and won’t listen to us when we want him to do things like sit on the potty for 30 seconds just to see if he needs to poo. And I mean FIGHT. This morning’s fight to get him to sit ended in tears. He’s making potty training traumatic for himself.

Ok. At this point, for all our structure and routine, we do the same damn thing ever damn day at the same time every damn day, he still fights us like it’s going to change. By 10pm I’ve lost my fight, my smile, and my charm. Jon always steps in at this point because he has about 10% more patience than I do, and we are very patient people.

This on top of trying to deal with the textbook change and writing all my lesson plans from scratch. We can’t do this forever, or for much longer. Something’s got to give and my sanity is at stake.

Next week, I’m making the lesson plans a little on the easier side by exploring classic Poe. These kids haver never heard of Oedipus Rex!!!!! I actually had to full on explain Plato’s analogy of the cave, because I was teaching what an analogy was and they have never heard of it. We are going to hone in on some classics like The Raven and The Tale Tell Heart because I’m honestly in shock on how much they don’t know. How are they going to grapple with Foucault’s Panopticon? It’s in the new text and I plan on teaching it because I know it well. These kids barely just learned how to wipe their bums!

Oh and baby Stella still isn’t here yet! Poor Kate, 40 weeks and three days. I texted her earlier and she said that she was having contractions, but they go away. I told her that if she has Stella after 12:08am she will officially be a Virgo. She’s pretty confident that Stella will not be coming today. She has an OB appointment tomorrow and I think they are going to induce her. So unless something dramatic changes, I’m going to win on naming Stella a Virgo. It was a long shot, but I could just tell from the way she was hanging that she was going to be in it for a long time. We’ll have a new baby in the family by the weekend for sure!