Daycare drop off, then work. Desk, meeting, desk, meeting, coffee, coffee, COFFEE. Eat lunch at my desk, quick gym session in the afternoon, desk, meeting, LEAVE. Daycare pickup, and we're home.
Doc McStuffins on, and I'm in the kitchen. Dinner prepped, cooked, she and I eat together. Couch snuggles until daddy comes home, he eats and I clean the kitchen. Bedtime routine underway, "two short books," two songs, light off. 8pm. Laptop or phone on, work 'til 9pm, finish tidying the kitchen and prep coffee pot for the next day. Melatonin popped, read in bed until it starts working. Lights out. 9:45pm. Seven-point-five hours later, begin again.
Domesticity's such a drag, isn't it?
I've been struggling lately. Partly due to this new routine, which makes 4-5 days per week look exactly like the above (with the swapping of the gym session for a run some days). The weekends are a frenzy of cleaning and cooking so as to make the week as streamlined as possible. Throw in meal planning (with a spreadsheet), grocery shopping (with an app), and budgeting (yet another spreadsheet), and I truly feel more Roomba than human most of the day. I usually rock a good routine, and gain immense satisfaction from efficiency. I suppose I'm burning out a bit.
A larger part of the problem, I know, is this Nexplanon in my arm pumping a constant flow of crazy-making hormones through my body. I didn't mind this thing at first, because the physical side effects were mild and the mental ones virtually nonexistent. At first. I'm not sure if something's changed, or if this is just an inevitable side effect of a full year-and-a-half of altered hormones, but yikes. I feel like I did when I was on the pill, arguably one of the lowest times in my life for no good reason beyond chemically-induced depression (not to talk about the physical side-effects - suffice to say, those have ramped up as well). I have little patience for things that negatively impact my quality of life for too long, so I'm going to have to do something soon. I'm just not quite ready for the obvious solution, you know what I'm saying?
I'm venting, but most of you reading are females, and you understand. Sometimes, it feels like the responsibility for birth control on top of all the other roles and duties is just too much. Especially when the "best" solution makes you feel like total crap all the time.
I chose mindfulness as my theme and mantra for the year, and it is resonating with me right now in a big way. I feel the weight lift when I make the extra effort to be present in the moment. Observing my daughter, marveling at how small and warm she is, how intelligent and silly, taking the time to sit on the couch with her and just watch her, it helps. Being present at work, throwing my whole mind into various tasks and problems, that helps too. Consistent exercise is somewhat of a challenge right now with how my body is reacting, but I still run 20ish miles per week, and during weeks I feel good, I ramp up my other workouts for balance. None of it makes much of a difference in how I physically feel, but it relieves the crazy and brings me peace. Life is truly, thoroughly good. Mundane, routine-driven, semi-robotic much of the time, but beautiful nonetheless. And though I'm pissed that I am not able to fully feel and enjoy it right now, it will be okay. I know what's causing it, and I know it won't last forever. I can stand through this season. The next will be better.
So there you have it. I've decided to revert this back to more of a personal journal-type blog, instead of trying to generate "content" on lifestyle/social issues, etc. It remains a life goal, but right now I just do not have the mind space and time to devote to it. I want to write for me, for the therapeutic effect of processing feelings through the written word, and embracing vulnerability by putting it out there in the universe.
There you have it. If you read all that, and if you chose to keep reading... you are my tribe, and I am thankful for you.