I have this recurring stress dream where my favorite band is playing in town and I don’t know it until it’s almost too late. Sometimes I miss the show, sometimes I barely make it. Sometimes I’m in my underwear. Like you do.
A couple of days ago, I was cheering to some friends that my therapist will be back from maternity leave soon. A friend responded, “Party down to sanity town!”
Tales of a First Grade Basket Case
I’m astoundingly good at taking my own experiences and anxieties, and making them into new anxieties about Lorelei’s experiences. I’m like a fucking anxiety superhero or something.
It starts as scattered seeds — kernels anchored by anxiety and waiting for the right conditions to sprout. Some days they are fertilized by memories. Some days by fear. Most often they germinate themselves, arriving with a lunchbox of sunlight and water as they feed one another.
Rowan had his hearing test yesterday. It was at Duke Children’s Hospital, which is part of what we call “big Duke,” (aka the main hospital). This meant parking in the main Duke parking deck and walking through the underground tunnel into the hospital.
I figured the time around Rowan’s birthday would throw some hard days my way, as memories were dredged up and pushed to the front of my brain in a way they haven’t been in a while. I expected moments of sadness over everything surrounding his birth and the time after — the bittersweet joy of his first birthday.
This week. Three repubs on Huffington Post. An original post on Scary Mommy. Scary Mommy also picked up one of the Huffington Post essays. I got a syndication offer. Thousands upon thousands of likes, comments, and shares.