Drained

I am running on fumes. Yes, I write a lot that I'm tired. That's because I'm tired. And have been for a very long time. But I feel like I might have finally set myself up for awhile, and very soon I will get to just live my life and take a break from almost constant upheaval. We'll see.

I bought a house. It needs repairs. I'm scheduling and coordinating all that while working full-time. How does anyone get anything done? What is this world that we have created? I keep thinking how dumb and impossible it all is. 

I'm usually pretty positive. But I'm also very real. 

This is bullshit.

But anyway. We go on. This is what we have. This is the reality in which we live.

I am extremely grateful for the ability to buy a house. I sold my old one in June and bought a new one (to me) in July. I'll move after the repairs are done. Whenever that is. I can't really plan. I'm living hour by hour.

Tomorrow starts another week of work. I rested this weekend. Did as little as possible and was pretty successful at it. Sewed a little. Slept a lot. Went grocery shopping and somehow managed to get laundry done. How am I functioning?

I'm taking some PTO in a couple of weeks. I'm not going to do anything. Well, I might move. I might not. I don't know. But I'm going to think a whole lot less. I will eat, sleep, and sew.

So, yes, I am drained. 

But it's not just exhaustion. Something has changed with me. It has to be hormonal. Because I have changed on a fundamental level. After a lifetime of feeling an overwhelming amount of nurturing and maternal tendencies... I don't have them anymore. I mean, I still care. I still work in a caregiving profession. And I'm good at it. But I am changed. I can tell. I honor the primal yearning I used to have to raise my children, but I definitely no longer feel that way about other people's children. It has to be hormonal. The feelings have drained out of me over the last year.

I'm also bigger, and my metabolism has slowed down. I have less energy and more gray hairs with every passing day. I'm changing. We always are. But this is big. And interesting. I'm approaching it with curiosity.

So, yeah, I'm drained. But I'm also different. It feels unfamiliar, but I welcome it.

Art credit: CollageGirlKC; print above available for purchase here

Handle with Care

I cannot get really close to other people's children. The first two times I learned this lesson it hurt really bad. Now I'm learning it for a third time. It sucks, but it's softened because of my previous experience. I can enjoy others' kids, but they'll never be mine. They will never think to call me with good news. They will never think to call me with bad news. They will never think to call me.

Part of this is sad. Part of this is reality. It's just the way it is.

The first time I got hurt was a long time ago. I had just stopped trying to conceive, sold my children's house, and gone back to school. I wasn't invited to a friend's kid's 6th birthday party when I had been invited to everything else previously. I had already bought the birthday presents. Then I saw the pictures of the birthday party on social media. I wasn't invited. I was crushed.

The second time I got hurt was by my niece. It only happened two years ago. She's grown. An adult. But she was mean to me. So unnecessarily mean. I was blindsided. I never wrote about it and probably never will. Maybe I shouldn't have assumed we were as close as I thought we were, but I did. Not anymore. Now I know. Being an aunt doesn't guarantee an awesome relationship.

And, most recently, another person was in my life that I really cared about. Someone else's kid. Everything seemed fine until last week. Now I don't know what was real and what was fake. I choose to hold on to my good memories. I give myself grace while I process the rest.

It's okay to love people. It's important to love people. But love makes us vulnerable, and sometimes we get hurt. We feel our feelings, learn our lessons, get back up, and go on.

I'm not mad at myself for being sensitive, but I want to be more careful with myself in the future.

Sunday Reset

One of the best things about my job is having a regular work schedule. It makes it so much easier to have routines. Like Sundays for example. It's the day I do laundry and dishes. I clean out the fridge. I look at my planner for the week. It's a weekly reset for me, and it's made a huge difference in my life. What used to be overwhelming is now very satisfying.

I also notice I've been blogging on Sundays. I don't have a list of drafts. Every time I write a post, I open my laptop and start writing. When I'm done, I read over it a couple of times and publish it. It's become another part of my Sunday.

However, today my thoughts are scattered. I've been thinking that maybe I've been grieving a little lately. I've been so tired for so long, and I'm operating at maximum capacity. I keep doing stuff like preventative healthcare appointments and trying to buy a house because I feel like I am so close to being done with stuff for awhile. I might get a break from major life stressors soon.

It's okay. I knew this year would be tough. I am relieved that I'm past the halfway mark. 

But that's where the grieving comes in. It has taken so long to recover from infertility. It has taken so long to create a different life (one where I don't have kids) from the life I assumed I'd be living (being a mother). There were a lot of other things along the way, like my divorce and the pandemic. It's just been exhausting.

I noticed I was feeling a little sad for a couple of weeks. It wasn't about not having kids necessarily. It was more about how much time, energy, and resources it took to change my life. And yes, I'm very grateful for the time, energy, and resources, but I also get to say that it sucked. It sucked that so many other people got to live their lives as is while I poured myself into creating something completely new and unknown.

And then this weekend happened. Where I realized, by hearing about a loved one and their young adult kid, that my children will never do dumb shit and/or break my heart. My kids are not here. My heartbreak comes from not having them.

The contrast. Having kids, not having kids. 

And the similarities. Heartbreak all the same.

I've been quietly thinking about all of this as I've gone about my chores today. My laundry is done and my kitchen is picked up. I've got a grocery list written for tomorrow after work. I feel prepared for the upcoming week. I've still gotta keep going; I've got a lot to do at home and work for the next 1 - 3 months. Then I am hoping I can do less and merely maintain for the winter.

Thinking of you as we start a new week. I know things aren't easy for anyone right now. 💜

Cute infographic found on Notes by Thalia

Perspective

I put in an offer on a house. Looking for a house to buy was pretty much the last thing I felt like doing. I am SO tired. But... I saw one online that I loved. I knew that if it went pending before I even looked at it I'd be mad at myself. So I made myself find a realtor and looked at the house. 

I loved it.

Even if it all works out and I end up buying this house, I can't call it my forever home. I've already had three "forever" homes. The house my ex-husband owned when we got married, the house we bought for our children, and the house I bought in a small town in the middle of nowhere. At each place, I thought I could live there forever. But... I didn't.

Now I'm excited about a fourth house. Maybe it will work out. Maybe it won't. But I hope it does.

This isn't a house that is possible only because I don't have kids. It would actually be a great house for kids. The yard and floor plan are great, and it's by a park and zoned to good schools. 

But I don't have kids. Instead, it will be a great house for me, my boyfriend, and his adult son. 

Maybe.

For now, we wait. We get it inspected. We see how things go. But I am capable of waiting. I spent yearsss waiting. I got this. It will work out or it won't. 

Whatever happens, it won't be traumatic. I've already survived the worst.

The Last Onesies

For the first time in over 20 years, I do not own a single onesie. It's the end of an era.

I always wanted to be a mom. I dreamed about it as a kid and planned for it my whole life. Once my (now ex-) husband I started dating, I started buying onesies. I figured I wouldn't want to buy the cute, expensive onesies once the baby was here and I needed actual diapers and stuff. I had quite a collection, and then I gave them all away. 

All except for six onesies I couldn't give away. I needed to place them in the right home. 

And then I met a very cool co-worker. And I knew she would appreciate the onesies. We had a work event last week. She's out on maternity leave, but she came and brought the baby. I brought the onesies and gave them to her. I was right. She loved them. But what I didn't know is that one of the band onesies was one of her favorite bands! That was an awesome surprise. So she and I both have one of the same favorite bands. And yes, she already sent me pics of her newborn swimming in this onesie for 6-month-olds. She's excited that it's so big on him so he can wear it longer hahaha.

Didn't that work out?

Also, at the work event (it was a casual lunch), there were 4 women standing in a circle. Me, my co-worker with her baby, and two other co-workers. My co-worker asked us if we wanted to hold the baby and... All three of us said no! Hahahaha. It cracked me up. That's the largest group of women I've been in where no one wanted to hold the baby. Hahahaha. And my co-worker is cool. She didn't mind or take it personally. She was just offering. I loved it.

No more onesies for me! I don't own any. I won't be buying any. I don't want to be pregnant, and I don't want a newborn. I don't want a toddler, and I don't want a kid. My own children would be preteens and teenagers by now and that would've been fine with me. But they're not coming in this lifetime so I am living a different life. A life without onesies.

I'm glad the last 15 years are behind me. So so soooo glad.
I'm grateful for this new chapter. Hell, it's more than a chapter.
I'm grateful for this new book in the series of my life. I kicked my own ass to create it.

He's Not a Fan of Father's Day

My boyfriend hates Father's Day. Other than this blog, I don't have any social media so I didn't even realize it was Father's Day until we went mattress shopping today. The saleswoman that helped us was really nice. She asked us how we were celebrating Father's Day and told us she baked an apple pie for her husband yesterday. 

I totally didn't want to go mattress shopping this morning, but my back has hurt all week so I didn't have a choice. I had to go mattress shopping and I have to exercise. Over time, with a new mattress and a less sedentary lifestyle, I will feel better.

So will my boyfriend. Because it will no longer be Father's Day. I guess even fertile people can hate these types of holidays for any number of reasons. I don't know why my boyfriend does. He's not one to love holidays in general. Holidays can be hard. Expectations, anticipation, good memories, bad memories...

I'm living with my boyfriend's young adult son again. It's my fourth time living with him. The first three times didn't end positively, but it's okay. He was young, I'm Type A, and there were extenuating circumstances each time. We've talked about it. It's all in the past. And now we live at a fourth address together. It's our fourth town/city and our second state. 

I love my family. It looks different from how I imagined. I thought I would be raising kids. I did not raise kids. But I have my partner and his kid who is now a young man. (They grow up so fast! Haha. I laugh because he was grown when I met him. But now he is grown-grown.)

I am not a stepmom. I've heard other people call me that. A co-worker recently. One of my sisters one time. But I am not a stepmother. I didn't raise him. I wasn't around when he was being raised. I don't call him my stepson and he doesn't call me his stepmom. I'm just his dad's girlfriend that's still here, haha.

But we get along great. And over the years I got to have some maternal moments with him when I got to help him with a couple of different "adulting" type tasks. I enjoyed it. I didn't make a big deal out of it, but it was precious to me. 

I couldn't be with someone who had a kid if I didn't like their kid. I also couldn't be with someone who had a kid if they didn't put their kid first. Even when a kid isn't a minor anymore, they're still your kid. Especially in today's economy, they probably need some help.

I was definitely not interested in being with someone with a kid. But I met my boyfriend and his kid was grown and I thought I'd see how it went. And here we are. That's how it's gone. 

It's good! We are all here now. The three of us and the cats. I got a full-time job. My boyfriend and I made the move. And his son joined us several months later. It's a better spot for all of us. More jobs, better weather. We like it.

And so here I am, relaxing on the couch on Father's Day ignoring that it's Father's Day because my boyfriend hates it. His son is home upstairs in his room. The cats are napping. We are all content.

I told my boyfriend we could continue to ignore the day, but I'd make him an apple pie next year. That got a smile out of him. 

Apple pie picture and recipe found here on allrecipes.

Consideration Makes a Difference

In my short time at my new job, I've grown to really like my co-workers. All of them. Seriously. I'm having the best work experience of my life. It's long overdue and I don't take it for granted. (It's good to appreciate things while you have them because nothing lasts forever.)

My co-worker friend that was pregnant went on maternity leave a couple of weeks ago. 

(By the way, she thought we were peers and was shocked when I told her I was old enough to be her mother. Hahaha. That never gets old. I'm not glamourizing looking young because I don't even look young anymore. And I don't like promoting the idea that looking young is the ideal. I mention this because I think it's my attitude. I laugh a lot and seem genuinely happy and people assume I'm much younger than I am.)

Well, that was a digression. Anyway!

So my co-worker friend has been out on maternity leave. She texted me yesterday.

"Would you like to see a baby picture?"

Then she texted again.

"If not that's absolutely okay too"

How. Freaking. Considerate.

She just had a baby and still had the wherewithal to consider my feelings. (She knows I couldn't have kids.) And I *did* want to see a picture of the baby. I was waiting to hear he was here. At this point, I don't want to be pregnant or have a newborn (or a toddler or a kid... I'd be fine with a teenager or a young adult). It doesn't make me sad. Instead, I'm happy for my friend. I'm happy for her without being at all sad for me. (Which is a welcome change from 15 years ago!)

I texted back: "You are the freaking BEST to ask!!! And yes I want to see a picture."

She sent two. Neither of them are with her. Just him sleeping. A little man at one or two days old. 

I smiled. I zoomed in on his head of hair. I felt warm inside.

I also just found the last 5 - 6 onesies I kept. They're for a special person... They're my punk rock onesies. Some with cool prints on them. Some with funny sayings. Some with my favorite bands' names. They're all black. I haven't known anyone pregnant that would appreciate them. But I also couldn't just donate them. I collected them over a long time. They're very special to me and some of them are vintage at this point. !!!

This friend will like them. She will at least know who the bands are. So if I see her over the next month (I volunteered to come over and play with her toddler or do laundry or dishes if that would be helpful while she recovers), I'm definitely giving her these onesies. 

But how consider is that?
Asking if I wanted to see a picture of her newborn before just sending it?

And how cool is it that I wanted to see the picture? And that it made me feel good?

I love these cool changes (on my part and others') in this new life I'm living.

Quote and picture found at QuotesGram