This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

And a Really Real Trauma post.

And a Really Real Growth post.

I look back at year after year of “this past year” posts that I have made.

Those where I was struggling to hold on through extreme poverty.

Those where I was homeless,

where I was staying with others,

where I’ve had my own place.

Those where Parker and I were holding on to each other for dear life,

as the world threw everything it could at us.

Those where I broke free from codependency,

where I learned to stand on my own two feet.

where I learned I could do anything.

Those where I learned it was okay to lean on my community around me.

This year all of those lessons were necessary to get me through.

I started off the year working for the first time in longer than I can remember.

I felt accomplished.

I felt like I had overcome so much.

This year I put my feelings and my abuse aside,

I went to care for my dying father.

A father who didn’t really deserve that care.

But I did it for me.

This year I learned that sometimes,

we get punished for a good deed.

My world was shattered with a single gunshot.

But,

I survived.

I’m coming out on the other side.

Slowly.

I learned that I can make really hard decisions.

That I can save my own life.

I learned,

again,

that I have an amazing community around me.

I learned,

again,

that I am loved beyond measure.

This year was hard.

Harder than most.

Covid was only part of it.

The lack of in person socialization.

The struggle to find safe ways to stay connected.

So,

much,

Zoom.

Bonfires.

Flames keeping us warm while we stay 6 foot apart.

I learned that it’s easy to fall back into old habits.

And hard to climb back out of them.

I learned,

again,

that love will get us through.

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

Has it really been almost a week since I’ve written?

The week has flown by, while also dragging along.

There isn’t much, good or bad, happening in my life right now.

It’s hard to figure out what to write about when that happens.

But writing is good for me.

I’m not really depressed anymore.

But, I’m bored.

PHP is over and I’m not working yet and one day just runs into the next.

We leave the house a few times a week just to keep getting out.

I craft.

And craft.

And craft.

And sit around thinking about things to craft.

And scroll facebook,

which I’m trying not to do as often.

I got used to having something to work on around the clock.

Holiday cards and holiday gifts.

All made with love.

They are finished and in the mail.

A few wrapped presents sitting on my desk waiting for a socially distant meet up with local friends for an exhange.

Trying to decide what to make for Wonder Woman.

I want to give her something, but she sees everything I make.

I’m not really sure what to buy her either.

Holidays are hard for me.

I want to give the perfect thing.

I’m afraid the stuff I make just isn’t good enough.

I grew up in a family where we got more, More, MORE every year.

So much,

Stuff.

Not that I didn’t appreciate it.

I had fun playing with everything that was given to me.

But I remember the year that my friend basically hung up on me as I was going through my list of what I got.

She was tired of hearing it.

I was too young to realize not every Santa brought that much.

I had to fight that urge when Kidlet was growing up.

I wanted the presents to overflow under the tree.

But that just wasn’t feasible.

And he didn’t need that much

stuff.

I still remember the Christmas where Toys For Tots was all he got.

I remember the Christmas when everything he got was donated by friends.

I remember the Christmas where everything he got was hand made by my father and I, in my father’s shop.

I remember the Christmas after Parker died, trying to get him the perfect gifts to make up for our loss.

Finding those same gifts years later, still packed in the bags that he brought them home in.

Never used.

Never played with.

Those were hard times.

But we managed to find reasons to smile each year.

We had a good life.

A hard life.

But still a good life.

I’m still sleeping too much.

And I can’t figure out why.

I try so hard to get up in the morning,

sometimes I even succeed.

But I can’t keep my eyes open and end up back in bed.

I’m working on it with my therapist and my pdoc and we haven’t found the reason yet.

I’m working on having another sleep study.

I dream all night, waking up on and off as each dream comes and goes.

Sometimes falling asleep right back where I left off.

I talk in my sleep.

I scream out in my sleep.

I don’t think I’m sleeping deeply enough.

But I’m not sure how to fix that.

Overall,

things are pretty good right now.

Things are pretty good.

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

This is the first time I’ve been on my computer since Thursday.

We’ve used our phones to keep up with the world, and Wonder Woman has kept up with her Animal Crossing chores on the switch, but mostly our phones have been used for streaming music and taking photos as we’ve had a relatively unplugged weekend.

Sitting in the cabin working independently on crafts or reading.

Cozy in a very small space together.

You might think, being enclosed in two tiny rooms, with one comfy chair between us, that we would start tripping over each other.

But it hasn’t happened.

We work so well together.

I enjoy working side by side, but doing our own thing.

Wonder Woman has been working on her loom, learning a new style and quietly listening to podcasts.

I’ve read more than half of a new book written by a friend.

I’ll probably finish it today.

Other than hitting the grocery store for some last minute essentials (and birthday cupcakes) we haven’t left the area of the cabin.

We’ve taken a short walk around the lake, looking for trails that the owner mentioned but not finding any.

Mostly we’ve just been content to sit quietly.

We’ve played a game or two.

We’ve eaten great meals.

I’ve spent more time cooking and doing dishes than I can explain.

But I’ve enjoyed it.

We planned to order food out tonight.

A birthday dinner from a restaurant that came recommended.

But, we found out too late that they’re closed on Sunday.

Most of the town is.

But we’ll eat left over chili, that spent our first night here simmering in a crock pot.

We’ll do a birthday dinner once we’re home again.

We plan to take the long way home.

Doubling the time our trip takes so that we can go across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel.

The water is my happy place and I haven’t been across that expanse of road in many many years.

I didn’t get to a beach for my birthday, the rentals near the water were too expensive, even during the off season,

but I’ll get to spend some time surrounded by water.

A 6 hour road trip to finish off my birthday weekend.

Slow and relaxing with a cute little dog settled on my lap for the drive.

She’s such a good travelling dog.

This weekend has been a great way to reset.

A good time to start figuring out what’s next.

Now that I’m done with PHP and I can’t quite start working again.

Time to figure out what to do with my days, time to decide who 40 year old me is going to be.

This has been a great weekend,

but I’m also looking forward to going home.