A Table is not the Hearth of the Home

I'm tired of furnishing temporary places. When my boyfriend and I moved together for the first time, we knew we weren't staying there past our lease but I didn't understand why he didn't unpack his boxes. I understand now. When you know you're not staying somewhere, it doesn't make sense to totally unpack everything. And now, in addition to not unpacking, I no longer want to buy or acquire things for temporary spaces either.

I've had three homes that I thought I would be in for a long, long time. When I got married, he already had a house and I was fine living there. Then we ended up buying a house for our future children that was closer to his job. I thought we'd be there for at least a decade. Then, when I bought my own little house in a small town, I thought I'd live there forever.

Obviously, I don't live in any of those places anymore, but I'm lucky that I had them. They all felt very happy and secure at the time. Then it was time to move on from each place.

And now I am in my current rental. When I first moved in, I daydreamed about loving the place, buying it, and never moving again. But as much as I like and appreciate my rental, I don't love it. Plus, it's not for sale. Plus, I probably couldn't afford it. So that's that.

I don't have a dining room table in the rental. I gave away the one we had before we moved. We used it for eating, and I used it for sewing. It was fine, but I didn't want any furniture from my former marriage anymore. It was one less thing to move. Then, when we moved here, I bought a new table. It was necessary. It's a work table though. For my sewing machine, not for eating. 

My mom really wants me to have a dining table. She thinks it's important. But it's not important to me. (See the first sentence of this post.) She said something along the lines of, "You need a table. It's important to eat dinner together. It's where you talk about your day."

So I reminded her: "I'm not raising kids." 

"Oh," she said.

I assured her that my boyfriend and I are well aware of each other's days.

She said, "Yeah, when it's just your dad and me, we eat in the tv room a lot." My mom's inability to see my life continues to surprise me. Part of me feels hurt; part of me understands.

And I do want a table. I'm just not buying or acquiring anything for this place.

Happy Other's Day

On this day that doesn't celebrate me in a world that doesn't acknowledge my experiences, I will share with you a couple of things that happened at work this week.

I think we can all agree that I have pretty much stopped giving a shit over the years. I mean, I still worry too much and I still get anxious, but so much that I used to worry about no longer bothers me. And that is a good thing.

Take infertility and being childless not-by-choice for example. I used to be so embarrassed. So ashamed. I would never talk about it. Never admit it.

But things change over time. I am no longer embarrassed. I am no longer ashamed. It's not my fault. I tried my best. This is my life, and I deserve to live it. Like, really live it. Not just go through the motions.

So, now when it comes up in conversation, I just own it. I am involuntarily childless. I wanted kids, and it didn't work out for me. I'm healed enough to where I can speak freely to help normalize it. That means that many of my new co-workers already know that I don't have kids and it's not by choice. I haven't gone on and on about it, but it has come up in conversation.

One of my co-workers is pregnant. She's due in less than a month. I've enjoyed getting to know her. She's really cool. And honestly? I've enjoyed hearing about her 2 year old and her pregnancy. It's not sad for me anymore because that's not where I am in life. At this stage, I don't want a 2 year old or to be pregnant. But I can be excited for my co-worker.

Last week she mentioned that some other co-workers wanted to throw her a baby shower. So I just told her straight up. I said something like, "Oh cool, that's awesome, but I won't be there. I love you and your baby, but I don't go to baby showers." And she was all, "Oh yeah, that's fine. I don't even know if it's going to happen." It just felt so normal. Neither one of us was sad or defensive or uncomfortable. It was all just a matter of fact.

Then, later in the week, one of my other co-workers (a guy, that's an important detail) said at the end of a meeting, "Oh yeah! It's Mother's Day this weekend!" I know he's married but doesn't have kids. So I was confused. I asked, "I don't mean to sound rude, but... Why do you care? Why do you care if it's Mother's Day?" And he said so he could remember to call his mom. Of course! "Oh, yes, that makes sense," I said. And he laughed and said, "Oh yeah, I'm definitely never going to be a mother." And I immediately laughed and said, "Yeah, me neither!" He quickly looked down and looked like he felt kind of awkward. He learned I couldn't have kids a couple of months ago. But the awkwardness didn't linger (I don't think). Well, anyway, any feelings he had about the situation are his. I thought it was pretty funny.

And then at the end of the week, I ran into another co-worker in the break room. It was just us two. She had previously asked about my research and, when I told her it was about involuntary childlessness, she quickly replied, "I could be in your study!" That's all that she shared, but I think it's safe to assume that she has tried or is trying to get pregnant. I know that she doesn't have kids. So, anyway, when I saw her in the break room and it was just us two I told her that I told the other co-worker that if there was a baby shower at work I wouldn't be attending. And this co-worker said that she had forgotten about that and that she needed to plan something before our co-worker was out for maternity leave. So I leaned in and said, "Or not. You don't have to do that if you don't want to. And if someone else plans something, you don't have to go. I'm not. Of course, you can go if you want to. But I'm here to remind you that you never have to go." She smiled and said thanks.

And that was my week at work. Taking up space and not being silent. I'm not a crusader for childlessness, but I'm not invisible either. I am worthy. My experiences are worthy. My life is worthy. It just looks different from a lot of other people's.

Happy Other's Day! I see you. I like you. I love you. You're wonderful.

You are worthy. 

 

Finally Doing Less

Today I went to work, did my job, and came home. That's it. No errands, no chores. My boyfriend made dinner. I sat on the couch with a kitty on my lap. It was great. I loved it.

I'm taking the time to recognize that I just had a day that I've wanted to have for a very long time.

I'm not recovering from burnout. I did that for a year. I'm not following through with a bunch of previous commitments I made. I got through all those. I'm not looking for a job. Luckily, I found one. I'm not moving. I did that already. I'm not creating a new department. I did that too. 

Now I get to go to work and come home and live my simple life. I'm giddy.

I'm finally doing less. Not running myself ragged. 

I've been feeling good about myself lately. I've always struggled with the never-ending household stuff. But I started doing my laundry on Sundays a couple of years ago, and now I find myself doing laundry, cleaning the kitchen, going to the grocery store, and cooking a meal (with planned leftovers) on Sundays. It started with one habit and grew. 

I'm doing less, but in other ways, I'm doing more. With ease.

More Thoughts On Change

I've heard something interesting from women since I started seeing clients over the last couple of months. When their kids aren't with them (like, they're at their dad's because the parents are no longer together), the women find it harder to take care of themselves and their home. I've heard more than one woman tell me, "It's easier to do what I need to do when I have to do it for my kids." These women love their children. Even when their health is not good, they power up for their children. But when it's just them? They don't/won't/can't.

I can relate.

It's honestly validating, although I don't say anything to my clients in the moment. That wouldn't be appropriate. But I always thought it would be easier to do the basics, like prepare dinner every night, if I had kids that I needed to feed. If I had a routine that was dictated by my kids' schedules. To hear other women say that raising children actually makes some things easier is a message I don't hear a lot. I appreciate their honesty with me.

I assumed I was going to be a mother for 35 years. Now I've known I'm not going to be a mother for 11 years. Lately, I've been noticing my growth and progress and, quite honestly, I've been feeling so good about myself. I never stayed where it felt wrong for me. I went back to school for a better career. I got divorced. I moved around. I quit bad jobs. I bought a house. I moved again. Now I'm selling that house. I'm maintaining my laundry and dishes. I've kept up with my annual check-ups. I go to work and I pay my bills. I eat breakfast and lunch and meal plan for dinner twice a week. I have a good relationship with myself and my boyfriend. I text lots of girlfriends throughout the week. I'm doing it. I'm living life.

It's a total change from 12 years ago when I wasn't showering regularly, eating well, working, socializing, or doing anything fun.

I've been thinking a lot about motivation lately. Why do we sometimes do what we don't want to do in order to get the things we want? Why do we sometimes just think about what we want but never do anything differently? What helps us change? What impedes our change? What, why, how?

And... I don't know. 

But I'll probably be thinking about it for the rest of my life. I'm thinking it's a combination of individual factors and societal systems. Biology, psychology and sociology are so interesting. The interplay among the three is fascinating.

But, yeah, if you have any thoughts on the topic of change and/or motivation and/or anything else related, I'm all ears. I'm always collecting information to share with others. We all deserve to enjoy our lives.

Change is Hard but Worth It

I went for a walk. It was wonderful, but even doing something wonderful that's new requires doing something different. I haven't gone for a second walk yet. It's been raining and then I got sick. But, I'm going to! It felt so good to be outside, move my legs, and look at the grass and trees.

New habits are hard to create.

New lives are heard to create.

But like I always say, what's the alternative? 

Stay where I was? Live in the beautiful 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom, 2-story house with my husband who drank at the sports bar 3 - 5 times a week? Um, no. Absolutely not. Living in my children's house without my children was not an option for me. Not if I wanted to stay alive. I am that serious. Staying married when I could be lonely by myself was also not what I wanted for myself. I deserved more than that.

I gave myself a better life, and I did it by myself. I haven't received any emotional support from my family of origin for my lack of children, my divorce, or the loss of life as I thought it was going to be. I forged the way forward on my own at first, and then I found bloggers in front of me, beside me, and behind me along the way. 

Change isn't easy. That's why most people don't do it. Changing your life takes a lot of work.

That first step can feel impossible.

For me, it was registering to take Anatomy & Physiology I and II at the local community college. The task felt so ovewhelming. There was doing it, like figuring out how to sign up for the class, which overwhelmed me. Then there was following through with it, like actually going to class and doing assignments, which also overwhelmed me.

So I didn't do it. I didn't register for the classes. I didn't go and I didn't have to do the homework.

Then another year passed. And I was in the exact same position. Living in my children's house without my children. Bored. Lonely. Depressed. Still dreading Anatomy & Physiology I & II.

So I did it anyway.

I went online. Created an account. Figured out how to register. Showed up for class. Did my homework. And cried every night.

I didn't want to, but I did it anyway.

Both classes eventually ended. I passed. I applied for grad school, got in, and the rest is history. While I didn't love grad school, I now have a job that I don't hate. Not only do I not hate it, I actually love it. I mean, it's still a job. I work too much and I'd rather not, but, hey, at least I like it!

Change can't wait until we are ready. Change can't wait until we are comfortable. The comfort we're seeking is on the other side of change. Just like with grief, we have to do the work. Well, we GET to do the work. We don't HAVE to do anything. We are totally allowed to stay where we are.

But if you want something different?

You have to cross the street.

You have to take that first step that gets you to the park. And then you have to walk at the park. And then you have to keep going back. And then later, much later (muuuch later than you want, but also time flies so it'll be here sooner than you know it), you'll feel better.

Time passes either way. You can take the class. You can walk at the park.
Or you can stay where you are.

You get to create your life, one decision and one small action (or inaction) at a time.

Change takes time. The Colorado River didn't carve the Grand Canyon in a day.

Picture found here

Unexpected Disclosure

I used to feel very weird disclosing my infertility at work. Well, anywhere really. But especially at work. It felt very weird to disclose something so personal in an environment where I prefer to keep the topics to recipes and the weather. Over time though, like with most everything else...
I just don't care anymore. 

😂😂😂

But here's an interesting story. 

They did a lot of work on my office at my new job. They had to change out some furniture, and they ended up repainting all four walls. Then I got to choose from an approved list and they hung artwork in the hallway. So, I got to know a couple of the facilities guys while they were working.

One day it was just one of them there. He would say "we" when telling a story. Like, "We made homemade chili for dinner last night." Or, "We live outside of town on a lot of acreage." Without thinking (really, without thinking, I can't believe I had a lapse in judgment and I actually said this) I asked, "Who's 'we?' You got a wife and kids?" 

And I swear there was a barely-there pause, a fraction of a hesitation...

He replied, "Oh, I'm married. But no kids. That didn't work out for us."

I whipped my head around so fast and rambled, "Really?? Me too. I mean, I'm divorced. Not married. But kids didn't work out for me either. For us. Oh my gosh, I can't believe I just asked you that. I am so sorry. I never ask people that. I'm so sorry I just asked you that. I can't have kids either. How's your wife? Is she doing okay?"

I can make an awkward situation feel even more awkward. It's a skill I have. I'm a natural.

He just looked at me for a second. I'm thinking maybe he's never talked about this with another person other than his wife before. Maybe one or two other people. A brother or a best friend. But I get the feeling that this isn't something this guy talks about freely. He just looked at me. 

"I always wanted to be a dad."

"Yeah... I always wanted to be a mom."

And neither one of us tried to make it better for the other. Neither one of us tried to fix it with adoption or IVF. Neither one of us offered the common response of "At least you get to travel/sleep in/spend all of your money on yourself!" We just stood in silence in the hallway at work for several seconds.

I thanked him for sharing that with me. I told him that he knows my email address, since we work together, and that I'm available if his wife ever needed support. I said I did not expect to ever hear from her but it's totally fine if I do. 

Then we moved on to our usual conversation, which is where we've had good tacos around town.

But that was a pretty meaningful connection. About infertility. At work.

My 11th Survivor Anniversary

I can barely believe it's been over 11 years since my last fertility treatment didn't result in pregnancy. In one way, it almost feels like it never happened. I'm no longer trying to get pregnant or adopt anymore. I don't live in that house anymore. I'm not married to my husband anymore. It's not even "Who am I?" anymore either. 

Everything has changed. Where I live, who I'm with, what I do, and, oh, WHO I AM.

Yet, my 11th Survivor Anniversary came and went without much fanfare this year. 

Oh wait, that's not entirely true. I had finished the draft of my research article the weekend or two before, so I decided to submit my research ON my Survivor Anniversary. It felt great. It was not anticlimactic at all. It was a huge relief to submit it. I felt so damn proud.

And then the next day I received the rejection. (Really?? The journal editor didn't even sit on it for 24 hours?) And, guess what, I barely even cared. Of course I was disappointed. But the rejection email I received was so tone deaf, so freakin' RUDE that it actually made it easier to process the rejection. I read the email, rolled my eyes, and moved on.

I am not the same.

Infertility, failed treatments, and not getting to be the mom I always wanted to be changed me.

That's just the first academic journal I submitted my research to. Oh, it's on now. I will continue to submit my research until it's published. That first journal I tried? Their loss. Big time. 

On my 11th Survivor Anniversary all I could do was laugh at my nerdy self for living through my worst nightmare and then conducting RESEARCH about it. Hahaha. Nerd!

Have you seen Pretty Woman? This shopping scene is what I immediately thought of
when I read that rejection email. I found this pic on an old tumblr post.

Too Much Upheaval

I've been struggling for the last couple of weeks. Everything feels harder and my mood has dipped. I'm SO GLAD I moved, but I really underestimated how difficult it was going to be. That's probably a good thing. I already knew it was going to be hard. I didn't need to know how hard it was going to be before it even started. 

I will most likely move again. Our lease is up in 7 months. I like our rental property, but I can't afford to buy it and complete the upgrades it needs. Plus, it's not for sale. 

But hopefully, I won't move states again. In all honesty, I'm running out of places to move to. However, I am willing to move out of the country if any of my international readers need a caregiver. Just throwing that idea out into the universe! ;)

Infertility devastated me. I had planned to be a mom my whole life. I organized my whole life around it. Rebuilding my existence as a divorced, childless woman has been extremely hard. It felt almost impossible. Seven and eleven years later (that's the divorce and ending fertility treatments, respectively), I'm feel like I'm still picking up the pieces. I'm just so tired. 

I can't seem to figure out how to do all of the things I need and want to do: work full-time, cook good food, clean the house, sleep enough, exercise, explore my new area, make new friends, and sew. Right now I am working full-time and sleeping enough so that's good. But I want to fit in the other stuff too.

I am overweight. I do not feel comfortable in my body. Even if I do not lose any weight (that number is just the measure of our gravitational pull toward Earth anyway), I want to feel better and have more endurance. I'm convinced exercise is the missing ingredient in my life, but I haven't started doing it before work (too early!), after work (too tired!), or on the weekends (I just want a break!). 

I'm in a funk. And it makes total sense. I'm perimenopausal. I just moved halfway across the country. I started a new job where I am creating a new department and program for a large organization. I am still profoundly sad by the words and actions of my family of origin throughout my life. Current events are gravely misaligned with my values. And everything is getting so damn expensive. It's hard!

It has been so, so hard to rebuild my life after going full force in one direction for thirty-five years. Infertility was traumatic. Divorce was sad too. Not to mention, getting divorced completely changed my financial situation and I will most likely never be financially comfortable like that again. However, my peace of mind and sense of self are priceless. I'll admit I often feel frustrated financially, but I have no regrets about choosing my spirit and happiness over financial comfort.

This is another rambling post. But I cried three times last week. All short. All healthy releases. I just needed to admit to myself that the move has been hard. The new awesome job has been hard. My family is hard. The sociopolitical climate is hard. Hell, the actual climate is hard.

I am fighting depression. I am tired, but I am fighting anyway. I use the word "fight" generously. I am not "fighting hard." I am doing as little as possible, ha. I'm taking things down a notch. Again. Instead of cooking this week, I might just get healthy take-out salads for dinner. Instead of loading up my errands and chores in an effort to get stuff done, this week I'm going to take it easy. Do less. Just go to work and come home. And tell myself "fuck it" when I start thinking I should do this or I should do that. There's a time and a place for that mentality, but that is not what I need. Not this week. Not today, Satan.

I'm gonna make myself go for a walk though. For 5 - 10 minutes. Just a little something. Movement and fresh air. I don't know when... Before work? After work? On the weekend? But I'll report back that I did it. I'm going to hold myself accountable. I'm in that stage between having a low mood and being depressed, and if I don't do something differently, it will be harder to get out of it. I know this. I've been here before. 

I searched online for "fabric mess" and found this picture here. I thought a picture like that could be a relatable picture of upheaval for me. It also reminds me that great things come from creative messes. We don't create awesome new things from staying the same. 

Disenfranchised Grief

Hello friends. How are you doing? I am up and down. I know that's life. But it feels more intense this year compared to others. It's different. It's scary. It's sad. My heart aches for myself, and my heart aches for everyone. It doesn't have to be like this, but here we are.

I can't talk about it all of the time, but I have to acknowledge it occasionally. Times are weird. Things are not normal. Not the norms that we grew up with.

I miss a lot of things. I miss landlines and human decency. I miss the more distinct division between the days as opposed to this ongoing 24/7 stream of news and emails and expectations from others. I miss affordable gas, groceries, and housing. I miss the illusion of stability that I used to have. 

None of that is uplifting.

But, like I said, it's important for me to acknowledge it. 

I need to connect with others. I need to connect with others who see what is actually going on (as much as we can understand it). I don't want to talk about it all of the time. But I feel uncomfortable when I think about spending time with people who think everything is fine and dandy. I don't want to hang out with people who don't get it.

I know both kinds of people: those that are concerned and those that are not. I know a lot of both kinds of people. Quite honestly, it's a mind fuck. It's so weird to know so many kind, loving, and hardworking people that are not concerned. It's WEIRD.

So I'm sad, mad, and confused. (I am also happy, grateful, and excited about a couple of things, but that's not what this post is about.)

And that brings me to disenfranchised grief.

• From Merriam-Webster's dictionary:
• disenfranchised--deprived of some right, privilege, or immunity
• grief--deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement
  
  
• From Wikipedia:
• disenfranchised grief--describes forms of grief that are not acknowledged on a personal or societal level; term coined by Dr. Kenneth J. Doka in 1989
• a mourner's loss may be viewed as insignificant which can be lead to feelings of isolation and doubt over the impact of the loss experienced
• there are few support systems, rituals, traditions, or institutions available to those experiencing grief and loss

Sound familiar?

I've been here before.

 
Infertility and being childless-not-by-choice gave me so many tools I never asked for. 

Also, I give myself a shit ton of credit. I didn't have to pick up the pieces of my soul and figure out what to do. I didn't have to pick up those tools that infertility left lying there in the wake of its destruction. I didn't have to pick them up, I didn't have to sharpen those tools, I didn't have to hone my skills. But I did. So many of us have. You can too. 

It sucks. It sucks when life sucks. And I don't mean the I'm-bored-and-life-is-hard-and-this-sucks kind of sucks. I mean the I'm-alive-but-don't-want-to-be-but-I'm-hanging-on-but-don't-know-why kind of sucks. It sucks BAD. So bad that there really aren't words for it. 

It makes it even harder when others don't realize we're grieving. Or worse, they judge our grieving.

When you're living in one world and others are living in a completely different one, it's disorienting. It makes you question yourself even though you only have your perspective and experiences to go off of. Whether the different worlds are on a micro-level or a macro-level, I'm learning, it doesn't make a difference. Both experiences are equally destabilizing.

So.

Just throwing all that out there. In a moment of acknowledgment.

My experiences with disenfranchised grief during my darkest years are informing how I'm coping with disenfranchised grief during our current international economic and sociocultural climate.

It sucks to have those experiences, but I'm glad I developed some skills from them.

Holy crap this is a great article! It's quick, easy to read, and has great content about how to build and use your own mental health toolkit. It's where the picture above came from.

Entering a New Season

I love it when my life is in sync with the seasons.  Winter is usually my favorite, but I am uncharacteristically looking forward to spring this year. Like winter changing to spring, I'm in a phase of life where a lot of major projects are ending. I'm curious what will fill the empty spaces.

Eventually.

I'm in no rush.

The move is winding down. It has been quite a process. But we've got our address changed on everything, and we only have one more trip back to the old place for a couple things. My boyfriend was there a couple of weeks ago to clean out the house. It will be on the market soon, and I am really excited to sell it. Most everything here is still in boxes, but we are functional and almost halfway through our lease already.

My new job is transitioning from one phase to another. The first phase has been a lot of work, and so will the second phase. But I'm looking forward to it. I think I'm going to prefer the second phase of things. Here's hoping! Lol.

Remember my research? I've been hard at work on that in the background of everything else. I've definitely hit my own saturation point, but that's understandable. I've been working on it for over three years. However, I am at the very end. I have one last presentation to give at another national conference, and I (finally!) finished an article draft to submit for publication. Hopefully, my draft will be returned to me for revisions and then accepted and published. Then it will be out there and on the books for others to reference and build on.

Lots of endings. All positive. All welcome.

I'm in no rush to fill the space. 

I promise.

I want to live my simple life. Eat, sleep, work, and sew. Continue improving my cooking, cleaning, and exercising efforts. Get outside a little since the weather is nicer. See some friends eventually.

This post doesn't even have anything to do with infertility. Not really. I mean, my research is about infertility, but nothing in this post is directly about infertility. 

It's like the rest of my life. Infertility is a part of it. My life is how it is because of infertility and what I did with that, but my life isn't totally and completely about infertility anymore. Infertility is no longer central. Now it's more foundational yet peripheral.

Maybe that's another thing that's ending. My 11th Survivor Anniversary is coming up later this month (when I quit infertility treatments) and the pain is no longer acute. It's no longer chronic. It's intermittent. There's a whole lot more space for other things now.

Lots of things ending. New things will begin.

Spring is in the air.

Credit: Getty Images

How To Recover from Burnout

2024 sucked. And it's not like the decade leading up to it was a party. Then 2024 happened, and it tipped the scales for me. I was toast. I was burned out.

So I blogged about it. And tonight I was reading some old posts. Well, first, I was thinking about how it's only been six months since I realized I had to move, and now here I am in a new state with a new job. I marveled at how it was all even possible when I decided to read my old posts on recovering from burnout.

There were 5 posts over the course of 15 months.

Extreme Burnout

From Burnout to Boundaries

From Rest to Routines 

Recover, Then Restore

Recovered From Burnout in 2025

After years of reading self-help books, it's like I created a step-by-step plan for myself.
(In retrospect. At the time I didn't know what I was doing.)

I write this post as I lie on my couch. I am very tired from working all week, and I am still tired from moving. It's all good though. I will take this exhaustion. I like my job and I'm glad we moved. 

But as tired as I am, I am definitely not burned out. I'm tired from working and moving. It's not from being undervalued and overworked. It's not the burnout kind of fatigue that takes a long time to recover from. It's the daily tired where I'll feel better in the morning after a night's sleep.

Now that I think of it, there are so many ways to be tired. Burnout. Physical exhaustion. Cognitive fatigue. Existential restlessness. They all require different antidotes.

For burnout, the posts linked above describe my process for recovery.

It takes time.

I found this stuffed animal (I'm toast!) in an online store that has lots of funny pillows.

Finding a New Doctor

Another hard part of moving is finding new doctors. It feels hard even though I have health insurance through my new job. (If you recall, that was a big reason why I had to move so quickly. I was losing my affordable coverage in 2026.) 

In a way, it's easy enough. I look at my health insurance card, go to the website, and find doctors that are in network and accepting new patients. 

In another way, it's daunting and overwhelming. Personally, I am tired of websites, logins, new accounts, and patient portals. I am tired and don't know how to find a doctor and/or practice that I'm going to like and where I will feel comfortable. I don't know anyone. I'm new here.

I knew I was dreading it because "find new doctors" stayed on my To Do list for three months. 

But I'm chipping away at this whole change-my-job/address/life thing AGAIN and I will get it all done AGAIN and actually, except for unpacking (which may or may not happen in this rental house), I am quite close to the end.

Including finding new doctors. I went to a new gynecologist on Friday. I'm establishing care with a primary care physician next month, and I'm finally getting my eyes checked next month too. Now I only need to find a dentist and a dermatologist. Soon I will have assembled a new team for my healthcare. I'm thinking about looking for a counselor and/or a massage therapist and/or an acupuncturist too. We'll see. Every service, although worth it, costs time and money.

So. I went to a new gynecologist on Friday. To say I was nervous is an understatement. I surprised myself by bursting into tears on my way to the appointment. Luckily, I wasn't driving so it was safe to cry. I admitted out loud that I was scared but I was going anyway.

Then I had the best experience. Really. I really did.

The front desk women were nice. The waiting area was well lit and clean. The medical assistant who took me to my exam room was calming and friendly. The new doctor was wonderful. And the woman at the check-out desk was hilarious. I appreciated the whole experience.

Did I mention they use nitrous?

FINALLY. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. I've been saying this for years. Every gynecologist should have nitrous. I get nitrous to ease my nerves when I have my dental cleanings. Why wouldn't I get nitrous to ease my nerves during my annual well woman exam?? It's a no brainer. Except it's not standard practice. But maybe things are changing. Because let me tell you, that nitrous changed the entire experience from nerve wracking and painful to NOT nerve wracking and painful. Huh. How humane.

So that was good. But damn, I was tired after that experience. Completely wiped out for the day.

I needed to tell her about my oophorectomy 20 years ago; my experiences with trying to conceive, infertility, and failed fertility treatments; my divorce; my abnormal lab results in the past and all of the procedures I've had to explore them with dates; my recent move; and my new body and hormonal changes. Fun! 

Oh and THEN I had the physical exam. Sometimes the fun just doesn't seem to end.

So yeah, I don't usually tell people all of the worst things of my life right when I meet them, but when I do, I make sure I'm thorough. It was a lot at once, but it was all my relevant history.

She was nice. She listened. She answered my questions. I felt lucky for finding a great new doctor and practice. Having that first appointment over with is a huge weight off of my shoulders.

One of the reasons I picked that practice was because they had the word "infertility" on their website when no one else did. But let's be real, the main reason I picked them is because they offer nitrous for procedures. But it turned out, it's also a great practice full of friendly people. Amen to that. I wish for good experiences and care for all of us.

Another good sign!
My new doctor had this classic poster hanging on the ceiling above the exam chair.
Hilarious.

Save Yourself

My last post was about other people's writing saving me. Then I read Loribeth's post, What's Saving My Life Right Now. I forgot that she did this post every year in February. I like it.

It's a tough time. I'm not going to go into detail or commentary about any of it, nationally or internationally. But even on a smaller individual level, everyone I'm close to currently has major stressors in their lives. Maybe there will always be stress... But then, that's what makes it even more important to consider what helps us get through. I often think about what helps me.

I also love lists. So I wanted to think about, in addition to other people's writing, what's saving my life right now. Off the top of my head...

• Myself. I've learned a lot of things over the last decade: how to redirect my thoughts, how to have boundaries and why, how to quilt. I enjoy my own company and that's pretty cool.
  
  
• My boyfriend. He listens a lot. And he loves me. And we disagree and miscommunicate. And we laugh a lot. I'm actually at a place mentally where I would be fine by myself. I don't feel scared or insecure or lonely anymore. I'd be fine. But I'm glad I have my boyfriend. He adds a lot to my life.
  
  
• My cat(s). How did I live without a pet for so long? Well, it's very easy to not have a pet. It's very easy and affordable. Haha. But we were petsitting my boyfriend's son's cat and I fell in love and I needed a second cat for whenever we didn't have the first cat anymore and a kitten came into our lives and the first cat never left and...
  Now we have two cats. I love them. They are cute and funny and have their own personalities. One of the cats is definitely mine. He falls asleep with me at night and wakes me up in the morning. And oh my god I am writing a full paragraph about how much I love my cat, hahaha. But I do.
  
  Let's see... What else is saving my life right now...
  
  
• My job and my bills. Seriously. It's so easy to complain about work because we are there alllll the time, and it's easy to complain about bills because they're sooo expensive. But also? I like having a job. It means I'm not looking for a job, which is extremely stressful. I also like paying my bills because I'm glad for the services. It would suck without electricity, indoor plumbing, and trash pickup. My job and my bills are providing for my life, so they're saving me.
  
  
• My slow cooker! I've always struggled with what to eat every day, having stuff on hand, chopping stuff, cooking, and cleaning up after. I like the results of the effort. I like to eat tasty food. But, come on, figuring out what to eat multiple times a day every day? It's hard for some people. Like me. But! I am really excited because I've used my slow cooker once a week for the last 4 weeks. It's awesome coming home from work and smelling a homecooked meal that's already ready.
  
  
• Having something to look forward to. That's definitely saving my life. With the move behind me and the new job started, I live here now. It still doesn't feel like it, but I do. I live here and this is my life now. Lol. It's been awhile since I've lived in a city so I looked around for things to do. I found a couple of sewing workshops that I registered for and a couple of shows that I bought tickets for. And just like that, I have plans for 2026! Not too much. I don't want to be busy. But I've got several things to look forward to. And that saves me.
  
  

What's saving your life right now?

Here's a photo dump of other things that are bringing me joy, a.k.a. saving my life, right now.

I love stuffed animals. I saw this last weekend in a toy store. It's a jar of strawberry jam. So cute!

After months of having it packed, I unpacked my sewing machine and sewed an easy pot holder.
It's quilted with insulated batting using variegated thread.
Variegated thread (where it changes colors from one to another) always makes me happy.

I unpacked some embroidery floss I bought last year. I took a workshop about decorative stitches last month, and I'm going to try a little embroidery.

I sewed a cute little starfish with simple felt, stuffing, needle, and thread--
the kind of affordable supplies you buy from a craft store.
In retrospect, it was a nice activity because I held the soft, colorful felt and stared at it while I sewed. It was a nice break from looking at a screen and I enjoyed the colors and the feel of the felt. Hand sewing this starfish was like a little meditation practice.

Hot chocolate. On a cold day. The sprinkles were a happy surprise!  

Other People's Writing Saves Me

I just read something that I needed to read. The last time something resonated with me this hard was over a decade ago when I found Infertility Honesty's blog where she gave me a whole new language with which to understand my experience with life altering trauma.

Back then:
Oh!!! This is grief? I am grieving? Okay, that kinda makes sense... I had no idea this was grief.

Just now:
Oh!!! This is an awakening? This is a thing, this "Great Unfuckening?" This makes a lot of sense.

Let me back up. I've been going through something for the last two years. Two years ago it was 2024 and it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year. I broke up with my boyfriend, quit my job, and was devastated by my family. I stopped everything and focused on myself. I changed massively. And quickly. 

My boyfriend and I were only broken up for 3 months, and I actually only lived alone for about 2 weeks. But that short amount of time was transformative. When I sat in my silent living room all alone for those two weeks I thought about everything: my feelings as a little girl, my family dynamics, my boyfriends while growing up, my marriage, my divorce, and my current breakup. I realized so much in an unbelievably short amount of time.

In the two years since, I've remained steadfast in my efforts to put myself first. In fact, I try to put myself first, second, and third. Don't get me wrong. I love everyone. I love my boyfriend, I love my family, and I love total strangers that I don't know. I also love myself. Finally. I like myself too. It's a relief.

But despite my love for everyone, I make myself #1. I have to put myself first. No one else is going to. And it has taken years to develop the habit of asking myself what do I want and what do I need before considering what others want and need.

Anyway, I'm rambling a bit. But it's been tough. Things are really difficult with my family and after reading this post, Aging Out of Fucks: The Neuroscience of Why You Suddenly Can't Pretend Anymore by Ellen Scherr, I feel seen. I feel known. And I understand myself better.

I've got to share some quotes with you:

• "As estrogen levels shift in perimenopause and beyond, this intense drive to please and nurture others begins to diminish. What replaces it isn't bitterness. It's clarity."
  
  I feel this. From the drop in my strong nurturing drive to the clarity that is newly emerging, I feel this so much.
  
  
• "Decades of chronic low-level stress from constant social monitoring takes a biological toll... What looks like 'not having a filter' might actually be a stress response system that's finally saying 'enough'."
  
  Yes, I am actually worn out. Completely done. Put a fork in me. I can't overfunction for others anymore. Not my mom. Not a partner. Not any employer. I know more now. I see what I was doing. And now I am done.

The author talks about how we literally don't have it in us anymore to people please. She talks about the shifts that happen when we stop performing and stop providing our free emotional labor: other people get uncomfortable. She reminds us that other people's discomfort is not our problem to fix.

• "All the energy you spent managing everyone else's experience? That's now available for literally anything else. The return on investment is staggering."
  
  
• "You're not becoming difficult; you're becoming free."

I am sharing this article in case it's what you need to read too.

I found this embroidery kit if you're looking for a new hobby. I went to a workshop about decorative stitching a couple of weeks ago, and it made me think I'd like embroidery.

So Many Kids But Not Me

My friends have a lot of kids. 

I got three holiday cards last month and they're all on my fridge because they are all from people that I really care about. And they're from different parts of my life, from age 17 to age 37. One of the cards is from one of my best friends from high school. She has two kids. Her daughter was the last baby I held. That baby is 11 now. Another card is from my best friend from college. She has three kids. The youngest just started kindergarten this year. And the third card is from my friend from graduate school ten years ago, the young guy that had the baby with his wife. They've had two more since then. So that's three friends with a total of eight kids.

Then I think about my other best friends from high school. One of them has two kids. Her oldest just turned 18 and will be graduating high school this year. The other friend has three kids, and they're all under ten years old. 

My other best friend from college doesn't have any kids. And our mutual friend from college doesn't have any kids either. I guess most of our acquaintances do though.

Then another close friend from grad school just had her third kid last week. 

So... There are the 8 kids on my fridge, plus 5 more kids from high school friends, and another 3 kids from a grad school friend. Holy cow, that's 16 kids. And that's only among six friends. I have more friends. That's a lot! I could open a virtual private school just for my friends' kids lol.

It just strikes me as weird. When it's totally normal. But I think it's weird that my friends have all these kids. But I probably wouldn't think it was weird if I would've had kids. 

And really, I'm the "weird" one. Not them. I'm the one that's not like most everyone else. 

I don't know why I've been thinking about this so much lately, but I have. It's like I just realized that among my friends there are, like, a billion kids. And that's what they're all doing. Raising their kids. Feeding their kids. Taking their kids to school and practice and their friends' houses and whatever.

I think I'm discombobulated from moving, and I've been thinking about how different my life is at 46 from what I imagined it was going to be. 

I like my life. I like it a lot actually. It's just weird to live a life that's completely different from what I pictured and from what everyone else is doing.

I just ordered this book. Sounds interesting!

Weird Worrying

My cycle was late this month. I was expecting it Saturday or Sunday. Monday at the latest. I started on Wednesday. I mean, I take the pill so it's weird for it to be late.

Um, a quick note on that. I have mixed feelings about taking the pill. I mean, why? I'm infertile. But I got back on it when I was grieving deeply. I couldn't handle getting my period every month so I went back on the pill so I'd at least know when it was coming. So I could be somewhat mentally prepared. 

I don't need it for that anymore. Getting my period doesn't make me sad anymore. Plus, I'm older and my body is changing naturally and I really don't think I need it. Anyway, I'll figure it out. I need to find a new doctor here and establish care anyway.

But starting my cycle doesn't make me sad anymore. In fact, I learned this week that NOT starting my cycle makes me sad.

It was WEIRD. I was so worried. And annoyed. Very, very annoyed. I spent years wanting to get pregnant and now I'm worried/mad/sad that I might be? It was weird.

But, like I said, I'm older and my body is changing and I'll find a new doctor and talk about things.

But I'm feeling MUCH better today and yesterday. 

Relieved.

When It's Hard To Connect

My life isn't organized around my children. That must be obvious since I don't have children. But it's such a sneaky little (big) thing that I forget myself and it's my life. But, that's probably because I'm living my life, which is not organized around my children as we just established, so when I remember that the rest of the world's is AND they expect mine to be organized in the same way... Well, it can be jarring. It makes me feel like a puzzle piece that never quite fits in.

Traveling reminded me. I took a really cool trip with my mom and sisters last month. It was a lot of fun and we met some other nice people too. But wow, does everyone talk about their kids and grandkids nonstop. I mean, they really do. It's an objective fact. This isn't me being sensitive. 

My mom even started telling her birth story about having me one night when it was just me and my sisters. They were reminiscing about the night I was born. I interrupted to say, "I usually don't listen to any mother's birth story, but I'll listen to yours because it's about me."

One of my sisters always talks about her kid. Always has. It's a little weird and now it feels awkward for me because I don't talk to her adult kid but whatever. That's my sister and that's her kid that I've known for the kid's whole life. I listen. It's fine. 

Hearing about other people's kids constantly doesn't hurt me like it used to. It makes sense. These people have kids so it makes sense for them to talk about them. I just noticed on the trip how much this topic can dominate conversations. There were several group dinners where I just didn't say much at all. (But don't worry about me, the food was awesome, haha.)

And you know it's not just my family. It was the various people we met too. Everyone talked about their kids and their grandkids. A lot. Again, normal. I mean, not for me. But it's normal for them.

But it was so much that I even asked the sister I was rooming with, "Do you notice how much everyone talks about their kids?" And she said yes, she'd definitely noticed. She also said she didn't know if she would've noticed if I wasn't there. But with my presence, she realized how common the conversation topic was.

So I noticed the obvious while traveling--that my life isn't organized around children.

But I also notice it now that I've moved. 

Obviously, I don't have any friends here. I just moved and I don't know anyone. Luckily, every co-worker I've met has been nice and friendly. But, you know, those are my co-workers. I would hope they could be nice and friendly, at least on the surface.

So then I think about where and how to meet some new friends. I know these things take time. Good friendships can take years to form. That's fine. I'm in no hurry. I never want to leave my house anyway, haha. That's actually why I'm thinking about this now. I know I will want to have a friend or two in a couple of years, so I know I better start leaving my house every now and then for something social so I can meet some people. 

But my age group is still busy raising their kids.

This is nothing new to me, but I am confronting it all over again as I think about how to meet new people. It just comes back to how your life is organized. And people's priorities and activities can be very different. We are all busy, but we are busy doing different things on different schedules. 

 

Clip art found on Vecteezy

I'm going to try a sewing workshop. 

A lot of them are during the day while I'm at work, but there are still some offered in the evenings and on the weekends. I signed up for one in a couple of weeks. A day long workshop where we learn a new technique and create a completed project in the day. I know I won't want to go when the day comes, haha. (I'll feel tired and just want a break.) But then I am going to make myself go and I know I'll be glad I went. Whether I end up liking the project or not isn't the point, although
I think I'll like it. 

It's good to get out of the house, be around people, and try something new.

Relax

My wish for 2026 is stability and my goal is to relax.

Photo from Vecteezy