delunawrites.bsky.social
174 posts
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36 following
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At this stage we wish for one night a week of decent sleep, if that’s not tonight, maybe it’s tomorrow!
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They’re new for me in perimenopause and horrible. I was recently endometriosis diagnosed and it explains all the fainting and missing days of school when I was young but this is a different hell.
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Migraines! They are the new scourge! I get them with every period and it’s debilitating.
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I’ll soon be 44 and have decided it’s no longer “weight loss”, it’s “can I look right and tight?”
Perimenopause has completely erased weight loss no matter what the exercise. I’m just doing squats and weights to be strong at this point.
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Slow clap 👏🏼
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Watched our worlds shrink, felt our minds slow, as we seek to broaden those of our children.
We have yelled and scolded more than we ever intended to and we feel bad about it.
We are new, we are harassed, we are loved and loving.
Happy Mother’s Day.
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Tripped over Legos and busted out toe on the child’s table.
Let ourselves go byonly taking showers 2x per week, putting our hair in a bun, leaving makeup in the bag.
Lost our hot bodies and replacing them with mom bodies as we eat leftovers from the kids’ plate and watch the bike collect dust.
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She’s just woken up, the first thing she said to me, “Mommy, I stayed in my bed all night!”
Her voice completely hoarse, legs wobbly, body unsteady.
“Baby, do you remember anything that happened last night?.”
“No.”
I explained it all.
“No. I don’t remember that.”
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Rattled, it took me an hour to fall asleep and I woke every hour or so to feel if she was in the bed with me.
My right eye is twitching, my back and ribs hurt, I feel numb and exhausted.
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day in my country.
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I continued to count, she started to calm down. Settled in, I settled in too. We both fell asleep.
12:30a, she screamed again and kicked me right in the nose.
“I’m sorry baby. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to sleep in my room, you can come if you want to.”
She stayed in her bed all night.
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“There is your bear, your cat, there is Randall the dog, there is the picture of Darth Vader, there are the pictures of your family.”
Still she screamed. I had to cover her mouth because it was so loud and little children live above us, hopefully still asleep.
She pushed me and kicked my cheek.
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She became violent. Trying to hit, punch, push me away. I turned on the light. She screamed more and hid in the covers.
“Baby open your eyes! You’re in your own room!”
Then I started doing what I do for myself when I’m having an anxiety attack- counting things in her room.
“This is your bed.”
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“…Yogurt, coconut water, protein powder, chia seeds, blend.”
“Which jacket? Which boots? Umbrella?”
“Why didn’t I just wait til morning? Why didn’t I control my impulse?”
“Grocery store, birthday present, wine store. Rush back. Hold baby in carrier.”
“I want to exercise but my legs hurt…”
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“I wonder what it’s like to be a child? Learning new things everyday instead of rolling around and around in this rut of a mind. Every groove wearing deeper and deeper. Is life exciting when you’re three or anxiety inducing or both?”
“Why did I say that? Why did I type anything in the night?”
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All I have said to myself for a week is, “I hope you’re ok. I know everything is overwhelming. I know everything is too much. I wish I could help you feel ok. I wish I could help you feel better. I wish I could take care. I wish I could hold you.”
I wish I could say anything good. Anything to help.
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In anguish because let’s be real, there is anguish.
In anger because let’s be real, there is anger.
In love because let’s be real, there is love.
And kindness and graciousness and softness and wanting to take care of and wanting to ask if you are ok.
Are you ok? How are you? Are you overwhelmed?
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Hooooo boy
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And if the community wins every time then I have no business saying anything in the first place. Especially not anything that would question decisions made regarding one’s place in the community.
So I walked off into the sunset, told myself to fuck all the way off, and not bother anyone again.
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And when we got there it was all curses and curses and curses and I said, “See? What is the point? Can we not be good people without this?”
And we changed topics, not because the lawyer couldn’t respond but because there is no point to all of this arguing. In the end, the community wins.
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And we dug into the text. For some silly reason. I said, “Ok so if the Torah is the first five books but then the Protestants have these books and the Catholics have those books, not to mention the New Testament, then where do we land?”
So we landed at Zephania of all places.
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“A woman so out of shape, she’s started naming her fat rolls. ‘This one is Charlie, this one is Hubert, this one is Ryan, and this one is Richard- That cocksucker.”
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(Hat tip to Rosebud Baker’s new special “The Motherlode”. That shit was scorching. Haven’t laughed that hard in a minute.)
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All sounds might be the baby or the toddler heading to my bed. She didn’t sleep last night either so from 1:30-4 neither of us slept, we just rolled back and forth and fought with the blankets and air conditioning.
I think I’m gonna lose it. I just need one 5 hour period of sleep where I stay in.
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Thinking and waiting. Thinking and waiting. Seems to be much of my life, I with the babies and the infant parent brain. I really am tired. So much more tired than when my eldest was a baby. This time there is no break, no moment to relax and truly rest. It’s all anticipation, it’s all being on.
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The smell may have been me? Every night at 3am I get night sweats and the curse of a fast running mind. The sweats are thanks to perimenopause, the mind that never ceases is my own doing.
I wake and say sorry, I say it over and over again and wonder if it should write anything down or wait again.
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I am the support person. I hate to admit it, my pride hates myself for it, it’s unsexy as hell.
And it’s not that I’m indecisive, I know what I want, I just know my place. Next to, underneath, alongside, but not at the lead.
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Yet as I type this, I realize this is what makes me good at Middle Management, but not a great leader. I am extremely detail oriented and analytical, big picture is there but it’s not what drives me. I’m too studied, too in the letters, too black and white.
So with relationships. Not the leader.
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I’m sure this would be fun to talk about in therapy but I’m sure this is also what made me good at business, especially new business- fear, hunger, paying attention to details, thinking about it when off the clock, never really being off the clock, never quite able to turn it off, always a bit on.
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Women though, real women are terrifying. Edge of the seat, heart racing, nerves on, mind fast, body rumbling. (It’s rumbling right now, I think I might throw up.)
I need that, that little bit of fear, it keeps me interested, it keeps me in line, makes me say yes, reminds me of how much I need them.
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Right? Maybe being someone who was so royally fucked and so ready to panic, means I can be someone who says, “It’s ok to panic because the panic is temporary. And so what if you puke? You just clean it up and move on.”
Yeah, ok bitch. We can do that.
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Not that I feel there’s anything wrong with being a person who is super sensitive, I just know what kind of life she’s being set up for and fuck me, it’s not great. It’s very stressful on a physical level, the kind of life that you wish you could avoid.
But maybe I can change views for her?
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I’m not exactly sure which mistake we made but my lil baby girl has thrown up all day. As her mother, her biological mother who also threw up all the time, I can sense the clues, so I spent the whole day anticipating and maneuvering and preventing and snuggling and…anxiety.