Category: Journal

054 // Wintering

It’s been a biting and bitter cold day, but looking forward through the forecast to next week is keeping me optimistic. Spring is making her first furtive steps toward the front range with warm temperatures and, hopefully, melting these persistent snow mounds for good.

Of course March has always tended or be our snowiest month, so I have doubts as deep as the drifts, but it’s possible, right?

My return to work was rather rough. Besides the cold outside I’m also feeling a little under the weather myself. I suspect a bit of tonsillitis or a bout with my old and familiar nemesis Streptococcus. I took another Covid test thinking I might have actually caught it this time but it was negative again so I went in.

The gloom of missing my wife through her Covid isolation is hanging about too. She’s here, close enough to talk to, to see, to care and feel sorry for, but too far to comfort and find comfort in. It’s hard to hold on to hope what you can’t feel the sun. It’s hard to be grateful with the clouds hanging so low. I’m beginning to lose hope this winter feeling will ever end.

I wish the days felt this long in the Summer. It’s strange how those long hours fly by and the short ones between sunup and sundown drag so. The cold can freeze time too it seems.

053 // Losing Hours

Today is my Sunday and so, I guess you could say I have the Tuesday blues. These hours, though not spent at work, already belong to work. There is nothing I can start for myself because I have to prepare for others. There is nothing I can enjoy because my mind has flown off already exhausted and anxious over the next five days.

It doesn’t help that I rose later than I meant to this morning. The sun warmed me awake early, but I lay in bed stubbornly, defiantly, like a child doing the opposite of what I wanted because it was all I could control. In the end, only I am hurt, and in the end, there is only me to be at times angry with, and at times disappointed in.

Losing a few early hours didn’t used to matter, but more and more, what I’m trading them for feels like a waste. If it were as simple as needing more rest, I may not mind so much, but lately, it’s been me I am fighting with, and I don’t want to fight anymore. I have the time I have and I don’t have the time I don’t. I can’t deny that. I can change it, but I have to accept it first.

This past weekend I’ve also accepted that the apps and algorithms are winning. They are sucking other hours out of my life that I hardly even knew were there before they were gone. So, I’ve set timers for the worst offenders: Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat.

When the timer is up, the app lets me know I have to wait until tomorrow for more content and I am released to reclaim my attention. Some might say it shouldn’t take that, but when you have companies spending more money than you can imagine unlocking all your weaknesses, putting in front of you the content they know you can’t turn away from rather than the content you came to see, it takes more than pure willpower to fight back.

On the flip side, I am also experimenting with the timer for apps I want to be on. Those apps I use for reading books, apps for learning a language, and apps for free courses I want to finish all have timers too and I have to stay on them until the timer is up. This helps me to do the work I want, without getting overly focused on one thing to the detriment of everything else I hoped to accomplish.

It’s mid-evening now and I can feel the time left ticking itself away. I’m choosing to be grateful for the extra time I did have away from work. I’m choosing to do at least three things for me before bedtime: write these words, get past a few chapters of my current reads, and, lastly, make a plan for the hours I’ll have tomorrow—a plan free of excuses and regrets.

052 // Small Joys and Strained Gratitude

I woke up early this morning dreading the grocery shopping, the cleaning, and the caretaking. It’s not that I don’t want to do any of it. I’m actually happy to do it. It feels good to do it. It’s only that I am tired and my brain is so full and stretched so thin that I fear a rip, or small breakdown if I can’t find some small escape.

My wife is feeling a bit better. Technically, her Covid isolation ended yesterday, but she still has to wear a well-fitting mask around others until the end of her 10-day possible infections period. So, to be safe, I’ll spend a few more sleepless nights on the couch.

While at the store, I bought her some donuts and some flowers for her bedside. She was happy to get them and it was nice to put a smile on her face. She’s been so hard on herself for contracting Covid in the first place. She’d been so careful, but one night out in a crowded place where masks were a bit impractical was all it took.

I honestly felt it was bound to happen, and I suspect I’ll have my turn with the virus soon enough. I suspect we all will. The federal response and imposed restrictions were so haphazard and half-assed that we never really had any hope of containment. But that was never really the goal anyway, was it? I think all we really strove to do was keep panic at bay. We wanted the virus to spread as quietly as possible so that capitalism and consumerism would be minimally disrupted.

But the missteps of my government and my own lack of control are too much to bear thinking over for too long. All I can hope for these days are small joys and strained gratitude. My little life is as far as I can comfortably contemplate.

051 // I Got This

We’ve had many warm days these past few weeks, and in typical Colorado fashion, we’ve had some of the coldest and snowiest yet too. Today is one of the many warm ones, but it feels like the first to carry a genuine sense of spring in the air. It’s the first where the warmth did more than comfort. Today’s sun has me up, moving, and motivated.

The usual Sunday chores are underway, but at a much more relaxed pace than usual. The holiday tomorrow means I don’t have to worry about work, and more than that, I took Tuesday off too. All my anxieties are days away, leaving me with a rare Sunday of peace and contentment. A Sunday that belongs fully to me, to right now.

There will be plenty of time for me. My wife is getting through the last of her Covid-19 quarantine and with her stuck in the bedroom and me stuck out here, there isn’t much more I want to do than think, write, and read.

We are grateful that her symptoms are mild, that we have good jobs that offer paid time off, and that I am able, finally, to do more for us than I ever could before. I am well. I have been working on my driving anxiety, and I am happy to take care of her for a change.

I’ve spent almost all my adult life feeling like half a person and a less than adequate partner. It’s refreshing to see the proof of how much I have grown and to see the relief in someone’s eyes when they know they can count on me—that I got this!

Our weekend trip had to be canceled, and I have been on the couch for much of the week, but it’s all okay. Yeah, I’m bored and lonely, and a little worried, but somehow it really wasn’t a terrible weekend at all. I’m looking forward to making up the time together. I’m looking forward to my own bed and sharing responsibilities again. I’m looking forward to knowing, not just hoping, that she will be okay.

350 // Perpetually Uneasy

The last hard days of the workweek, and the year, are over. Tomorrow is the Friday before the coming weekend, and the last workday before the schools break for the winter holidays. Most years I work half of this time in an effort to squirrel away my leave time, but this year I need time to rest, regroup, and reconnect with my aspirations.

I’m feeling burned out and the reason is hard to pin down. I think it’s simply having so little time for myself, or to myself. These next two weeks are a time to figure out how to fix that so I can begin again in the new year with a sense of purpose.

Still, I know it’s more than that. The pandemic is raging on and though I feel a little more secure since I received my booster shot; the threat looms wherever I turn. We have had a lot of breakthrough cases these past few months and though no one has been lost (thanks to high vaccination rates) some have gotten really sick.

To be honest, though, I don’t think it’s just Covid I am afraid of. I don’t even think fear is the right word for how I feel. I am perpetually uneasy. Life is changing so fast now and from day to day, I don’t know what news will come or what additional safety measures are in place. Shipping delays, staff shortages, financial crisis, variants, severe weather, threats of violence, threats of political turmoil—it’s all happening all at once and all the time.

When will we rest? When will we make the world softer, slower, so that we can recover from such suffocating unease?

Still, there are small joys everywhere I turn too. Today I received an email from my doctor with the results of yet another round of lab tests. My inflammation markers are well within normal ranges and my white blood cells, red blood cells, and liver enzymes are going about their work in perfect equilibrium. My ulcerative colitis is in deep remission and I’ve been given a clean bill of health.

It’s been a long and terrifying battle since my diagnosis. Just eight short months ago, I was readying for surgery. I was sure I would lose my colon, and now? I can do and eat anything I want. Of course, there are medications to keep on top of, and supplements that need to be taken. I have to take care to have more balance in what I consume. I have to manage my stress levels and take care to rest when I need, but that’s all just fine with me.

I have my life back!

349 // A Place to Return To

I’ve noticed lately that no matter what I think my workday will look like, it almost never turns out that way. Things come up, things get rescheduled, things get remembered. I’ve had to change course and shift my thinking quite a few times, but practicing acceptance is helping me cultivate flexibility. It’s getting easier. I’m feeling happier.

I haven’t given up on schedule. I still use my calendar and will continue to do so regardless of the chaos. The schedule helps me stay on track, and if I lose my way, it provides a place to return to.

We’re staying inside today in anticipation of high winds and weird weather. This morning a cold front blew in so fast I was able to watch it happen. Dark brown and grey clouds raced overhead toward the just rising sun, turning their tops bright red. On the ground, debris swirled through intersections and plastic bags took flight. The scene felt dystopian, and a strange feeling of dread settled in. I needed to get indoors.

Work-wise things are calm. I’m doing my best to keep my calendar light through the rest of the week as I ready myself for the two-week break. Planning for planning, I suppose. It’s easy since I’m good at disappearing. Even while standing in a room full of people, no one sees me. Some days it hurts, but some days it can be to my advantage.

I can observe, and I can think, two of my favorite past times—two of my greatest strengths. I wish everyone had time in which they could retreat into themselves. I wish everyone liked themselves enough to do so. When people can’t stand the space inside their own minds, they won’t allow others to pull back either for fear they may be left alone to contend with reality. It’s ok, I promise. Try a few moments of it.

Microdose the void.

Build a tolerance to existence.

348 // Still Here

I’m amazed at the way I have held on so far this week. That it’s only Tuesday should give you some idea of how physically and emotionally exhausted I am right now. The good news is the holiday shopping is just about finished and after this evening the shipping should be done too.

Until then, work isn’t demanding much from me, but the threat looms and makes it impossible to truly either work or relax fully. I don’t particularly want to work, but I feel guilty about not doing anything productive, so I try to do a little of both at once, but I’m not feeling satisfied either way. So, I set a timer on my watch and I’m just going to make myself type for the next 25 minutes and see where that gets me.

Outside of work, I’m trying to keep perspective. My wife and I are fine, but it always feels like we’re sitting at the center of a great and terrifying storm. All around us is chaos, an ever-present threat of destruction and annihilation. I can control the calm, but the storm is beyond me. Out there are other people’s problems, tragedies, and choices. Out there, the storm can sweep me away unless I stay centered myself.

I’m working on remembering that not all things are happening to me. Some things are simply happening to the people I love and while that is enough to break my heart, I have to be careful not to take what isn’t mine. Other people’s pain belongs to them. I have plenty of my own to attend to, anyway.

Outside of my circle, there has been more loss. We’ve had quite a few past and present coworkers and acquaintances pass away these past couple of years and I worry the circle is closing in. Death spirals in, you know? So far these losses have been at arm’s length. Not enough to grieve, but just enough to disturb the illusion and remind you of your mortality. Just enough to make me feel grateful, too.

I am still here.

341 // Nothing More Than Maybes

I woke sometime in the middle of the night and felt at ease, relaxed, happy even in the certainty that I was waking to a Saturday morning in which I had nothing more to do than all the nothing I wanted. I was deeply disappointed when just a few short hours after my alarm went off and I remembered it was only Tuesday and I have many more days left before I can claim any significant time as my own.

Still, today isn’t so bad. There have been plenty of disappointments and quite a few setbacks, but for some reason today, none of it is bothering me. I’m going with the flow and seizing as many moments as I can.

The cause of this great turnaround, and the depression that came before, I’m beginning to believe, are almost entirely hormonal. Last week I felt as if a switch was flipped inside my mind. At that moment, the world lost its wonder and I lost my interest, and this morning, suddenly, the light is back on.

I’ve only just begun to get an inkling of the pattern and I won’t be sure until I’ve tracked a few months more at least, but this inability to maintain focus and motivation may not be entirely preventable—or my fault.

Today I’m staying inside. The weather has taken a late but sudden turn toward winter and the bitter winds blow right through to my bones. If I keep out of the frigid air there is hope yet for my general mood. I’m lucky to work in an office where I can control the thermostat and even if others want it kept low, I keep a small space heater under my desk for emergencies.

The warmth makes it easy to stay in my seat and focus on organizing some of these notebook pages and paragraphs into publishable pieces. I’m working on some small goals for 2022. Not resolutions so much as hopes. As I age, I realize that those “best-laid plans” go awry much more than just often. I have also realized that the things we think we want—from ourselves, for life, from others—change all the time.

I simply won’t be the same person 12 months from now. I won’t want the same things I do today. So, no promises, only hopes. Nothing more than maybes.

317 // Mismatch

My emotions are all over the place today. My wife and I are heading up to the mountains this evening for a little photoshoot and finding the right outfit has been… difficult.

I don’t much talk about my gender or gender expression here but over the years I’ve become more and more comfortable with the term “non-binary” and “they/them” pronouns. I’ve always been a little masculine of center in the way that I dress though it’s only that way because truly androgynous clothes do not exist in easily accessible or affordable department stores.

That being said, I was assigned female at birth and this body is more feminine than my inner self would like. This means there never seem to be clothes that fit quite right or make me look quite the way I see myself when I close my eyes.

It’s distressing to have your outer self exist in such contrast to your inner self and if you’ve never experienced this mismatch of sex and gender, of body and culture, you cannot understand.

So, each special occasion is accompanied by a minor breakdown and a wife at a loss how to help. Nothing helps right now but time. Nothing will help in the long run but losing a little weight and even then I’ll never be quite what I want. There has to be a higher dose of acceptance and perhaps adding time and a budget line for tailoring.

This morning the world is a little rosier, despite the cloud cover. The gloom is forecasted to lift by morning’s ends and I expect a cup of strong coffee and a hot shower will lift my spirits. Deep down I am looking forward to the photography, and the mountains, and a beautiful time with my love. I can’t say I’m not looking forward to the end too and to a cold glass of wine on the couch with warm blankets and a movie to lose myself in.

Until then, smiles on and one foot in front of the other. Nothing is ever as bad or scary as you imagine.

316 // Long-Earned

It’s a long-earned early day home from work this Friday. The weather is nice but I’ve decided to stay in and catch up on some notes and fragments I’ve collected in notebooks and across app timelines. I’ve got a window full of sunshine and Flow State Radio playing on in the background. I’ve got my timer on and a big cup of coffee from the Moka pot. I’m ready to work.

It feels good to be back in my little space, somewhere I have been away from for far too long. The reasons are all so varied it’s hard to know where to begin. Any explanation is only an excuse. Then again, an explanation isn’t really owed, is it? All I will say is so much has changed, I am changed, and I am excited to fill you in and catch you up, little by little.

For now, I simply want to celebrate a whole week of being brave. For those who don’t know, I’ve long suffered from severe driving anxiety. It has hindered my independence, limited my opportunities, and devastated my self-esteem, but this week real progress was made!

My wife and I got a second car this month, and it has been just the push I need to push myself past my fear. Every day I wake with knots in my gut. I want to cry or vomit or both every time I sit behind the wheel, but this week I drove, anyway. I drove to and from work, home for lunch, to get gas, and even to get a flu shot! I have so many more places I plan to go as I slowly, slowly, slowly venture out of my comfort zone.

This may seem a small victory to those for whom driving is nothing to fear at all, but just imagine your greatest fear—heights? spiders? snakes? germs?—and having to face it multiple times a day. This is what I am going through. I have faced it but the truth is I’m still afraid and will be for a long time, maybe the rest of my life, but there is a seed of confidence that grows each time I prove I can do it.

For now, I’m focusing on the positive alone. I am feeling capable, strong, and fully human. I feel good about myself and that turns out to be the most important change of all.