9 our of 10 people I’ve met don’t like to be micromanaged. The tenth one is someone I work with. I really really don’t like having to micromanage her and hold her hand through all her tasks. It’s not even the act of micromanaging her that I don’t like. It’s micromanaging her specifically, someone who doesn’t take initiative on completing any of her tasks. It’s like getting a rock to roll uphill.

My stomach is turning in knots. My heart is racing. My uterus hurts. I feel like I’m losing control in every area.

Returning

Trying out blogging again to see if it will help me cope with all the up-coming shenanigans of a cross-country move. Since I last blogged, I’ve become more self-conscious with my writing so I don’t know if this blog will become another thing I gauge my performance on. Who knows, I feel stress settling in already, the throbbing of pain in my stomach- where I hold my stress, and also I’m noticing my lack of breathing- also mirrored by this run on sentence. On and on and on and on. I think of all the crappy things that take place in the world, and what’s a cross country move in comparison to someone fleeing for their life to another country–through streams, desserts, famine, anything and everything.

I know I’m in a position of privilege to be able to ask: what’re we to do with our condo? Our condo, which we worked on twice over, and lived in for a mere 7 months, our condo, a physical reminder of how crappy things happen–sometimes for no reason at all. our condo encapsulates all the lessons we learned from 2020 in witnessing injustice, how the maddening thing with injustice is that the victim is harmed for no good reason, other than the fact that the perpetrator is neglectful, malicious, incompetent, inadequate, or power-hungry in some way. It feels chaotic, random, unpredictable, and completely maddening.

What to do with our car, which we had been leasing, which was in the shop for a while because of a crappy tow-truck driver who didn’t follow protocol.

What to do with my job, which I found out today will be more difficult to transfer over to remote work from NY city than I thought. Residency, taxes, insurance, all of these things get confusing when one moves to another state. The thought of not having stable health insurance is not fun–especially when I hope to try having a kid again. The stress that this past year have weighed on me and I fear I won’t be able to physically have a kid.

What do with all our stuff, which is currently divided in three different places and cities. How do we get that to NYC?

NYC is our promise-land of sorts, only in the way that I cannot wait to get there and to finally breathe and not worry about balancing an ongoing number of calculations related to #adult-ish things.

I miss playing. And playing just means, wandering completely lost in the moment.

Not caring,

Not worrying,

Are great luxuries.

In times of great stress, I’ve been trying to pray more to the divine, sometimes the divine shepherd, other times the divine shepherdess.

To the divine: help me.

Breaking point

This has been a hard year of confronting reality. I think the me of pre-2020 believed in the Christian feel good out-of-context words of encouragement “God will fulfill your promises”, “God is doing all things for your good”.

Those words don’t do anything to acknowledge the suffering of the black community at the hands of the police/white supremacy. Those words don’t do anything to acknowledge the erasure of the native community at the hands of colonialism. The destruction of the environment by capitalist interests of profit at all costs. The suffering of women and the LGBT + gender non-conforming community who have survived ongoing gender-based violence mostly perpetuated by men. The suffering of marginalized communities and others by people not taking seriously the wearing of masks in a pandemic.

This year more so than any year I’ve taken a break from the Christianity I was socialized in, the one that emphasized individuality, paternalism, and highlighted the theological interpretations of white men, who have used Christianity as a weapon to conform others in their likeness.

I’ve seen the lies that followers of Fox News and Donald Trump believe and the damage it has caused in perpetuating ignorance of structural inequalities and racism.

And in my own life, I have experienced a level of misery and hopelessness that is unparalleled in my 32 years of existence.

The veil that everything is going to have a Disney ending has finally lifted.

Life can be so cruel and so hard.

When there are such things like laughter and joy, peace and love- it truly is a miracle of God.

complaining to release feelings

it’s 6:44pm. i’m sitting outside our condo in the dark on my laptop writing because inside our unit is a flume of dust and chemical smells trapped within 500 square feet, things that my brother in law is immune to.

a bunch of fresh groceries stowed away to be cooked, cookies for my coworkers waiting to be baked. a couch with a fleece blanket now covered in dust– all left for a later use. i’m hungry, tired from work, emotionally exhausted.

the domestic hallmark feel good plan derailed again and again. 6 months of living without predictability or stability can really bring me to ruin–and it can ruin any marriage, i promise you this.

to the girls who fawn over nate’s instagram posts about how great our place looks and how jealous they are, you ladies have no idea the cost.

 

 

Date with myself

I’m sitting in the newly designed Snow Park across from the gorgeous Lake Merritt. There’s a bunch of kids playing on the structure for a birthday celebration, pedestrians walking, a man walking around proselytizing about how great Oakland is, sunshine, breeze, birds flying around, fresh air.

Just finished a really good counseling session with Gina.

It feels nice to have the permission to be alone and enjoy life, without pressure to further, to produce, to deliver. No expectations. I feel a twinge of guilt writing that. Knowing the amount of suffering in the world, the tasks left undone, the friends who I’m not being with. Permission to be free of expectations. That is a radical act I am not used to.

Construction work and no sabbath is unbearable

 

it is fucking unbearable

Vortex

Life has been a vortex of busyness.

it’s nice to sit down in the Oakland rose garden for a breath.

to feel the wisps of wind floating by.

the faintest smell of roses.

Plump squirrels nibbling on nuts.

wild turkeys honking. Yes there are turkeys here.

For a moment time stops.

 

work is a series of learnings of my circle of control, and not being hung up when there’s a discrepancy with what i want us to be doing vs what we can realistically do. my gift and curse is seeing the potential in something and having the drive to spearhead it. but it’s hard when change comes so slow.

i feel like the person who has to continuously follow up with others on a million things but they’re held up because of other reasons.

i care so much about us doing a good job that it is literally killing me from stress that we are falling short,

God teach me to accept the things i cannot change. and operate within my circle of control.

doing DIY home renovations is insanity.

• blowing through the budget like it’s a straw man argument
• manual labor
• limited time to be with friends
• limited capacity to get immersed in church community
• less time to relax, rest and be restored

even so, I do see how God has been providing here and there.

Nate and I had an insane idea that became an insane reality.

i cannot wait for this time to be over.

Good Friday, To Jane

I loved your laughter

It was a laughter that let me feel I could say the weird inner thoughts in my head aloud without being seen as weird

I loved your hugs

It was a hug that let me feel comfortable and seen

I loved your voice

It was a voice that let me see your raw emotions before God

Losing you is heavy