I think it is common, or rather, I have seen this pattern emerge within my circle of friends.  The nature of a long-distance friendship changes and hinges predominantly on long phone calls to catch up.  These calls are exhausting and rejuvenating at the same time in that they allow you to hear about all of the news that has transpired while allowing you to reconnect with people you care about.  It isn’t that we don’t think of them more often than the times we pick up the phone to call, it is that we know that short conversations are not part of our repertoire.  And so we rethink dialing, and conclude I’ll give her a call when I have time to catch up properly.

By the time you realize it has been way too long, months have gone by and you feel that the longing to reconnect has grown so loud that it cannot be ignored.  It is at this point that you pick up the phone and confess how much you have missed them, apologize for the delay in contact, and pick right up where you left off.

This is precisely where I am at this moment.

It has been way too long since I sat down to write.  Each time I tried to compose a post, I found myself overwhelmed by the amount of explaining I had to do.  It seems that so much time has passed that I am not even sure where to start.  So I suppose I will start with a warm Hello and I have missed you.

Spring semester finished with a bang and too soon after, summer term consumed my existence.  Five weeks of hell – of my own creation I might add, nobody forced me to go back to school – followed in which essays were due every 3 days (regardless of whether it was a weekday or not) and hundreds of pages had to be read for those essays.  It was chaotic, sloppy, and miserable… but I finished.  The amount of sitting that was required for reading/writing drove me mad and so after the final paper was submitted, I closed the laptop, closed the door to the office, and did not return to it until today.  Two weeks later, I feel that my brain has healed and that I’m ready to move on.

So what is next you may ask?  Well a lot.  But I’ll update you on that bit by bit.  Now begins the process of putting together a list of schools I want to apply to, as well as getting my applications together (and all that this will entail).  Still no major developments on the baby front – but I’ll update you on the most recent details of that later.  As for right now, I have some catching up to do.  I have to catch up on your lives, reconnect with friends, and enjoy life one day at a time.

I have missed you.

TMI Time: Just in case you’re wondering…

I know they say “be careful what you ask for,” but I knew exactly what to expect.  After all, painful periods and I are not strangers.  I am relieved (is that even the right word? I wonder if that is one of the last times I’ll feel that way…) that my period finally arrived.  I really am.  But just to give you an idea of how I’m feeling: imagine over 5 months worth of back up/pain/flow/hormonal wackiness hitting you all at once.  Yup – that is where I’m at right now.  I should not be allowed to go into public.  Let’s just say I will not be serving as a contributing person of society until further notice.

I wonder how long this will last.  Before going on the pill years ago, I would go months without a period and then when I did finally get it, it would stick around for 3 weeks (yes, you read that right. THREE.  WEEKS.)  Is it too much to hope that my body will be more merciful now?  I suspect it is wishful thinking.  Ah well.

So just in case you are wondering where I will be over the next few days, just know that I’ll be in a similar position to this one with a heating pad to my stomach while mentally cursing men for having it so easy.

TMI Time: A letter to my body

Dear body,

I think it is about time that we had ourselves a talk.  I’m not quite sure what is going on, but I feel it is important to get some things off of my chest.

Ever since January, you have been acting strangely and quite frankly, I’d like to know what the hell is going on.  I know that I threw you a curve ball by going off of the pill, and I suspect that this may or may not be your way of acting out.    If it is, you and I are going to have a knock-down-drag-out fight.  However, if it isn’t, then I apologize for the tone of this letter.

If my suspicions are correct, your actions these past several months are meant to be purposefully hurtful.  Are you trying to tell me that this is a catastrophic idea?  Are you trying to punish me for pursuing this option?  I knew you were cruel and manipulative, but this is low – even for you.

My last cycle was in January at which point the doctor told us we could go off the pill under two stipulations.  First, I needed to begin taking a prenatal vitamin.  Second, I needed to wait one cycle before we could actually start trying and that means using condoms again.  This wouldn’t have been a big deal, except I thought this was going to be for a month.  Body?  THAT WAS BACK IN JANUARY!

In addition to robbing me of my fun, you have insisted on making me feel miserable.  I feel fat, bloated, and uncomfortable all of the time.  The last two months have felt like it is the week before my period, but it never comes.  My boobs hurt and I am constantly tired.  As if this weren’t bad enough, every time that I look in the mirror, I feel like I look puffy and exhausted.  I’m at my wits end.  What else do you want from me?

I understand that you like to plan my period’s visits to coincide with the lunar cycle.  As stupid as I think that is, I have always been respectful of your pace.  Tomorrow is a full moon – don’t think I didn’t notice.  If you fail me again this month, you will be forcing my hand.  I will have to call the doctor… and you know what that may mean.  It might even mean that your acting out has all been an indication that the endometriosis that plagues us both is causing further damage.

I hope this is all mute point.  I hope I am wrong and that this letter was hasty.  I’m doing everything I can to treat you properly.  Is it too much to ask for the same in return?

I beg for your cooperation, dear body.  We don’t have much time to make a go of this.  I’ll give you better warning with all large decisions next time.  Please, please be cooperative and merciful in the meantime.  Give me a chance to help and I will give you the benefit of the doubt.

Yours pitifully,

~Hasta claridad…

Still invisible, so why bother?


Photo Source: Foxxyz on Flickr

I thought a blog facelift would help drive away the funk.  So far?  Doesn’t seem to be working.  I keep sitting down to write and after a few sentences, I exit out of the window with a sigh and a soft “fuck it.”  I conclude that I have nothing to say.  Instead, I settle for turning on the TV and zoning out for a bit.

Who would read this shit?  Who gives a damn?  My own friends can’t be bothered to pull their heads out of their asses long enough to realize I haven’t bothered calling in weeks.  Oh, that’s right.  It’s my job to chase after them – not vice versa.

Then there’s this aspect of it: when I do sit down to write, it means I have to think about all of it – I have to dwell on the problems.  It is so much easier to ignore it and push on.  Throw myself into my textbooks.  Allow myself to be absorbed in mindless movies.

The truth is I don’t know where I belong right now, both in life and in blogging.  I feel lost and stuck in this maze.  I’m not a young early 20’s gal blogging about the drunken debauchery and social drama in my life.  I’m not a mother consumed by child rearing and juggling a career.  I’m waltzing around in no-man’s land with a blindfold on trying to avoid stray bullets.

I feel as if I have nothing to offer.  I can’t give you fashion tips or detail my Friday night craziness out on the town with the girls.  I can’t talk about breastfeeding or postpartum depression with you.  I’m not in a shitty relationship.

And so, I shut up.  Because truly, what can I offer?  What do I have to say?  I feel like I’m invisible.

The fog around me

Photo Source: Acid Zebra on Flikr

It is easier to not write than to examine the storm within.  I keep trying to listen to myself, but all I hear is static noise.

Where am I?  What is happening?  Where did everybody go?

It is a foggy mess inside and I do not have the energy to push through.  I have tried using a flashlight to help with the visibility but the beams just reflect back more fog – more nothing.

I sit and stare out the window, the trance quieting the noise within.  Twenty minutes go by.  The dog nudges her damp nose under my hand.  And so we walk – robotically placing one foot in front of the other.  We find the end of the trail again; it is time to go back.  The sun is setting and the noise of the evening critters is deafening, but at least it drowns out the never-ending internal inquisition.

Where have I been?  Why have I left you?  The one place I can come to and explain myself.  But explaining requires examining.  And examining requires clarity – of which I have none.  I do not know where to start.  When I try, it all seems trivial.

Old scars have been irritated.  Perceived disrespect and slights lurk around every corner.  I see attacks in every action.  Doubt consumes me.  Rage blinds me.  Pain silences me.

This all-consuming funk must end.

But how?

I have missed you friends.  I’m coming back.  I’m trying to.  I have to claw out of this.  Forgive me for my absence.

I wanted to smile, but I was not alone

I tried to organize my thoughts

I tried to compose this chronologically

But it’s too much to explain

It is too much to write

I want to tell you about this weekend

To tell you about every emotion

Every thought that led me to here


I boarded a plan back to Ohio

Eager to celebrate the beginning of a life

A baby shower for a close friend

I pushed away the old feelings

The unhappiness that accompanied me

I kept my feelings in check


Don’t focus on where you are

Focus on why you are here

It’s not about you, fool


I closed the box as best I could

Shut away the force behind my heart

I can stand it, I thought

Stop being so negative


Two o’clock marked the beginning

Hoards of women arrived with smiles

Hugs, pleasantries, and inquiries exchanged

The chatter filled the church’s rec room

A buzz of giggles and gossip

Obliterated the prayerful quiet corners


I looked around the room

Searching for the origin of my annoyance

Was it these women?

Was it that I knew better?

That they didn’t really care about her?

Where were you on her wedding day?

I’ve never heard of you people before

No, it was not that

I noticed it in the corner looking at me


We sat and played games

Those awful and inane wastes of time

She opened her mountain of gifts

Glowing radiant from her happiness

Clothes and toys for the little boy

Displayed proudly to the room

Another offering to the new life that will

Fill the hearts of all who see him


I found myself tearing up from looking at her

As I wiped away the dew on my face

I caught another glimpse of it

Still sitting there in the corner

Starring intently at me

Through me




I made small talk to distract myself

Faking interest in those around me

I couldn’t ignore it now

I was aware that I had company


When there was nothing left to say

And yet so many gifts to be opened

I turned to the corner to check if it was still there

Peering back at me was the ugly monster


She sat there staring with cold eyes

She was in my head

I began to form a thought

You know why

The hairs on my arms jumped straight up

You can’t ignore me forever

My neck snapped forward to focus

On the festivities unfolding before me

I could feel her moving closer to me

Admit it

I forced out an “awww” in unison with the room

Hoping desperately that she would go away

Won’t work, you know I’m here

I stood up and excused myself to the restroom


Sweat and a pale face met me in the mirror

The church’s rec room now felt like an inferno

Like an interrogation room

Like an exhibit of things I may never have

I bent down to splash water on my face


Admit it you fraud

Admit that I’m here with you

I shut my eyes tightly as I toweled off my face

You’re pathetic

I glanced once more in the mirror

She was there starring back at me

The jealous bitch

The selfish friend

A monster that coveted what she may never have

I felt her plunge another knife into my side

She tightened her grip on my throat

No matter how hard I tried, she wouldn’t let me go


All I wanted was to forget for one day

To bask in the happiness of my dearest friend

To celebrate my soon to be godson

I didn’t want to think about it

But she had different plans…

Age is Just a Number (or so I thought)

I stop listening the moment she says it – I always do.  I’ve come to expect these slights; so predictable, so offensive.  I wonder if she feels better once it has been done.  Congratulations, I think, once again you have managed to work my age into a conversation.

Does she do it to feel better about herself?  Does she feel she must remind me of the years between us?  Frankly, I’d like to forget.

It has never been an issue for me.  I have never made disparaging remarks to her about her age.  I wouldn’t bring up a pop culture reference just to see if she understood it – and if she didn’t then say “Oh that’s right, I forget how old you are!”  I don’t do it because I don’t care.  Do you hear me?  I do not care!

I believe that she is embarrassed by our friendship.  She must feel poorly that she enjoys the company of someone who is seven years her junior.  Though I don’t think she has stopped to consider what she is truly upset about…

Have you ever considered that maybe you are upset because your friends abandoned you?  Are you upset that they began families and stopped calling you?  Or are you upset that I understand you and love you implicitly – broken pieces and all?

Well today, I reached my limit.  I snapped.

She called to tell me that she was having a rotten day.  I consoled her and played my part as the comedian/cheerleader.  Within 20 minutes she was laughing and joking back.  We were on a roll making playful remarks about this and that until she interrupted the conversation.  She asked if I had heard that “Band X” (I don’t remember what band she was referring to) was coming to town next month and if I already bought tickets.  “Who?” I asked.

OH.  MY.  GOD.  That’s right!  I forget that you’re such a baby!  You probably weren’t even born when they were big!

I inhaled a short breath.

My mouth snapped shut.

Enough of this condescending bull shit.  I unleashed my frustration…

Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that I didn’t grow up here?  That I didn’t grow up obsessed with 80’s culture in the U.S.?  Or maybe I just don’t give a shit about obscure 80’s bands?  You know what??  I’m fucking tired of you managing your insecurities about your own age by attacking mine.  I love you even if you don’t know the bands I like or the shows I grew up watching!!  I am so tired of you smearing this shit in my face.  I am tired of it.  If you want me as a friend, I’m here.  But not at the expense of you putting me down to save face.  Make up your damn mind.

I hung up the phone and threw it on the bed.

Hours later, I am still upset…


I just…

I just don’t understand.