Today I turn thirty. I like it because 3 is an odd number and a prime number, which feels safe (OCD, remember?), and I’m still not as old as I’ve always felt, which is about forty-five. I don’t think I’m going to miss my twenties, which were kind of awkward and melodramatic, but I met my husband towards the end of them and I learned a whole lot about who I am and who other people are, so I don’t regret them. It’s just nice to be moving into a new decade of motherhood and love and hope and bravery and faith and all those wonderful things. I really am looking forward to my thirties immensely.
So in honor of my birthday, here is a list of thirty things – anything, everything. I really am writing as topics leap into my mind, so this could go anywhere. (I’m wild!) Continue reading “Thirty on Thirty”
…you get all uppity, railing away at someone’s incompetence/rudeness/unconcern for the time and/or feelings of others, because how dare they inconvenience you, and you’re having quite an enjoyable temper tantrum/pity party when that still small voice says, in some amusement,
“Yeah, because you’re perfect.”
Getting back up, brushing myself off, getting back on my horse. Just not the high one this time.
Overall, I’m continuing to make progress on the postpartum anxiety and OCD front. I’ve had problems with anxiety for a long time (though never to this extent), so I knew from the beginning not to expect a linear recovery and to be happy with a predominately upward trend. I just never expected recovery to take so long or for the inevitable dips to be so deep. James turned ten months old a couple days ago and I can’t believe that I’m still not over this. I’m hard on myself a lot; I get frustrated with myself a lot. I’ve always prized the rational mind and its ability to demystify itself: if I’m feeling bad, it’s because I’m doing/thinking this thing or that thing wrong, so if I change that thing, I should feel better, right?
Well. Apparently not always. Continue reading “The Pause That Terrifies”