Stick Season

Content Warning: May discuss topics of mental illness, suicide/suicidal ideation, addiction

Greetings and salutations, friends. This post has been a long time coming. And quite a time it’s been! I fell off a tightrope without a net, metaphorically speaking, but I think we’re back in business. I’m picking myself up, one piece at a time.

I’d been overdoing it all spring and summer, attempting to strive for some level of wellness that I am not capable of achieving right now, and pushing myself to the limit to make sure that our lives and our home were running smoothly. (They weren’t.) I was trying to prove to my partner and our families (and myself) that I was fine, when in reality I was actually seriously considering checking myself into a hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. (Which, if you know me well, you have probably heard me say I would rather die than go back to a hospital.) And news kept pouring in on all sides. Most public, general news of war and politics. Some much more personal and painful. There’s been a lot of loss this year (because cancer is evil, addiction is a fucking disease, and fentanyl is poison). It’s all felt like one sucker punch after another.

I couldn’t get back up without support - friends far away who’ve taken time out of their busy schedules to check in from states (and countries) afar; old friends who are always always there when things fall apart; family who can seemingly move mountains (of our stuff); and my spouse. My ‘long-suffering’ husband who is there for the bad days and the scary days and the worst moments -  and still he stays through sleepless nights and appointments and endless tests and bills. I really lucked out with my partner, and we have worked so hard to get to where we are together today. I’m so fucking proud of us, of how far we’ve come and of where we’re going. There are days when I wonder if we really can do anything if we try (and secure the right funding).

Right now we live in a beautiful rental house, but we are stuck with shitty neighbors (again 🙄). It’s fine, this place is but a (really nice, but overpriced) waystation. We’re out of here by Spring, and off to our permanent (and owned!) digs. We’re getting our shit together medically, mentally, financially, emotionally. We’re watching not nearly enough Dropout and way too much political media. I’m catching up on the medical stuff I’ve been neglecting. (Hey, I don’t have cancer! Officially!) I’ve been writing songs, because songwriting doesn’t leave physical messes (only emotional ones). It’s been a beautiful catharsis. And surprisingly, it hasn’t been that much quieter in my head without social media. 

That being said, I don’t think I’m going back to Facebook any time soon. But I think I’ll be easing back into Instagram as the weather turns colder. All this self-imposed social media hiatus has done (besides make my life a lot quieter) is turn me into even more of an introvert and agoraphobe than I was before. And I miss my friends. A lot. And I want to rejoin the world. I’ve been listening to a ton of new music, and I want to see more shows. I’m going to keep writing songs. It’s a really nice cathartic exercise to do for myself.

So, although I’m “officially” putting the Unwilling Housewife project on hold until after our move is done (which will be sometime before March), I’m going to switch back on. Life’s too short to stay in the shadows. I’ve got some personal projects to keep me sane while we’re house hunting. Gifts for small (and not so small) children of friends and family, long overdue. Playing catch-up on my aunt-ly duties. Finding joy in content creating again. Having fun doing this, which was the whole point of this endeavor. So come join me, friends, as we embark on the next leg of this mad, exciting  adventure! 

Cheers!

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Working Too Hard Can Give You a Heart Attack