Two years ago a phlebotomist came into my room at 5 am. She inserted a needle into the crease of my elbow like someone had once every few days for the last two weeks. I was amazed they were still able to find a vein. Nothing stands out about that particular needle stick. It melts together with all the rest of the early morning wake up calls that involved someone standing over me with a needle and vacutainer.
My village. My friends. My family. I’ve talked and blogged about my village ad nauseam. If I ever win a major award I won’t have to write a speech, I can just go copy and paste.
Standing at the Intersection of Quirky and Weird
savor every moment?
subscribe to a the dishes can wait attitude?
find nature to be the best antidepressant?
Some days suck. Sometimes the house needs to be cleaned while the kids watch cartoons of questionable quality. And Zoloft? Yeah, I heart that shit.
I started blogging in the late 90s, back before blog was a word. Get off my lawn. I wrote mostly boring tidbits about my day that nobody save my mother would want to read. In 2015, after my son was born two months early I found my voice in writing the realities of the situation.
Turns out my voice says fuck a lot, and isn’t afraid to talk about mental illness.
Late in 2015 people started paying me to write words, and I assumed they had made a mistake, but figured I should cash in before anyone noticed.
So far my failure has continued to go undetected. My therapist and friends say it has something to do with talent, at which point I put my hands over my ears and hum repetitive tunes.
Despite an endless reserve of self deprecation I have managed to write for quite a few outlets, and was recently chosen to be part of the National Geographic Kids Insiders program.
What about you, Rhiannon?
I live in a solidly liberal bubble of North Carolina, which plays well with my life goal to avoid being burned at the stake.
I have long known I suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder, yet was 33 before I realized that means I have anxiety. Quite a bit of it, as it turns out.
I know all of the words to It's the End of the World as We Know It.
When I was 9 I was in an all-elementary production of Macbeth. When I was 17 I thought that meant I didn't need to read the play again for English class. I was mistaken.
My daughter, Lorelei, was born in 2010, and was a full term induction due to Cholestasis of Pregnancy. I like a full range of experiences so I went with partial abruption and severe Preeclampsia for my second pregnancy. Rowan was born in 2015 via an urgent c-section at 31 weeks and 5 days, and spent 40 days in the NICU.
Because my younger sister couldn't pronounce Rhiannon.
She has since learned.
You are all sorts of awesome, how can I virtually stalk you?
The first thing you should do, is go follow me on social media. I'll wait here.
Then you can always go check out my full online portfolio of freelance work.
What random internet strangers are saying
7:30pm – Put Rowan in the swing. Turn it to level three, turn on the music, turn on the lights and mobile, stand on one leg, wish on a star, and sell my soul in hopes he will actually fall asleep.
I haven’t slept for more than three straight hours in eight months. I’m being held together through sheer force of will, caffeine, and napping in toilet stalls. Sometimes I forget what I’m doing – while I’m doing it. Why am I in the kitchen and why is the cat in the refrigerator? Did I say cat? I meant toothbrush. Sometimes I mix up words. I have a yoga mat in my office that is only used for corpse pose.
I’m mostly doing a decent job of being a person who is, you know… awake. But there are some things that I am just not capable of dealing with right now.
December is the time for every news outlet, blog, and radio station to cash in on rehashing the last year’s worth of content. Seems like as good a place as any to start this blog.
I just realized how inexplicably sad I am for a past version of myself. I look at the pictures of me pregnant and just think, “You. You have no idea.” I want a time turner or a TARDIS so I can go cross my own timeline and tell that version of myself that it is all going to be okay. Excruciating at times, but ultimately okay. I’d like a future version to come confirm that, come to think of it.