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

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

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.

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. 

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.

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.

2,000 Miles

I have moved! I moved almost 1,000 miles, and it has been a marathon. I didn't want to write about it until it was over (and I'm still surrounded by boxes--I haven't unpacked a single one yet), but the actual arduous physical move is done. 

It's been extremely difficult. All of it.

From the realization three months ago that I had to move to every single step along the way, I just kept pushing forward. I rewrote my resume. I applied for jobs. I went to interviews. I compared offers and costs of living in various places. I accepted a position. My boyfriend and I found a place to rent. We packed up all of our stuff. We rented a truck. We loaded the truck. We drove halfway across the country. We unloaded the truck. And I started a new job.

I'm sure you can guess what I'm going to write next: I am exhausted.

But it is done and I am proud. I saved myself once again. I saw what wasn't working. I saw the direction things were headed, and I made major changes.

Did I want to do all of that work? Not at all. Not any of it. But I did it anyway.

And now I am here. In a new place with a new job.

I love it. I love my rental and I love my new position.

If you've been with me since the beginning of this blog, you have traveled over 2,000 miles with me. From one big city to another. From several small towns to back to a city. You've been with me through six different addresses in three different states. Did I mention I am tired? It's definitely been a theme of this blog.

Fourteen years ago I thought I was settled. I was married and living in a beautiful house we bought for our children. When I couldn't have children, I thought we'd move to another city and settle there. A couple of more places later, I thought I'd settle there. 

Well, and now I am here. Maybe here is where I will settle. Who knows. But there are jobs. And there is some affordable housing. At the very least, we can afford our rental. 

I continue to deal with reality. I dealt with not being able to have kids. I dealt with grieving life as I knew it and life as I thought it would be. I dealt with divorce, moving, bad jobs, and a pandemic. And now I am dealing with our current cultural climate and its ramifications.

Moving was so, so, so extremely hard, but I did it.

It was worth it.

I took this picture (safely I promise!) of my boyfriend driving the moving truck while I followed in my car with two cats. It was a wild ride that took two days, but we made it safe and sound.

Our country is so beautiful.

Stress & Privilege

"What do you have to be stressed about?"

That question was posed to me this morning. It's not the first time my mother has said this to me, but it still sucks. I know it is a rude and judgmental thing to say to another person, but it still hurts. Even worse, she followed it up with, "I went through the same thing and I had a whole family to take care of." Well, shit.

It was a horrible conversation. I should have known better and not answered the phone. I had just returned home the previous day from a long (but good) work-related trip. I was exhausted. I didn't have the emotional reserves to buffer myself.

I was criticized and accused. There was no empathy. She was getting more and more upset as we talked. I told her I'd like to stay on the phone until she felt better. She sounded like she felt better by the time we hung up. I felt awful.

From the outside, it's easy to see how crazy it all is.
As the one experiencing it, it is very, very hard to process. 

She told me she felt like she had to walk on eggshells around me, and I told her I felt the same.

There is no answer. There is no solution. I am out of strategies. 

Thankfully, I have emotional support in other areas of my life. 

*****

So let's move on to my week-long trip. It was long. It was busy. It was expensive. It was great.

I felt a roller coaster of emotions throughout the week. At times I was excited. At other times, I felt overwhelmed. By the last day I was in extreme physical pain. I blame 1) the stress (even positive stress is still stress) and 2) what I ate. I am not 25 anymore! I ate out for every meal, and I tend to go for the fried and/or cheesy food. Apparently, I cannot do that anymore. Not for every meal. Lesson learned! For my last meal, I ordered a salad. Better late than never, right? ;)

Toward the end of my trip, as I was talking myself down from the stress, I realized that I had what so many other women wanted: a week to myself. I had no one else's needs to attend to, no one else's preferences to consider. Other than my scheduled meetings, I could do what I want. And that I did! As I already mentioned, I ate what I wanted when I wanted. I did some shopping. I went to bed early. I lived life on my terms. Which, I suppose, I usually do anyway... But this was in a different state in a new city and, even though it was a work-related trip, it was also a vacation. 

I've shared before that I don't like to travel. I love my comforts of home. But I can still recognize what a privilege it is to have the health, means, and opportunity to travel. 

It was a privilege to get to spend a week by myself.

A Simple Life

A lot of people have written about feeling the need to do The Next Big Thing after losing their dreams of motherhood to infertility. It's like we are supposed to have some awesome career, a big bank account, or some badass endeavor. One of my sisters told me during my very dark time that now I can "travel the world and go on adventures!" I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to raise children. There is no substitution for that. I wasn't a kid in college going to study abroad. Plus, as most of you know, I don't even like to travel.

Is there no recognition for finding the desire to want to stay alive? 
Is it not a monumental achievement to rediscover the will to live and feel at peace?

One thing that has always bothered me about my blog is the fact that I drastically changed my entire life by going back to school, moving out of state, and getting divorced. (Again, most of you know but only two of those things were planned.) It's like I jumped into The Next Big Thing and I hate for that to be the example I'm giving. I honestly believe just getting out of bed every day is a huge task. Especially during the first few years of grief. I don't want other people to feel pressured like they're supposed to do all this big stuff in life when they have absolutely no resources left.

But also--with all of that said, if you want to change your life, YOU CAN. 

One small thing at a time.

Every ounce of effort counts.

Getting out of bed counts.

Taking a shower counts.

Making yourself something to eat counts.

Once you've eaten, you've given yourself some energy to complete a task. 

    Do you need to log in and pay a bill? 

    How about surfing the internet to explore job or hobby ideas? 

    Or picking up a broom to sweep away the dust bunnies you've seen for days?

    Or going for a 10 minute walk outside? (I always forget about this and tend to stay sedentary.)

It all counts.

It's whatever you want. Live your life. 

I couldn't live my old life so I had to change it. I guess that was my Next Big Thing, but it was necessary. I was going to die if I stayed in my children's house spending my weekends driving across traffic to whichever friend's kid was having a birthday party that weekend, assuming I was even invited to the birthday party. 

But now? Ten years later? Ten years full of grieving, going back to school, moving out of state, getting divorced, starting a new career, and, oh yeah, enduring a pandemic... I'm good. I'm done. And quite honestly, I'm very, very tired.

I will now live my simple life. 

Ignore the haters. There are a lot of them and they are loud. They want to criticize our every decision, question our every belief, and dampen our moments of happiness. All while the world burns around us. As if we need any more negativity in our lives.

The game changed on us. We don't have to play by their rules.

Speaking of games and living my simple life, my boyfriend bought me a Nintendo Switch last year. I thought it was funny because I notoriously hate video games. But, he was convinced I would love it. And, as usual, he was right. Hahaha. And now... I'm obsessed. I love it. 

I love playing Stardew Valley. I love to plant and harvest my crops. I love to pet and feed my animals. I love to run around foraging and completing quests. I love this simple farming game. 

Not Traveling for the Holidays

I'm not traveling for the holidays this year.

In 2016 I missed celebrating the holidays with my family for the first time ever. After enduring several painful holidays during infertility (including one where I traveled with my IVF medications), I finally realized that traveling for the holidays was exactly what I DIDN'T need and stayed home. It sucked and I was sad, but I still knew I was picking the least painful of my options. 

I didn't travel in 2017 either. Because of infertility.

In 2018 I went to my parents' home for the holidays and had a wonderful time with everyone.

In 2019 I missed the holidays with my family again when I was busy rebuilding my life and working two professional jobs in a different state. I was working five days a week teaching middle school and working the weekends at the hospital. I didn't have time to travel. I didn't have time for anything except to get myself established in my new state.

In 2020 there was the pandemic so, once again, I didn't travel to see my family for the holidays. 

I traveled in 2021, but I was terrified. Despite being vaccinated and masked, it took a lot for me to board a plane and spend time with loved ones from multiple households (especially knowing that nobody else was masking anymore). I was the only person in a mask all weekend and it was tough. But it was still good to see everyone.

I traveled for the holidays in 2022 and 2023 and had a grand ol' time.

This year I'm not. I'm not traveling for the holidays again, but it has nothing to do with infertility or the pandemic. I am flat out tired. I took nine trips this year, and I don't even like to travel. I'm grateful for the opportunities. I got to visit my best friend from college and meet her kids. I got to present my research at five different conferences. I saw my parents several times throughout the year. It was all great. I'm just tired.

And so I am done. For 2024. Hahaha. But seriously... 

I'm done with meetings and commitments and commuting. I am definitely done traveling. I warned my family when I saw some of them a couple of weeks ago that I was not going to be traveling anymore this year. We already have time planned together in February so I reminded them of that. My parents and older sister seemed to understand, and I appreciated it. It always feels good to feel understood, even if that feeling is somewhat foreign.

What do YOU need? 

What do you WANT?

They are seemingly simple questions but can be deceptively difficult to answer.

Just put those questions in the back of your mind.
Let them simmer. Let the answers come to you. You don't have to work for them.

I give you permission to rest. You have done enough.

The pictures above are all accurate depictions of me. 😂
They were all found in the public domain by searching "relaxing at home clip art" for images, and they represent my plans for the rest of the year: eating, sleeping, and sewing. Also, I recently found a video game that I really like (first one since, like, 1992!) so I'll be playing that too. And slowly but surely, I'll organize my house. But that's all fun for me. Of course I'll have to go to work too. But that's my only responsibility. Oh and a dentist appointment for a cleaning.
Anyway, I digress...  Do what you want to do.

Extreme Burnout

For the duration of this blog (8 years next month!), I have written about how tired I am.

You know my story...

Infertility, failed treatments, and realizing I won't be raising kids in this lifetime wiped me out. For a couple of years I didn't do much. I volunteered Wednesday mornings and went out to dinner with my husband every Friday night. I wasn't working because I assumed that I would eventually get pregnant. I wasn't socializing because all of my friends were getting pregnant and having kids. I was too anxious and depressed to actually enjoy doing anything, so I wasn't doing anything for fun. At least I had my dog at the time.

Then I decided, since I couldn't have kids, I was going to have to completely change my life or resign myself to always feeling like walking death. From the house we bought to my chosen profession of teaching, every major decision I had made in life was structured around having children. But I didn't have children, so the life I had created did not make sense. In fact, it hurt me deeply in every waking moment. Grief is exhausting, especially disenfranchised grief because it's so isolating.

I decided to sell the house I bought for my children, go back to school to change careers, and move out of state. I did all of that and then got divorced. Everything was exhausting. I also kept moving in search of a place where I wanted to live. Then the pandemic hit. 

Throw in more school (a privilege but still stressful) and several more job changes due to hazardous conditions at one place, an untrustworthy co-worker at another place, and being grossly underpaid at the last place...

I have been very tired for a very, very long time.

And I think I have reached my limit.

I tried giving myself a three-month sabbatical several years ago. It helped at the time but not overall. So now I am just following through with what I've already said I'd do and not committing to anything new.

I went out of town the last two weekends. One was a quick but stressful overnight family trip. The other was a days-long professional conference. Then this week, despite getting enough sleep every night, I have felt sick. Waves of nausea come and go throughout the day. I am worn out.

Infertility took so much from me. It is more than losing my kids and not getting to be a mom. It's also all the time lost to fear, anxiety, stress, depression, and exhaustion. It's the arduous recovery from the whole experience. It's the picking up the pieces of what's left and figuring out what to do with myself instead... and then actually doing it. I HAD to get up every day and do the things that I needed to do to get to where I am now. Nobody else could do it for me. But damn it was hard and I am still so, so tired.

I am trying to renew my health. I have exercised once a week for the last three weeks. That's not a lot, but it's a start. I am about to begin a new sew-along for a new quilt, and that community is fun. The season is changing and I love the fall and winter. I will feel better in time, but it is going to take an extended period of decreased demands on myself.

I am grateful I am in a good place. I like myself and I like where I am. But damn, I can just barely deal with life anymore. I am doing the bare minimum and giving myself a lot of grace. 

It's been a long 12 years.

Take good care of yourself.

I like to color. It's calming, and it requires no thought or precision. 

You don't even have to stay in the lines if you don't want to.

Finally Resting

I am getting so excited. I get to share my research about involuntary childlessness later this month. I'm nervous too, but mostly excited. If just one person stops by my poster to ask about my research, I will be so happy. My presentation handout has been submitted, and I have my poster printed and ready to go. One of my professors recommended getting a fabric poster, and I'm so glad she did. It will be easier to carry on the plane. I'll share next month how it goes!

That's pretty much all that is on my mind. 

Other than that, I'll be honest, I am enjoying living alone so far. It gives me the space for the rest that I desperately need. I'm going to work, paying the bills, doing the dishes and laundry, cooking a little bit, eating delicious leftovers, and doing something social every week. I will figure out how to add housecleaning and exercising to my routine as well.

Other than that, I am resting. 

Radically resting. 

Profoundly resting. 

When my last round of IVF did not result in pregnancy, I felt an extreme urgency to figure something else out for my life. I had planned on being a mother for 35 years, but then I had to completely switch gears, think of something else, and make it happen. And I felt this strange urge to start THEN. Not wait until I felt better. Not wait a minute longer. 

And I never stopped. I just kept going. 

And now I am resting. I'm equally tired and grateful. I have my home. I get along with my family and see them several times a year. I like where I live and what I do for work. I've got hobbies and interests. I've even made some new friends over the last year. I'm part of a professional association and a monthly social group. And I'm not making any more commitments than that. 

My life is so full. 

But for so long, my life felt so empty...
It began with empty arms and spread to my very existence.

I am glad to be on this side of things now. Eternally grateful.
There is always the other side to things... Keep moving through it.

And be sure to rest.

For me, resting looks like this: giving myself permission to do less, making warm tasty food at home, taking baths, taking naps, sewing, reading a book or magazine, looking out the window, taking slow deep breaths, relaxing my shoulders, and telling myself that I'm proud of myself. 

How do you rest?

Doing Things Differently

The past couple of weeks since my last post have been a bit of a whirlwind. 

I spent my first full week alone at home, although I stayed in communication with my ex.

I went out on Valentine's Day with a friend. She and I celebrated a belated Galentine's Day by splitting an amazing charcuterie board at a cute little wine bar. I don't like wine and had a cocktail. My friend ordered a non-alcoholic beer. We had so much fun.  

I worked a lot. I worked probably more than I should have considering the energetic demands of the last couple of months but work needed me and I needed work, so that's how that went.

I saw my ex-boyfriend when he came by to pick up something he needed.

And I got covid for the first time.

Seriously. 

I don't know if I caught covid while working, playing, or seeing my ex. But after two years of quarantining, a third year of masking, and a fourth year of staying up to date on booster shots and overcoming the mental blocks I developed over the aforementioned three years... I was pissed I got covid. I hate being sick. I did so much for so long to avoid it.

My ex-boyfriend stayed and took care of me. I'm really grateful. He kept me on a regimen of food, fluids, and over the counter medicine. He didn't feel well either but never tested and didn't get as sick as me. We assume he had it too. I didn't get terribly sick, but I didn't feel well for four days. As of this evening, I'm starting to feel a little better. We are still isolating though. There's not much information, but the CDC still recommends a five-day isolation period. So we're doing that.

This too shall pass.

I didn't do anything for the first three days, and it felt weird. I just ate food, drank fluids, took ibuprofen or acetaminophen, and tried to sleep as much as I could. 

I thought about how if I had kids, I would still have to take care of them even when I'm sick. But I don't have kids, so I don't have to take care of anyone else when I'm sick. Different lives, different problems. Different advantages and disadvantages.

I thought about facing my fears. How you think you could never deal with something but then you're forced to deal with it. You don't have a choice. I really didn't want to get covid and spent four years trying to avoid it. Now I have it. In the bigger picture of my life, I really didn't want to be childless. But here I am. 

I thought about how there's so much I want to do, and I don't take my enthusiasm for granted. There's so much I want to learn. Changing careers mid-life is challenging. I knew my old job extremely well. I had a lot of knowledge and experience. But with a new career, well, I am new. I have a lot of knowledge and experience to gain. Plus, I love what I do. I want to know more. 

I thought about quilts. There are so many quilts I want to make. I know of three quilts I definitely want to finish this year. There are two more on the forefront of my mind that I look forward to starting. And then there's all the rest of my fabric and patterns to keep me entertained, haha.

But I digress... Those were just some thoughts I had. I got sick and couldn't do anything, but I had some time to think about things. And things have been different.

I didn't have a post in mind. I just wanted to write something and check in. The last couple of weeks have been out of the ordinary. But other than being sick, things have been pretty good. Well, different. And even though I'm a creature of habit, different can be good.

Artwork by Pink Shark Scales

Getting Through & Reaching Out

I am going to get right to the point. I am going through a breakup. And it sucks. I hate it so, so much. I love companionship, and I don't love change. Plus, we aren't breaking up because we stopped loving each other. We are going our separate ways because of a (kinda long) list of things we could not work through together. It's really sad and hard.

So that is what I am going through. That is what colored my holidays. And it's what is affecting me on a daily basis right now. In some ways, it feels harder than my divorce.

But I'm not here to talk about the details of my relationship or its breakup. I am here to share how supportive my friends and family have been.

It is the complete opposite of what I experienced with infertility, failed treatments, and divorce.

When I didn't let anyone in.

During infertility, I was so embarrassed and ashamed. With failed treatments, I was devastated and hopeless. With divorce, I didn't know what to say. I was always private about the big stuff.

But now? I am struggling. And I have learned that I don't have to struggle in shame or silence. 

I don't even have to have any words in the moment. I can make a phone call and say "hello." I can send a text and say "hey." And when people reply, I can share what I am going through: a very, very painful breakup. That allows my family and friends to know what's going on and to be there for me.

I don't fault myself for not being open about infertility and failed treatments when I was going through it all. I couldn't be open back then. But I can be open now. And it is providing the much needed support that I deserve and that my loved ones want to give. 

Not to mention, several people have opened their homes to me. So if I had unlimited time and money, I'd be able to take some pretty nice trips, hahaha. But even though I can't travel all over the country right now, it's nice to receive the invitations.

I will get through this. And, yes, I am tired. I am so, so existentially tired. It's the last mile of a 12-year marathon, but it won't be the last challenge of my life. 

I'm proud of myself for reaching out. Even though our loved ones love us, it can be really hard to reach out for support. I am lucky to have the people that I have in my life. But that's also a testament to my hard work in maintaining relationships with people over the years. I am both lucky and hardworking.

I keep reminding myself of different phrases people have told me over the last month. My dad said, "You can do this. In fact, you are the only one that can," which really resonated with me. (I mean, just like with infertility, no one can go through a breakup for me.) I also have several girlfriends that are single, live alone, and love it. They have been encouraging without invalidating my pain. But the one thing that I really keep coming back to came from a fellow childless not-by-choice woman. She told me, "Be where you are." So throughout this whole process, I have been trying to do just that. Be where I am in that painful moment.

Reaching out and getting through...

Whatever you are going through, you will get through it. You just have to go through it to get through it. We all know you can't bypass the hard stuff. But if you can, reach out to someone. People want to support you. 

Sadness Comes and Goes

I cried on Xmas. Well, first I went to work. I prefer to work on the morning of Dec. 25th. It distracts me from thinking about Xmas mornings "that coulda been."

As an aside, I feel fairly confident I will never spend Xmas morning with anyone's children ever. Maybe if my niece or nephew (who have both repeatedly said they won't have kids) have kids. Maybe.

So, I'm really grateful that I work in a hospital and have the opportunity to work on the holiday. This year co-workers were wearing silly sweaters and hats, and someone brought in a bunch of cookies and snacks. Everyone was in a good mood. It was fun. It was festive.

And then I felt sad when I got home. So I gave myself that moment too.

I love that women who are childless not by choice can share what all they have overcome and what all they enjoy now. I also love that we are still honest when we have our sad moments.

And in the afternoon of Xmas 2023, I was sad. I felt my pain. I always wanted a family of my own. I don't have that, and I never will. We don't know the future but, because of age and logistics and everything, I have most likely missed being a close part of a small child's life. I will not have holidays with them. I will not watch them grow up. I will not get to help them and play with them. 

However, I did get to watch my niece and nephew grow up. That was pretty cool. I was a teenager when they were each born. The three of us are pretty close, and I feel like we are only getting closer as we grow older and continue to choose to have each other in our lives. Speaking of, I am overdue for a visit to them both in their respective cities...

Anyway, I digress. Which is how my childless-related sadness seems to go these days too. When I feel it, I feel it... And then I eventually get distracted by other thoughts or feelings. The sadness no longer stays all day (or week or month or year).

So I didn't have a great Xmas. I've got some stressful stuff going on that I am getting through. I loved seeing my family beforehand, and I'm glad I got to work on the actual holiday. But for the first time ever, I didn't even have a Xmas dinner. And now I've already packed up my tree and decorations. The Xmas holiday is over at my house and that is fine. I also look forward to it again next year.

Now, when I'm not working, I am resting and being still. You've heard me say it a million times, but I am tired. I am climbing one more mountain before I can truly rest for a minute, but I am pacing myself for the next couple of weeks. And even with my stress and sadness, I am looking forward to the future. I love seeing family, friends, and enjoying the little things.

🔮😎

Not Building, Just Living

I can rest now. I'm not trying to get anywhere or become anything. 

I am no longer building, no longer creating a life I want to live.

I'm just living it.

I've said it a million times, but it's still true. I am very, very tired. And very, very thankful. I am grateful I got out of where I was and got to where I am (both geographically and emotionally).

I just felt such a sense of urgency many years ago. I knew I had to grieve, but I also knew I had to start working on changing my life. I knew I couldn't go on "living" the way I was.

And that brings us to today.

I don't have kids, and now I don't want kids. I wanted kids. Very badly. But that didn't happen for me. I gave my all to trying to conceive. I didn't know it would leave me with nothing, preventing me from pursuing adoption at the time. I was always completely open to the idea of open adoption. I worked for an adoption and foster care agency for several years. I got great training and felt like I knew what was up. 

But I didn't know the debilitating pain of infertility.

It paralyzes you and destroys you but leaves you alive.

So, yeah...

It was quite the devastation to my life. And I couldn't do anything about it.

But I couldn't do nothing either.

Which brings us back to today again.

So much is over. The last month, the last ten years. So much is done. You'd think I would've rested today. But instead I moved some storage tubs into my storage closet. It's a part of my healing. The decluttering of my home.

But overall, I'm gonna rest by doing less. I'll still go to work. And I'm getting back into my research. Plus, I've got several quilts in progress. But those are all things I chose to do. In this life I created.

Image (pennant banner for sale) found here. 

Your Friendly Reminder To Do What You Want

I finally had some days off last week. I spent them running errands and going to medical appointments. I have some days off this week too. I am spending them doing what I feel like. Sewing, sleeping, watching tv. My house needs cleaning and decluttering, but I am very tired.

I will admit that I rented a storage unit. I accept that I'm keeping too many keepsakes, tea cups, and framed things, but I'm not ready to purge any of them yet. So yesterday I got a small storage closet to get them out of my house. But today it's raining so I'm not going to move anything.

I am resting instead.

We have all been through so much in the last couple of years, and that was on top of what we'd already been through before that. It's a hell of a lot. It's demanding. It's exhausting. It's hard on our bodies, our minds, our hearts, and our souls.  

How can you give yourself a break? What demands can you decrease or set down altogether? Where in your day or week can you give yourself some time to do nothing? 

The bills don't stop coming and neither does the bad news.
How can we shift our thinking so that we see and recognize the good stuff too? 

Like, I get aggravated with how much utilities cost, but I also love having indoor plumbing in my home. Going to the grocery store stresses me out, but I'm glad I have access to food. I don't say these things in a flippant way, and cultivating gratitude for all of the little/big things in life doesn't solely sustain me. But it does help me. So I'm sharing in case it helps you. 

Our brains are hardwired to hold on to the bad information. It's a protective action. I've had to put in a lot of work over the decades to learn how to see and recognize the good. It doesn't dismiss or absolve the bad, but it does help balance it out.

The loss of motherhood was more than the loss of my lifelong dream and my primal yearning to raise and nurture little humans in my home as they grew to be adults. It was also the loss of societal roles, normative routines, and expected milestones. It was the loss of a life that was completed structured around having children. It was the loss of relationships with family and friends as every single one of them changed. It was the loss of connection with others. It was the loss of connection with myself. It was the loss of who I was and who I thought I'd be. 

And then we all endure a pandemic? One that never really ended, it just wore us down as we adapted to this neurological virus becoming endemic.

Moving sucks. Finding a job and place to live. Packing, moving, closing down accounts, opening new accounts, changing your address on everything, learning your new town and neighborhood, meeting people, finding a place for yourself... It all takes years. And so many of us move so often. It sucks. It really sucks.

Divorce sucks. Changing your name back sucks. Even when it's "easy," it still completely sucks. It's the end of a relationship that you thought would be there forever. It shook my foundation, my sense of security. It was also freeing because I was so painfully lonely. But it still sucked. I don't ever, ever want to get divorced again.

Working a job you hate sucks. But how else are we going to buy our milk, coffee, fabric, car insurance, and rent/mortgage? I'm extremely thankful that I like what I do at my job. I worked hard to find something I liked and was good at. But not everyone gets that chance. 

It's a lot. It's a lot of stress. For anyone. And for so many of us, we are navigating it all under a thick blanket of disenfranchised grief. It can make everything heavier and harder. 

What can you quit? 

I'm a big fan of quitting. I'm countercultural like that. If it sucks, I quit. My parents used to worry that I'd had so many jobs, but now all of my experiences are such a benefit to my career. I've worked in multiple industries with all ages in all settings, and the skills are transferrable. I quit law school. I quit my marriage. I quit infertility treatments. If it's not good for us, we should quit. 

Life is too short.

Can you do less? Can you rest? Can you go to bed earlier and/or get up later?

What do you do to get in the flow? 

You deserve to enjoy your life.

(Artwork above found here for sale.)

(And listen to the song Enjoy Yourself, It's Later Than You Think here.)

Toast & Gratitude

I've got two different thoughts on my mind this afternoon.

*****

The first one is burnout. I am burnt like toast. I can barely manage my life right now. Last weekend I felt genuine pride for doing the dishes and laundry. This pediatrics coverage is killing me. It is very demanding and the pay is not good. Oh well. Only one more week to go!

Burnout is different from depression, although burnout can lead to depression. Burnout is also different from grief, although grief can also lead to depression. Combine all three (burnout, grief, and depression) and, whoa, it's a lot to manage. It's too much to manage. It's not sustainable.

I know I'm not the only one feeling this way. Infertility sucked. Involuntary childlessness sucks. The pandemic sucked. Inflation sucks. Climate change sucks. Suck, suck, suck. It all literally sucks your energy.

But the sun sets and the sun rises again. I employ my strategies. I decrease the demands I put on myself, and I cultivate appreciation for all the things. Big things like food and housing. Little things like hobbies and laughter. Well, really, the little things are big things too.

So yeah, I am burned out. And I do blame this pediatrics coverage. It's like I told another blogger over email earlier this week: kids are different these days. Parents are different. Most importantly, *I* am different. And I just can't do it anymore.

There's nothing in it for me. I don't have to work around a school schedule so I don't want to. Other people don't care if their kids can't read or write, so I can't afford to care either. I am not motivated to learn more or grow in this area, so I'm not interested in being a placeholder. I feel ineffective and disinterested, and that's not good for my mental health. (Although if I was interested in learning more, I'd delve into the research about screen time and neurocognition. There are some major things going on among iPads, You Tube, and smart watches and creativity, attention span, and executive functioning. Major.)

So yeah, burnout. I know I'm not the only one. And it's not exclusive to being in the wrong job. There are a lot of factors affecting us in 2023... But keep holding on! Life is still worth living. I truly believe that. Even when we're tired.

*****

The second thought is this: I am sooo glad I moved.

Are you thinking about moving? Do you need a change? Do it. Do it, do it, do it. 

Go where you want to go. Go where you want to be. 

I would be so depressed if I still lived where I lived for 25 years.

However, I am extremely excited about my trip to go visit in a couple of months. I already have it all planned out, and it's because of this pediatrics coverage that I can afford to go. So there's that to be thankful for.

But I reached out to a lot of friends last month to get on their calendar. I haven't seen anyone in 5.5 years, and I was hoping, with over 3 months notice, to be able to see as many as possible. So far, so good! I've got several dinners scheduled and a couple of events planned.

However, I might not get to see one of my best friends from high school. She works during the week (completely understandable), and then her kids have sports games on the weekends (also completely understandable). I wish she could skip one afternoon of games to meet up with me, but I don't know if I'd skip a game if I was in her shoes. So, I don't fault her for her schedule. That's what her life is right now. But... 

I am sooo glad I moved!!! If I hadn't moved, I would still be living my life according to everyone else's routines and schedules. Talk about a recipe for depression.

Now I am living MY life. It is structured around my needs, desires, routines, and schedule, which are inevitably different from all of my friends who are parenting. That's just the way it is.

So. There ya have it.

I am so grateful to be living a life I want to live. Even if I am temporarily burned out.

Tired & Grateful

Pure exhaustion. That's what I'm feeling. As many times as I have written here about how tired I am, I have reached a new level of fatigue.

Enduring infertility completely wipes you out. It robs you of everything.

And then if you want to change your life after infertility, you have to do it while you are initially in an energy deficit. The good news is that the changes you make can lead to renewed energy. But that takes time. It doesn't happen overnight.

So. Please allow me to repeat my list. Infertility, failed treatments, going back to school, moving out of state, getting divorced, finishing school, moving to a new town, starting a new job, starting another new job, pandemic hits, moving to another new town, starting another new job, quitting that job due to lack of pandemic precautions, navigating unemployment, starting another new job, buying a house and moving again (last move!), quitting that hostile job, giving myself a sabbatical, going back to school again, moving out of my storage unit, getting two new jobs, conducting CNBC research, and graduating again.

Yep.
I'm tired.
Changing your entire life is exhausting.

And absolutely worth it.

And today is Sunday, my only day off in a 10-day work period with a 2-hour roundtrip commute. I am spending the day reading in bed. And blogging. And more reading. And eating snacks. The awesome thing is this is the first day I'm off work AND out of school, which means I do not have any homework to do!!!

There's so much to be thankful for. My home, my jobs, my education, my health. Ski season is less than 100 days away, and that is what I live for. (You'd think with the way that I talk that I am some expert skier. I am not, hahaha. I just love to ski. I'm a solid intermediate skier.) 

Also, that quilting sew along starts next month, and I am pretty excited about that too. The two guys that organized it have created a whole online community so we can post our thoughts, questions, and pictures; watch tutorials; be a part of product giveaways; and just all around connect with people around the world who are sewing this Alice in Wonderland quilt top for the next nine months. Although the quilt kits are sold out, you can still buy your own fabric and register for the online quilt community if this sounds like something you want to do. 

I'm thinking about what jobs I want to apply for now that I am graduated. I love my current jobs but they are only PRN, which means they call me when they need me. It's covering the bills for now (both places have needed me more than they anticipated), but I kind of want more steady employment. Or maybe I will wait until 2024. My boyfriend is telling me to just take some time to rest before jumping into the next thing. I think I should take his advice.

So that's where I am. Pausing in the middle of the road of my life after a very, very long and arduous 12-year period. I feel so dang 1) proud of myself and 2) grateful for you. I know I would not be where I am today without this blog and my readers. Thank you.

💜

I'll leave you (for now, but not for long!) with a story from work this week.

I walked into a patient's room a couple of days ago. She was there while recovering from surgery. She was an older woman with a diagnosis of dementia. Once I met her, I realized how progressed her dementia was. She was very sweet but not able to communicate much verbally. For example, I tried to keep my language simple, but she answered every question with "yes." 

I noticed her patient chart did not mention anything about children. I was thinking about her need for care as her dementia continued to progress and asked if she had any kids. That was the first time she said "no." I told her, "I don't either." And just like with previous patients I have told you about, she immediately made eye contact with me with a knowing look in her eyes. 

I continued, "And I can't have them, so I won't be having any." And she looked at me and said her first complete sentence. She said, "And that's how that will be." I agreed and said, "Yes. That's how that will be." And we just looked at each other and smiled. It was a really powerful moment. I felt like, amidst her dementia-related confusion, she got to experience a moment of clarity right then. I felt like we really connected. 

It was an incredible moment that only women like us can understand.

Conversations with Adults

They're not as easy as conversations with kids.
Kids don't want to solve my problems with a baby like adults seem to want to do.

I engaged in a long conversation at work last week. It was my choice. I chose to do it. But I was still wiped out afterward. It started when I said I'd be out for graduation in a couple of weeks. My co-worker asked about my research and I told her the title of my project. 

It set off a lot of questions from her. Which was good I guess. Because she didn't know much about infertility, fertility treatments, and living childless not-by-choice. And like I said, I chose to have the conversation.

But.

I need to remember how depleted and frustrated I felt.
Maybe I don't want to have those conversations anymore.

Did you try IVF?
Was it really like that?
All those shots?
How many?
How long?
How much?
Like, it's really expensive right?
Should I freeze my eggs?
Well, there's always adoption. Have you thought about adoption?
What about China? 
Can't you get a baby from China?
There's lots of 12 year olds. Why don't you adopt a 12 year old?
What if I got pregnant? I'll just give my baby to you.

I've gotta give my co-worker credit. She filled the BINGO card faster than most. And I promise you that she's a lovely person. Like I said, I chose to have this conversation. (But I honestly wasn't expecting every stereotypical question and comment in the book!)

Anyway.

Now she knows.
Two IVFs. Adoption didn't work either. Was married. Now divorced. ("Well, isn't it good that you didn't have children, then?" Whyyy does everyone think it's okay to say this to me??) No kids. 43. Here I am.

Gah. It was exhausting.

But she learned a lot. And I guess I did too.
Like, I don't want to do that again for a long, long time!

And then adult conversation #2?

Well, it was satisfying because at least I thought of what to say in the moment, instead of after. The context of the conversation doesn't even matter. You'll see. Here goes.

Her: Well, as a parent, I was so worried!

Me: I know! I'm NOT a parent, and I was also worried!!

Again, another lovely person. Just everyone is so entrenched in the pronatalist culture. 

I roll my eyes so much.