Into the swim of things

I got back in the pool today!

First time since my surgery.

Second time since my prior surgery.

Yeah.

It’s been a minute.

I was thinking to myself, as I checked into the facility, that had I known how many times I would be out due to surgery, I wouldn’t have bought the year pass.

Sigh.

Oh well.

When I look back over the year, I got the membership last year at the end of January, so basically a year ago, I did have a good run to begin with.

Then I got hit with the appendicitis a few weeks into the membership in February.

That knocked me out for a while.

I got back into the pool about three, four weeks after the surgery.

Then I had the brachioplasty at the end of July and well, frankly, that one still hurts.

Not as bad, no not as bad at all.

But my arms were so damn tender and achy, for quite some time after. I literally could not lift my hands over my head for months, that I didn’t get back into the pool until months and months after that procedure.

And when I did, I barely managed 400 yards.

Half of that was kicking while holding a kickboard.

Then I was back getting surgery at the end of October.

That one little time I swam 400 yards was it for me.

Partially as I really wanted to stay COVID safe and so stopped prior to the next surgery.

But mostly because I was defending my PhD dissertation on October 15th and I had to bust ass on getting my stuff complete and preparing for the defense.

Then I had to get ready for the next surgery.

That surgery was done on October 26th.

Which seems like it was so long ago, but in reality, was just three months ago now.

I have been impatient at times with myself and wanted the recovery to go faster.

I am used to being strong and connected and embodied and not being able to move fast, well fuck, I could barely hobble around for weeks, it took a lot out of me. So much. Hell, I couldn’t even stand up straight for weeks.

And because it’s been a slow recovery I haven’t addressed a lot of things that I would like to have dealt with by now.

Like.

I still have things stacked up in my kitchen–boxes of research and my Christmas tree–that I have not put into storage yet because I can’t quite lift heavy things yet.

But.

I will soon.

I can feel it.

And despite being cleared for exercise a few weeks back, I just didn’t feel that comfortable with the idea of getting back into the pool.

Sometimes just taking a shower can zap the energy right out of me.

But something whispered to me last night, “go swim tomorrow,” and I did!

I got my swim bag out of the closet and loaded up my toiletry bag with all the things and checked to make sure I still had a working swim cap and goggles and I got my flip flops and queued everything up to walk out the door in the morning.

I didn’t even sleep in!

I can on Saturdays, but I didn’t.

I was up at 7:30a.m., without an alarm! I made my bed, did my routine, pulled on swim suit, put my binder over the top of it, and put on sweats.

I was out the door by 8a.m. and in the pool literally twenty minutes later.

And it hurt.

I won’t lie.

And.

It felt so damn good.

I mean.

I am tired now.

Like exhausted, swimming makes me really tired.

But it was also so lovely to be back in the water.

I thought that I was not going to be able to do much, the pain was pretty quick, but I was like, just swim a length and do a flip turn and if the flip turn fucks you up too much, get out.

I was pretty proud of myself for just getting in the damn pool in the first place.

And!

The flip turn did not fuck me up.

I was able to do it.

Yeah, again, there was some pain, but tolerable.

I knew I wasn’t going to push myself, but my arms felt pretty damn good and I felt like I could keep going so I did a bit more.

Not a crazy amount.

I mean, I swam 600 yards, that was it.

But it was luscious.

The water felt so good and I was happy to be back in my happy place.

I am not a super talented swimmer, but I am a decent swimmer, and just moving through the water with ease, albeit it slow ease, felt so damn good.

So I told myself, “good job kiddo,” and got out of the lane after my 600 yards and hit the showers.

I was happy to take it slow in the shower and slow getting dressed and just go gently.

Like really gently.

My body is still healing.

And.

It will continue to change for a bit yet, full recovery is estimated at 8-12 months.

I’m at 3 months.

I’ve still got a ways to go.

But, I’ll be back in the pool soon.

Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.

But that will be it for a few days.

Prior to all my surgeries I was swimming four to five days a week.

I’m going to start out with two days and see how it goes.

Soft and gentle.

Easy does it.

And it was nice to also be at the club, as it’s close to the Ferry Building, which had a farmer’s market today.

I bought myself some flowers and some late, I mean way late, end of season persimmons, and had a nice walk through the market, noticing all the things that are changing and the early signs of spring foods–radishes and lettuces and budding pussy willow branches.

I love a farmer’s market.

I came home afterward, had a lovely breakfast, with some of those persimmons, drank my latte and did a ton of writing.

I went grocery shopping.

I went to Dolores Park and hit up a friends birthday party.

And I walked 12,000+ steps today.

I am done in.

Like I said.

I wasn’t going to even write this blog, but something compelled me to.

Whatever it was, I have to say, it’s nice to be back here again too, doing the writing, dumping out the days’ contents onto the page and letting it go off into the ether.

My arms are sore.

Both from the swimming and from the writing.

But it is a good sore, a welcome sore, and let me tell you, I will be sleeping like a baby tonight.

Swimming through the stars, sliding through the water of the night into the morning.

When I will wake up and do it all over again.

Sweet dreams.

My friends.

Sweet dreams.

Too Tired

To vacation.

I mean.

To book a vacation.

I just tried and frankly it’s just not happening.

I have been thinking about going to Hawaii in July and staying in Paia, Maui where my grandmother was born in 1928.

I looked at flights.

I looked at Air BnB.

Nothing was appealing.

Nothing made me excited.

Granted I’m pretty worn out from today.

Today was my first real full day back to work and back with clients.

I’m tired.

My body is sore.

I thought about going out and doing the deal up in Bernal after I saw my last client, but I felt rather kaput and just drove home.

I did a phone check in and decided I wanted to walk down to the beach for the sunset.

Which was not spectacular, but it was pretty in its own way.

I thought about the conversation I had with my boss about this upcoming summer.

The family bought their tickets for their summer travel and they will be gone for six weeks!

Six weeks!

I am going to have six weeks of paid vacation from June 24th through August 4th.

I am thrilled.

Even though I am so fucking tired it’s hard to be excited right now.

I sort of just want to make tea and call it a night.

But I also thought maybe I should look at flights and places to stay and honestly it just wasn’t at all thrilling

I need to sleep on it and not pressure myself into buying anything yet.

I am not sure why exactly I’m hesitating, but I am and I’m just going to honor that.

It doesn’t feel quite right to book a trip right now and i don’t know why, but it doesn’t feel good.

Of course, I also note to myself that it was hella easy to book for Paris and I basically leapt on the deal I found.

Which was only $7 more than the round trip tickets I was looking at for Hawaii.

Granted, I got one hell of a steal on the tickets to Paris, but something about them being the same price basically and I just sort of balked.

Maybe I don’t want to go to Hawaii?

Will I be bored with ten days of lying around on the beach?

I mean.

I don’t know.

I’m just going to chalk it up to I’m tired, I shouldn’t decide anything when I am tired.

Call it a night.

Make some tea.

Rest some more.

The days off have melted away and I’m not fully 100% but life is back to being 100% on.

So I think I will not beat myself up about feeling indecisive about booking a trip and just chill out tonight.

I don’t need to figure out anything right now.

Not a damn thing.

Nope.

But hey.

I am going to have six weeks off.

Got any suggestions?

Love Letters

To a ghost.

That’s what he feels like now.

Ghostly.

It is still painful, I just teared up thinking about him as I was having dinner.

Being ever so careful to make sure that my musical selection to accompany dinner was nothing that we ever listened to together or music that reminds me of him.

Let me say there’s a lot I’m not listening to.

Somethings are pretty safe and I have absolutely no affiliation with the music to him.

Mike Doughty, which is cool since I’ll be going to his show this Wednesday at the Great American Music hall, is one.

My French house music app Bon Entendeur is another.

Although occasionally, as it happened to me tonight, something will just drift in and remind me of my love.

Cue tears.

I’m not crying unless I’m writing about him or talking about him.

Or thinking about him.

Sigh.

I know it will pass but it still feels raw and sad.

I have been wanting to write him a letter, nothing that I will send, but I have this notebook full of love letters to him that I had hoped one day to give him.

A great big full hard bound notebook full of love letters.

I thought about sending it to him in the first week that we broke up.

But I told on myself and it was suggested that I not do that.

That would, in effect, be courting contact when I said no contact.

And yes, I’m not going to lie, I wish he would contact me.

But I have motives and desires and specific wants and he wasn’t able to give those things to me.

I can’t imagine that really has changed in three weeks and one day.

But yeah, sometimes, too  frequently to be attractive, I do have this dream that he calls me up or shows up at my house and tells me things have changed and we can be together.

It’s stupid and it just hurts my heart to entertain the thought, so I don’t, or I don’t try to let myself entertain the thoughts too often.

I have wanted to write out a letter though in the notebook, but I wanted to have passed through the anger and hurt and grief and betrayed feelings I have and just have it be a sweet and final goodbye.

Sure.

Not one he’ll ever see, but just the process of closure for me.

I also recognize that there is still this flame of hope that things will change and he’ll come for me and if I was writing in the notebook I’d be somehow flaming that fantasy.

He’s not coming back.

Move on.

I haven’t been able to write poetry.

I think it would just hurt too damn much and I’m barely hanging in there.

Of course.

I have to mention I’m tired and the grief sneaks in when I am tired.

I was up this morning at 5a.m. to take my car over to Berkeley to get an oil change at my Fiat dealer at 7a.m. and I wanted to make sure that I had enough time to get over the bridge with traffic.

I got there with plenty of time to spare and ate my breakfast and drank coffee in my car waiting for the dealership to open.

So it’s been a long day and when it’s a long day and the tired hits the emotions do too.

Plus, I didn’t really have a day off yesterday.

I had to grind hard on a big paper that I’d been working on for a few days and really get it done.

I can’t remember a paper that I’ve spent this much time working on before, but such is life while pursuing a PhD.

Big, tough, all-consuming papers will happen.

I got it done, my laundry, met with a ladybug, met with my person, did food prep and cleaned my house, finished the huge paper and sent it out.

I did not have a day off.

So just diving right into my week by having to get up at 5a.m. to get the oil change was not how I wanted to start my week, but I am grateful its done.

I didn’t want to risk going too long with the oil change light coming on and the dashboard lighting up and telling me I needed an oil change every time I started the car.

It’s done.

The big paper got turned in last night and I’m already at work on another paper for another class that’s due this Thursday.

Fortunately, this second paper is more in align with what I like to write and I was able to get a lot of it done at work and I spent an hour in a cafe after work writing too before I went to do the deal.

And all along.

He was in my mind.

I stumbled upon an old text chain I didn’t realize was on my phone.

Said text corresponded to when I started writing him the love letters in the notebook.

He told me in one of the texts he wanted to read those letters.

(God damn his texts were always so freaking sweet)

Honestly.

I want him to as well.

They are beautiful letters.

I write a nice letter.

Not to brag, I just do.

But no contact means no contact and they’re just going to sit here on my desk for a little while yet.

I have written him a lot when I think about it, heaps of cards, post cards, love letters, poems.

I could probably put together a chapbook of the poetry I’ve written about him.

Maybe one day I’ll figure that out.

Right now though.

I’m not writing him any letters, outside of the ones I compose in my heart and keep in my heart, to him.

I can’t bear to yet.

I just can’t.

I want to stop missing him first.

Otherwise I’ll just keep breaking my heart over and over and over again.

I don’t think I can handle anymore broken heart.

I’m too damn tender right now.

Too heart sore.

Too sad.

I miss him too much.

Too damn much.

 

20,650 Steps

That’s how much I walked today.

I wasn’t even sure I was going to write this blog.

I just got out of a bath at the Air BnB I’m staying at in Brooklyn and I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes and I could have stayed there all night.

I mean.

I think I was lying there for at least five minutes, maybe more.

I got up though to put on lotion.

My skin has been changing a little, getting a little dryer as I get older and I don’t like how it feels, so I got up, slathered on some lotion and figured I would at least make an attempt at writing something.

I really did walk that many steps.

I actually walked more than that, I didn’t carry my phone with me all day, so there were a couple of flights of steps not counted and some pattering around the house exploring, but mainly, I was on the move today.

From flying out last night to landing here this early afternoon to strolling all over Brooklyn, I had quite a day.

I am pretty damn beat.

I got about three hours of sleep on the plane.

Not my best showing.

But I am sure I will catch up on that tonight.

And since I’m not on a schedule I can sleep as long as I like.

I have two plans for tomorrow.

The first is the Brooklyn Museum to see the David Bowie Exhibition and the Judy Chicago show.

The second is to see an old friend from SF who moved here years ago and go do the deal tomorrow night at 7:30p.m.

He and his girlfriend started something up a little while back that apparently is like what recovery is in San Francisco.

I had to laugh, since I’m a regular attendee at a spot that models itself after recovery in New York.

It’s always better where you got the message first.

So I will get a little piece of San Francisco tomorrow night, which is sweet.

It’s nice to still be connected to friends 13 years later.

I don’t foresee as much walking tomorrow as I did today.

The walking was actually not really planned.

I decided to walk around the neighborhood a little after I had gotten settled in and had taken a nice shower to wash off the airplane travel.

One block lead to another and another and another.

I like the neighborhood.

Very residential, lots of row houses.

God, I love the brown stones in Brooklyn.

And I love the culture of sitting on the stoop or in the front part of the brownstone, what would be a yard, but is just a square of cement patio.

I loved seeing so many people sitting out on the stoops and watching the neighborhood go by.

I felt like I fit in.

I could see living in Brooklyn, this part of Brooklyn anyway, I’m not quite as much of a fan of Williamsburg, which is quaint, but doesn’t have the row house appeal of this part of Brooklyn.

Bed-Stuy, Fort Greene, Clinton Hill.

Gorgeous houses.

They get fancier and fancier the closer to the water you get.

By the time I had walked to the Brooklyn Heights promenade I was pretty in awe of the houses.

So pretty.

Of course, I’ve only been here when it’s warm, I don’t know that I could deal with the winters, I know they are vicious.

I had enough winters being in Wisconsin as long as I was.

It’s warm, the day was warm, not too hot, it will get warmer as I stay.

Today was about 80 degrees, by Saturday it’s supposed to be low 90s.

It’s going to be hot, hot, hot.

But I will enjoy that too, when the sun goes down and I’m still outside walking around in a light weight dress.

I wore my bibs out today and got lots of compliments on them.

I also got lots of compliments on my tattoos.

I was actually surprised to not see more folks with tattoos, could just be the part of the city I’m in, who knows.

I had a conversation outside a coffee shop on Lafayette Avenue with a youngish girl who wanted to pick my brain as she was planning her first tattoo.

We had quite the conversation.

I like that I can just fall into talking with people, it feels nice.

I did have a moment of feeling a tiny bit lonely tonight when I was back at the Air BnB having procured food from the Whole Foods three miles away.

That was the last stop on my walk, and I have to say, I was a bit out of it by that point.

But.

I did manage to wrangle up breakfast food, coffee, snacks, cold brewed coffee, bottled water, and fruit for the rest of the week.

I plan on eating breakfast at the house and then other meals out.

Although I only ate one meal out today, and it wasn’t with much fan fare, though I have to say, it was nice to eat it outside on the patio at the joint I went to in Fort Greene.

Dinner I didn’t have it in me to plan, cook, or go out for, I was too tired after getting back from the grocery store.

I made oatmeal and a hard-boiled egg.

I’m sure I will eat out plenty the rest of the week.

Anyway.

I’m happy to be here and excited for sleep and to see what the rest of the week shall bring.

Here.

Let me at least leave you with a few photos:

And now.

Now.

It is time for the rest.

Seriously.

 

Big Days

It’s been an intense couple of days.

I will not lie.

I have had the reflux really bad.

Horrible.

I couldn’t write last night, I debated writing tonight.

But i just ate and that seems to help.

Until it doesn’t.

I went to the new GI yesterday.

Good news.

He believes that the reflux is not caused by something I’m eating.

Which is fantastic because if it was I’d be seriously fucked.

I had the reflux today so bad today it was extraordinary.

And the foods that “caused” it would be oatmeal with an apple and blueberries, 1 hard-boiled egg, an almond milk latte (breakfast) and a large salad at lunch with a sm pear and a small banana that I chopped up and put cinnamon, nutmeg, and sea salt on.

And I was on fire.

All damn day.

I woke up with a tiny bit of a reprieve but the minute I drank a glass of water, water people, I began to get lit up.

Usually it doesn’t start so damn soon, usually I have at least until lunch time, but no, it fucking flared right up.

That week or so, that eight days, I think, maybe nine, when I didn’t have it is like a ghost of a dream, I cannot even fathom what that was like I have been in such pain.

So.

Yeah.

Almost not writing.

But I miss the writing and I think it helps me to process out all the days crap and how I feel like crap, just writing about it, I know it helps.

It makes my brain feel better, even if the rest of me doesn’t.

Besides, there’s a lot to write about too, the GI like I said, great appointment.

Super nice doctor much better experience than the previous GI, did a really in-depth work up and said the thing that I had been waiting for, the aforementioned, I don’t think it’s what your eating.

He told me the reason for this was the Omperazole I was taking wasn’t affecting it, even when I doubled the dose, it should have worked, but it did nothing for me.

Four fucking months of nothing for me.

Anyway.

Thank God he listened to me and after describing my symptoms he wants to do the endoscopy and a ph test and a wire test.

Apparently a wire gets inserted through the nose, down the esophagus and into the stomach and it measures the reflux.

It sounds freaky as fuck, but whatever, I just want to deal with the issue.

I can’t continue being in this kind of pain.

It’s untenable.

I’m waiting to hear back from the doctor’s office, he said they would call to set up a time for me to go in.

I was rather thinking I would get the call today and was a bit disappointed, especially as the day went on and the reflux got worse, that I never got one.

If I don’t hear back tomorrow by lunch time I’ll call the office myself.

I’m not sitting around and waiting.

Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day too.

First day of my last weekend of class!

Last weekend of class!

I could just write that five times more it makes me so happy to see those words.

Last weekend of class!

I’m really ready to be done, and it’s probably also because I’m in pain and it’s hard to focus on things when I’m in pain.

Thank fucking God I didn’t have the reflux while I was working on my papers.

Ugh.

That would have been hell.

It’s been hard enough to stay present with my clients.

Tonight was rough.

I actually did something I don’t normally do, I sipped water the entire time through my sessions.

I needed to keep my throat lubricated and the water was also a brief, and I do mean brief, respite from the acid in my throat and nose.

I got a pretty splendid headache by the end of the sessions and I think I was running a fever again.

Anyway.

Not complaining.

It is what it is and I’m going to be seen again and have the procedures done and something will come out of that, I will get relief, it will be figured out.

All I have to do tomorrow is show up.

I decided to take my car since I have clients after class and it’s gotten really cold the last few nights.

Hello spring.

Hello early summer fog.

The fog!

I watched it tumble in again tonight as the sun was going down in my office and it was cold when I left.

I was planning on taking my scooter, but the weather looks the same and if I feel like crap again I would rather be in my car than on my scooter on a cold foggy night after seeing clients and having a big day at school.

So.

Taking the car and biting the cost of parking and saying fuck it, I’m worth being comfortable and warm.

I have more to say, I had some exciting news yesterday, but I think I’ll save that for tomorrow.

I’m pretty worn down and I need rest.

It’s going to be a big weekend.

See you on the flip.

I’d Like To Speak

To the manager please.

Except.

I didn’t say that.

I did say, nicely, politely, with lots of pauses and deep, slow breathing, that I had been calling every day for the last four days, four, and that I really wanted to make an appointment with the doctor.

REALLY.

I expressed how much pain I have been in and how it’s been really hard to not be able to get through to the part of the story where I make an appointment and I’m seen.

REALLY fucking hard.

The woman on the line gave me another number to call.

How many fucking numbers am I going to have to call to get to be seen?

I am not good at this, and I wonder, is anyone?  But I played along and called the next number and sure as shit, I got a voicemail saying please leave a message and someone will get back to you within the next 24 hours.

Fuck you.

I mean.

REALLY.

I hung up.

I called my person, I left a teary message.

I sank down on the floor and cried a little.

The baby was playing by the train set and the oldest boy was in his room with a new Lego set grandma had gotten him.

I had a minute to cry and then I got up, blew my nose, and started a kettle for a cup of tea.

You know who called me back?

My person.

Fucking love him.

And he told me to get up early and go to the doctor’s office in person and make the appointment there and demand to be seen.

Ugh.

Just the thought of trying to do that felt horrendous and huge and awful and I had this inkling that the mom was going to ask me to come in early, which she did, but more on that later, and I couldn’t imagine getting up early, driving down town and marching into CPMC Sutter and pounding on the desk to get an appointment with the GI specialist that my doctor referred me to.

But.

I was willing to take it as a suggestion.

Honestly though, I wasn’t sure I could do it.

Fortunately.

A few hours later when I was wrapping up dinner dishes and the family was happily eating dinner, I got a call back!

I was shocked.

It was 5:30 p.m. and I wasn’t expecting any kind of response after 5p.m. had rolled on by.

It was the manager of the office!

She was super kind and very apologetic.

She’d listened to my message and combed over the records from the answering service and apparently there was no record of any of the phone calls I had made.

Not a single one!

I have called the office every day since I got the referral on Monday.

Monday, two hours after the initial appointment at One Medical.

On Monday I was told that the office hadn’t had a chance to look at the referrals yet and the doctor would look them over and call on Tuesday.

By three p.m. Tuesday I hadn’t heard a thing.

So I called and spoke to a woman who took all my information and assured me that someone from the office would get back to me in the next 24 hours.

24 hours later, Wednesday around 3 p.m., nada, not a single fucking call.

So.

I called back.

This time I got through to the doctor’s office and was told that they had never received a fax from the referring doctor.

Fuck my mother.

So.

I called One Medical, and they denied that, insisted they’d faxed it, but said, hey, we’ll do it again.

Then the guy at One Medical did me one better, I have to say I am impressed so far with them, great customer service, he called the office himself.

He then called me back and said he’d re-faxed the paper work, apparently the fax machine at the GI’s office had gone down on Monday and they were inundated with a back log of faxes.

Sure.

Sounded an awful lot like the dog at my homework, but whatever.

So I called back to the office and spoke to a woman there who said they’d received a partial fax, but not the entire thing and the doctor would call me tomorrow.

Which brings me to today.

And no phone call by 3 p.m.

Which led me to call the office again and this time I got the answering service again and I got upset and I was not in tears, but I was pissed, and I held it together, but I made it super clear to the woman I was talking to that I wasn’t going to leave a message so that I could be called back in the next 24 hours, I was in pain and I had been trying since Monday and I needed help.

That’s when she gave me the manager’s number, although at the time I thought she was giving me a direct number to the GI’s office.

No such luck.

Grateful though, that I pushed and got through to someone and really grateful that the woman took the time to call me back, after business hours, get me into the system fully and assured me that she would personally make it her business to have the doctor’s office book my appointment tomorrow.

I admit, I had a fantasy that I would get the referral and already be done with it by this point and have some sort of resolution.

And although that’s not what happened, at least I do know that I have taken the next step towards something.

I hope to hell I can get this taken care of.

I am so tired of it.

Really.

Really.

REALLY.

Tired.

Once More

Into the breach.

My friends.

Once more.

My fourth weekend of my final semester of my Master’s program begins tomorrow.

I will be kicking it off by doing a case presentation on a client for my Integrative Seminar program.

I feel like I have already kicked it off, so to speak, by all the preparations I have done this evening–laundry, hot, hot, hot shower and washing the hair, packed up my notebooks and folders, roasting a chicken, roasting as I write.

I know.

I know.

I said I wasn’t going to roast any more chickens.

But my fucking reflux hasn’t gotten any better since taking that particular food out of my diet for a week and a half, hell, almost two weeks.

In fact, I haven’t really noticed too much of any kind of change despite my valiant, they feel valiant to me, efforts to really be good about my food.

I mean.

Fuck.

How many god damn kale salads can a girl eat?

I have eaten salad every day for lunch for the last week or so.

I have eaten super simple food.

Lots of oatmeal.

Brown rice.

Shrimp.

Lean ground turkey.

I haven’t eaten citrus, garlic, onions, fatty meats, tomatoes, dairy, for the most part, put a spot of it in my tea today when I ran out of unsweetened almond milk at work, no sugar, no flour.

I have, however, eaten a fuck load of Tums.

And.

I have chewed a lot of gum.

I have also drank a lot of fucking apple cider vinegar.

I am fucking tired of drinking apple cider vinegar.

It seemed to work really well and then over the last week, not so much, some relief, but the reflux comes back with a vengeance.

I have it super bad now and like I said, I ate fantastically well today.

Oatmeal with apples and blueberries for breakfast.

Kale salad with veggies for lunch, apple and blueberries with roasted pumpkin seeds for dessert.

Dinner was sautéed shrimp with broccoli and a cup of brown rice.

Didn’t fucking matter.

Still in so much pain I want to vomit.

“You look tired,” my eight year old charge told me today as we were going up the stairs to his house.

We had an awesome adventure out to FirePie Pizza.

I know the founder and CEO and I had asked him if I could bring in my charge.

A few months ago I was out with my oldest charge, ran into my friend, introduced them and when we walked off my charge said, “who was that?”

And I replied, “he owns FirePie!”

“What!” My charge yelped, “I love FirePie! You know the owner!?”

He was star struck.

So.

I arranged for a private tour of the kitchen and today my little charge got to put on an apron and get in the kitchen and cook his own pepperoni pizza.

Two actually.

And to my utter amazement, he ate one entire pizza when he got home.

Pride of ownership I think.

It was really adorable to do it and I am very happy my friend accommodated us so sweetly.

My charge, however, was right.

I am fucking tired.

Six and a half hours of over time this week.

Three and a half today and three yesterday.

I’ve come in early the last couple of days.

And two out of my three charges have been sick all week, and today was parent teacher conferences at school, so nobody went to school and I had all three monkeys while the parents met with teachers.

I was great, if I do say so myself, I made them pancakes for breakfast, I let them watch movies in their pajamas, we had fun building cars out of cardboard boxes and duct tape.

The baby napped on me in the carrier for two and a half hours.

And I took the oldest boy to make pizza with his own private tour of FirePie.

#winning

#whosyournanny?

And.

I have had horrendous, unrelenting reflux pain every day this week.

Gah.

Maybe I’ll try some more apple cider vinegar, it hurts so bad right now.

And that helped, a little.

Oof.

Hopefully that nullifies things for a little while.

I will say I am fucking hydrated as fuck.

I did make an appointment with One Medical for Monday.

I could have gotten in today, but there was no one I could have given the family such short notice without being short of dying.

And though it feels like I’m dying sometimes I am capable of showing up and working.

Monday though.

Monday I am going into see a new doctor, I’ve joined a new organization and hopefully I will get some relief.

I just can’t take it much more.

Plus.

I really want to enjoy the next few months.

Or next month and a half.

I only have one more weekend of classes after this one.

Then.

I graduate!

I really am so excited for that.

I am already getting emails from the PhD program and I will be registering soon for the fall semester, no rest for the wicked.

But.

There will be a party.

And there will be vacation time.

And I want that time to be enjoyable.

I started doing a little bit of party planning with my best friend who is helping me organize and do set up with another dear friend of mine.

I’m trying to come up with a graduation theme.

I was thinking “Gidget Graduates.”

I’m having a beach bonfire party at Ocean Beach.

I thought it might be cute to have some sort of theme, 50s or 60s beach party.

I found this super cute Gidget book cover that I think the movies were based on.

“The little girl with big ideas.”

Kind of cute.

Or I might go Frankie Avalon and Annette.

Anyway, it’s going to be fun and I’m looking forward to it and I want to through the next two weekends of classes and get all my papers done and in.

After tomorrow’s presentation I have two papers left.

Two.

I am so ready to be done.

So ready for a break.

From school.

And from my tummy.

Seriously.

 

Long Days

I don’t feel much like writing, truth be told.

Habit I suppose.

To sit and write.

Although I’m semi obsessed with a playlist I’ve been making on Spotify.

My head’s just not in it right now, the writing not the music.

I sang my heart out driving home tonight.

Good thing there wasn’t much traffic out there, I did not need to be witnessed in my crazy torch song belt out.

It was a long day.

Mondays are and I have to remind myself of that.

Supervision in the morning was intense.

I had to terminate a client today so there was a lot to cover and I have another termination on Thursday.

It’s tender work.

I’m super glad for my supervisor, he’s a really good match for what I need to be learning.

I have seven weeks left with him.

ON one hand I am rather glad for that.

To not have to be in Hayes Valley every Monday morning at 9 a.m. is going to be a relief, to avoid rush hour morning commuter, that would be divine.

I will miss his guidance though, he’s hyper intelligent and has an amazing way of showing me how therapy works.

He also believes that I am a good therapist, kick ass in his words, and that’s nice.

Although I would probably never say that to him when he’s got a critique of my technique or the work I’m doing with clients, I think he’d give me quite the look, “hey, don’t you remember when you said I was a kick ass therapist?”

No?

Heh.

We did a fuck load of work today it felt like two sessions packed into one.

I covered a lot of client material.

And then I got assigned a new client.

Whew.

My head was a little spun today.

Distracted and not really present.

I did try to get grounded and I was able to sneak in a shopping trip to the grocery store in between work and supervision, which was so helpful, I shouldn’t have to do any more shopping before the upcoming school weekend.

Gah.

I am exhausted thinking about that.

I’m not ready.

I have to write another paper and I have a bit more reading to do.

I am tired.

And it’s Monday.

And.

The mom reached out and asked me to come in early again on Wednesday, so that’s a ten-hour day.

After a twelve-hour day, today, an eleven hour day tomorrow, which might morph to a twelve hour day, I have a homework assignment to speak with a licensed MFT and that’s tomorrow after I wrap with clients.

Sigh.

I’ll get it all done.

And maybe going in early on Wednesday isn’t such a bad thing, I can take my laptop with me and do some work while the baby is napping.

Fingers crossed that neither of the older kids are home sick from school.

If I just have the baby for the first half of the day I could actually do some homework at work while he naps.

I did manage to get a little bit of reading done today and I found another source of material for the annotated bibliography I have to put together for the class.

This is the kind of crap I’m not good at.

Actually.

That’s not true.

I am good at most academic work, I just don’t find this interesting and when I am bored with a topic I’m not compelled to do the work.

But.

Well.

Fuck.

It’s a required and I’m almost halfway there, halfway through this final semester.

I’m ready for a break.

I know.

I know.

I just applied to a PhD program, but hey, there’s the summer to come.

Still waiting on my friend’s parents to get back to her, by the way, regarding buying tickets to Paris.

I stopped looking.

I’m just going to sit and wait until she reaches out.

I’m willing to spend what needs to be spent.

I don’t need to obsess on when I buy them.

I have realized though that I won’t be able to do the dream work seminar and retreat that I was going to go on withe some friends in my cohort, it would mean unpaid time off and I’m just not going to do that right now.

I will have to take unpaid time off if I get into the PhD program as there’s a retreat that starts out the program in the fall, but aside from that I really won’t be taking any other time off except for when the family is on vacation.

Who am I to complain?

I’m going to get five weeks off paid.

I won’t mind having an unpaid week off to pursue my educational goals.

I can hardly believe it sometimes.

I got notification today that my last set of transcripts were sent out to the school today.

Which means they department will have all my materials soon and can process my application.

Shit.

Ugh.

I almost forgot.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I need to apply to the Diversity Scholarship.

It’s five thousand dollars.

I can really use that.

Five thousand less in student loans is nothing to sneeze at.

When the fuck am I going to get that done?

The application deadline is March 15th.

That gives me ten days.

Sigh.

I’ll get it done.

Oof.

I am tired.

I was going to go to yoga in the morning before therapy.

I think I may skip it and just let myself get some rest.

Even just a half hour is going to do me well.

And with that.

I am going to bid you adieu.

I am tuckered out.

Seriously.

 

 

Oh, That Thing

I completely and totally forgot I had to send in a bio for the lecture series I’m participating in next Tuesday.

Jesus, like in six days.

Don’t I still have homework to do?

Oh my God.

I have so much going on, I’m so tired, I’m fucked, how is it all going to happen?

I mean.

I’m fine.

It’s just going to be a push, it will come together.

I only wish the people who are in my group project would chill the fuck out.

I don’t actually give a flying fuck about my final group project for Transpersonal, I have so many other things on my plate but one of the people in my group has been sending out these huge text messages about how we need to talk to each other and make it cohesive and blah, blah, blah.

I got the text and lost it.

Not on her.

Not in general.

Just kind of in a melting, I don’t have energy to even read this text kind of way, to coordinate a time to talk about the project when I am busy thinking about this other project and all the papers I still have to write and all the things.

My God, all the things.

But.

Sigh.

Breathe.

It’s ok.

It’s all working out.

I just have to do what ever the next thing in front of me is.

And.

You know.

Be gentle about it, be nice about it, be kind about it, not blow up on my friend in the group because she wants it to work smoothly.

I just already know how much energy I have to give to any certain thing and the energy it took to respond was about all I had to give.

I did get the bio done and I did send it off to the producers and I got a big thank you and that they quite liked how I had written it and then a nice thank you for participating and that they are really happy to have me as part of the project.

I am too.

Even though it means having a full schedule this week, I’m on board.

Here’s the event again if you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about:

People Who Usually Don’t Lecture.

It’s going to be a fun night and I’m grateful I get to do it.

I’m excited and a little nervous too.

I have been practicing and I started carrying the lecture with me, I did a little work on it today at work when I had five minutes of down time.

And it was seriously, the only five minutes of down time I had all day.

It was a full tilt boogie kind of day at work.

And even when I got home from work.

I did some food prep and then did a bunch of homework.

I finished half of the online assignments for the Psychopharmacology portion of my class.

The other part is a final paper on the Human Sexuality aspects of the class.

I should be able to finish the rest of the online stuff either tomorrow or Friday.

I was just too tired after coming back from my evening commitment and the business that had to be discussed after the meeting, end of the month stuff.

Sigh.

I really wanted to bounce, but was basically wrangled in and I’m grateful for that, there were things that I was able to help with, but I was so tuckered out that I considered not writing my blog.

Work really zapped me.

But.

It wasn’t horrible, just full.

The dad’s been away on business for two days and juggling three kids and her own private business has made the mom super busy and in turn me super busy.

And also, super validated.

Really sweetly validated.

The mom has just been nice as pie to me and it’s nice to be told that I’m doing a good job and that I am so appreciated.

And!

Oh my God.

I don’t know if it will work, but I had mentioned that my supervisor thinks I’m going to have to quit being a nanny at some point and devote a year of my life to working, probably unpaid, at a school to get my child hours and how that rather stressed me, I get anxious when my finances are threatened, and hey, privileged white guy, I’m super stoked that you were able to get all your hours in one year because you didn’t have to work a job to pay rent, that you had money from other sources.  Bully for you.

I don’t have money like that.

I don’t have a year to not work.

Unless somebody has some for me to take a year to work unpaid, um, it’s just not fucking happening

It’s like the dirty little secret of getting your MFT license, you have to accrue a lot of hours, 3,000 to be exact, and most of them are completely unpaid.  I’m basically volunteering 10-12 hours a week for no money.

So unless you have some outside income, family, spouse, etc, it’s hard to get those hours quickly.

It takes time to acquire them if you have to work a full-time job.

And I do.

I have to work a full-time job to support my continued living in San Francisco.

Frankly I don’t know where I would go anyway.

All my support systems are here.

There really is no where else for me to go.

Anyway.

I shared some of this with the mom and she said, “it’s too bad you can’t get hours for being a nanny.”

OHMYGOD.

The thing is.

I could.

It was suggested I check it out and I talked to my supervisor about it and he said, yeah, it’s possible, but most families won’t want to deal with the paper work, the supervision, etc.

I told the mom that and she said, “I don’t have a problem signing something.”

Holy shit.

Now.

This is not to say that it’s going to necessarily happen, but options, baby, options.

I’m going to research it further.

As though I don’t have enough to think about.

Anyway.

That’s it.

I’m done.

Good night.

I have to get up early and move the car and shower.

Sweet dreams lovelies.

Sweet dreams.

 

Turn On The Heat

It’s cold out there.

The rains are coming.

It’s November.

Hello.

The chill in the air, with the almost full moon rising, was spooky and intense, bright and crisp, fall is here, winter is coming.

I hopefully will be getting a car soon, as I noted that there is rain in the near forecast.

I don’t have the time to do it before the rains start and I have some homework yet to do, but I’m pretty decided and as soon as I have the down time I will be getting my butt to a dealership in the East Bay.

Soon.

Not soon enough to save me from some more cold scooter rides home, or wet rides home.

I am still debating riding in to work tomorrow on my scooter, even though there is some rain in the forecast–it’s off and on and not 100% rain all day.

There are windows of time when it’s not raining and they both fall around when I would be going into work and when I’d be coming home.

I get to come home early tomorrow, both of my clients cancelled and instead of trying to squeeze in a consult, like I did tonight when my client cancelled, I decided to take the night off and just come home.

Take a hot shower.

Wash the week off of me.

Cook myself a nice dinner.

Be cozy.

Reflect on my life and the last six months.

My God.

The last six months.

So much love.

So much change.

Some quiet and private.

Some big and public.

Lots of internal change.

Loads.

And just extraordinary amounts of gratitude for where I am in my life and the people I get to spend time with.

I am so lucky.

If the rain stays away and the cloud cover is not to bad, it might be a great night to go down to the beach for the full moon.

It will be full at midnight tomorrow, but I suspect that it will look full when it rises, I thought it was full tonight as it was coming up.

I had to check online to see when it was complete.

Tomorrow.

Midnight.

The witching hour.

Magic.

Love.

The ocean.

Dancing on the beach.

Wrapping myself up in love.

The full moon reminding me of you.

Of promise.

Of joy.

Of laughter that falls from my mouth.

How sustained I am and how loved.

My life is extraordinary, even when I am tired, like I was today and a little bit in H.A.L.T.

Hungry.

Angry.

Lonely.

Tired.

I was hungry since I didn’t have the best lunch, not a bad lunch, no not at all, just not the lunch I’d planned, as the container that my chicken soup was in broke in my scooter basket and I had chicken soup all over my school books, shoes, and paperwork.

Sigh.

Tired.

As I went to bed late.

Not horribly late, just later than normal and up a little earlier to help the mom out at work by coming in a half hour early.

Lonely.

Well.

Sometimes a girl gets lonely.

I was listening to Coleman Hawkins today, late afternoon, at work, the mom had all the kids and I was at the house waiting for an important delivery and doing food prep and cleaning and household stuff.

The music moved me.

The view moved me.

I danced by myself.

Dreamy and slow, folding the laundry, looking out the window towards downtown San Francisco, dreaming of being in another’s arms.

Angry.

Well.

It passed.

But it was there for a little bit.

I got boonswoggled into a playdate/babysitting gig, without compensation.

I felt manipulated, annoyed, angry, pissed off, victimized and aware that, in the passive aggressive text, I had been played.

Or so it felt.

And I knew that I was tired and I knew that I was lonely and I knew that I was hungry, so I prayed and asked for it to be removed and I asked myself what my fear was, and I asked if I needed to manipulate through withholding my honest response, and I asked myself to see the situation with perspective and wait for clarification before getting more pissed off.

Which I’m very happy for.

I also had a snack.

Which fucking helped.

And I took some ibuprofen, too much carrying the baby this week in the carrier, which is how I started out my day, so I was a bit sore and tender all day too, which helped.

Then I had a talk with the mom and we divided and conquered and, yes, I will, in a way be baby sitting–I’m just going to call it an extended play date, but it is for a charge I have already had, who I love so dearly that I am more than happy to help and that the mom is taking two of her three kids, so that I will just have two to take care of, instead of the four I thought I was going to be saddled with, and it doesn’t happen til next Wednesday and fuck if I’m going to be upset about it and carry it forward.

Thank God for spot check inventory.

Also.

Thank God for getting home and making myself a nice hot meal, pan-fried Japanese sweet potato with garlic and pulled meat from a roasted chicken with melted butter.

That along with turning up the heat in my studio and realizing it’s Friday tomorrow and I have wonderful plans for it and I’ll get a paycheck and my health insurance stipend and really, there are no problems.

None.

Just love.

Abundance.

Perspective.

Joy.

And the nearly, almost, not quite, but soon to be.

Full moon.