hi

 Hi Jess,

I’m writing to you here because I used to spill my guts here a lot. This used to be my sacred place where I sorted my thoughts, dreams, emotions, and traumas. For the most part, I write here as though the reader believes that they are the only one in the world who noticed that I published a new post. In reality, for the most part, my entries have 0 views. Sometimes, though, an entry will have 400+ views and some really sweet comments and DMs. This blog has always been where I allowed myself to be most vulnerable, as though no one were reading/because no one was reading/even though people were reading. 

I abandoned it sometime when I started to fall into a deeper depression, I suppose. Whereas anxiety led me here to this blog to untangle the crisis-crossing worries, fears, and criticisms zooming through my head, depression left me blank. Empty. Flat.

Switched off. 

I wanted to write to you telling you an arc of what I’d been going through: perinatal depression, the pandemic, a traumatic labor and birth, a traumatic postpartum hospital stay, sleepless nights as I stubbornly stuck to exclusive breastfeeding, getting on Zoloft, hiding in our home downtown while it felt like the city burned down around us, a COVID scare, mastitis, engorgement, milk blisters, Reynaud’s of the nipple, more pandemic, learning how to pump, starting a new school year in a pandemic (see: breastfeeding while teaching in my own bedroom after a sleepless night, attending to the traumas of teenagers navigating an uncertain world), increasing my dosage, working four part-time jobs, T not being able to meet any of his grandparents in his first year of life, therapy, motherhood, increasing my dosage again, group therapy; watching, horrified, as violence against folks who look like me and my family erupted on our very block and in our neighborhoods, gaining pound after pound, no longer fitting in any of my clothes, not recognizing myself in the mirror anymore, navigating a new way of being with my partner…

I wanted to explain to you everything I had gone through in the past twenty-some-odd months.

But right now, I finally opened my laptop to type to you because I need to vent about something right now. 

I’m tired of feeling like the de facto primary care giver. I’m not saying that I am. I’m not saying that B isn’t doing his part. I’m just saying that I feel like I am and I don’t want to feel this way. 

I’m so tired. I don’t sleep anymore.

I don’t know.

Meet You at the Intersection of...

Everything is impermanent; attachment leads to suffering. Nine years ago, I packed two suitcases and moved to another state. Six months later, I repacked those two suitcases and moved to another country. I stayed on the go for two years thereafter. I never brought much with me; I often lived out of a backpack for days or weeks at a time. Anything I had collected over my two-year stint in Japan, I largely left behind when I moved back to the Bay Area to a small, subletted, furnished apartment.  

Necessity breeds action. Eight years ago, my necessity was paying down my student loans; my action was learning about personal finance and practicing frugality.

Refuse, reduce, reuse, recycle, rot. A year ago, I learned about the zero waste lifestyle. I noticed that minimalism and frugality had already led to some zero waste and environmental sustainability practices (like cutting down on consumption, eating in rather than eating out, making do with what we have, borrowing rather than buying or buying second hand when necessary, free or cheap entertainment options like hiking and camping), but I figured, with those practices under my belt, I might as well also take action that focused on environmental benefit also figured that whereas minimalism and frugality 

-still about once a week (anxious)

-reading: safe enough, mental unwellness more risk to self and baby than medication

-I miss weekly sessions with the group... but virtual prenatal yoga with a group has been very helpful

-more weary of what is to come than what is. 

Need to process.

Medication has worked so far, my baseline feels calm and normal. I feel appreciative of my baby. I feel energized to take care of him, I feel able to solve problems and block out stressors.

I experienced a lot of traumatic events from the night of May 29-June 1.

I will list these out later.

Good:

Dr. Allyse Ishino 

The nurses

Brian

Getting medication 

People who calmed me down: John Hunte, Michelle, Sandra, Rosesnna, Manilla, B??

The social workers

All of these people were able to “be” with me emotionally. Even though it’s their job to deal with logistics, I felt emotionally held by so many people. They told me to breathe through the contractions. They gave me visualizations. They kept eye contact with me when I started to spiral out. They held my hand.

6/3 5:12am

Feeding. Is the world burning down around me?

Keeping my baseline at 5 for Theo.

I'm super late on my birthday tradition. I have a lot of excuses: 1) Taking care of tb, 2) Getting surprise after surprise after surprise by my loving family, 3) Spending quality time with family and phone conversations with friends in the days that followed, 4) Many ailments, including a COVID scare and the stress of isolation that kept me from wanting to do anything other than lay in bed, sleep, and fret.

I've been trying to organize my thoughts about what I want to say this year. The past year has been one for the books, to say the least. In just a simple list, without even reflection, I can tell you that it consisted of trying to get pregnant for several months (and being met with heartbreak with each negative pregnancy test), becoming pregnant and keeping it a secret for 3-4 months, crunch time with finishing my field study for my Master's, traveling to Iceland at the beginning of a pandemic, weathering a pandemic while still working, in school, and pregnant, an intense labor and delivery, postpartum recovery, and the fourth trimester.

But first,

Lessons Learned in my 32nd year:

1) Practice vulnerability, even with strangers. Socially, I've always seen myself as a bit of a wallflower, particularly in large groups of strangers and acquaintances (heck, even in large groups of friends). I thrive in one-on-one settings. However, these past couple of months, in three different social circles, I took a leap and bore my soul to a group of folks who I didn't necessarily feel particularly close to. I shared my story because I felt that it needed to be shared. The effect? I felt the group loosen up, open up, and become closer with one another. I like to think that I caused that to happen by being the first to jump into the deep end. 

One Year

 Today marks one year since the Bay Area entered Shelter in Place.

March 15th, 2020, BC and I were worried that we wouldn’t be able to get home from Iceland.

March 16th, 2020 BC and I begin what we thought would be our two-week quarantine.

March 17th, 2020 The Bay Area enters Shelter in Place for what we think will be 21 days.

March 17th, 2021 I finished my graduate program, K birthday, K&P got married, T entered the world, my birthday, we close on our house, I start a new job, and another new job, N’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, BC’s birthday, I start another job (four part-time jobs in total! while parenting!), T turns 9 months... And here we still are.

One year in quarantine.