What I’ve Been Up To

Holy crap, I’m tired.

Twice a week I volunteer at DHS. Twice a week I clean stalls at a barn. I landed gratefully into an amazing, daydream of a job – 20 hours a week as a library assistant, surrounded by the sweet scent of books and knowledge. Still, it’s work. I’m kind of amazed how hard of work it is – each shift at the library feels as busy as waitressing on Friday evening at Olive Garden. I come home happy, but exhausted – brain full of Dewey call numbers and random tidbits from patron accounts.

A long winter bled into a too-short spring, and now all of a sudden it’s summer. Summer – that gold-green, too-fleeting time of year in the Pacific Northwest. I should be reveling in it, but instead I feel like I’m living a game of whack-a-mole gone bad.

Clean the house – WHACK. Clean the stalls – WHACK. Clean the files at DHS – WHACK. Clean the shelves at the library – WHACK. I throw food at dogs who long for a walk, food at the too-many-chicks which are now nearly grown, food at the cats, food at the kids, lunches at the husband. WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK.

I dash to the grocery store and eyeball the shelves in frustration. I push aside the thoughts of the of the runs I’m not running, the horse I’m not riding, the books I’m not finishing, the friends I’m not seeing, the corner of the kitchen still unpainted, the husband who works too many hours for his sanity, and focus instead on the cost of chicken quarters vs chicken thighs vs whole chickens. Family of four, gluten-free, snacks for children, low-carb for the adults, quick to cook, and under $600 a month. I can do this. WHACK.

This fancy new blog sits quiet and unused. It’s not for lack of words – it’s just a matter of time. I love writing here – it’s my happy space, but….. but I would really like a little extra money, so any chance I get to sit down with my computer is now spent feverishly working on my story. I really, really, REALLY want to pitch and possibly even sell a book at the upcoming Willamette Writer’s Conference. I don’t know if the Whack-A-Moles of my life are going to let me finish in time, but I’m going to give it all I’ve got until then.

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I wrote that a little over two weeks ago. I realized the whole thing just sounded… I dunno. It wasn’t quite whiny, but it also wasn’t very interesting.

And then today, when I realized I was actually feeling human again, for the first time in ages… I noticed it’s been over six weeks since I last updated.

Six weeks – how can that be?

Well, I know how it can be – I’ll think of a story that I want to write… and then I’ll think, “Oh, gee before I do that I should probably do some kind of an update. I’ve got that update started, so I can just finish up that, and then get back into the story… Wait. Wait, Becky. Think about this: If you’re going to do all that work, you need to type on your book.”

So I work on my book, and the whole scenario repeats itself again the next day, and the next thing you know it’s been over six weeks since I last posted anything.

So. Here is my life in a nutshell:

I’ve quit the barn job – it was fun, but it was too much.

I’ve knocked down a lot of my hours volunteering at DHS – it was also fun, but it was too much.

I go to the barn twice a week, even if it’s only for five minutes.

I’m entirely hopeful I can finish my book before the first week in August… but I’m still trying. We’ll see.

I’m doing great now, but this winter was terrible – honestly, one of the hardest times of my life. I lost Wayne, the gentleman I was taking care of. At the same time I was tailspinning from that, a good friend pointed out (THANK YOU, AMY, YOU LIFESAVER) that maybe I was struggling with side effects from my ADHD medication. That night, as I lay in a fetal position sobbing in the bathtub (again), I realized… oh. Oh, yes. I remember this. This isn’t me. This is depression.

Depression is a tricky thing – I’ve struggled with it in the past, both the normal variety and the medically-induced variety. The medically-induced variety is the easiest to fix.. but it’s also the hardest to pinpoint. I mean, when a pill gives you a headache, it’s a pretty obvious side effect. When life seems pointless, like there’s no point in trying and and who cares anyways, and it’s never gonna get better….

It’s hard to remember that it could be the fault of a pill. Thank HEAVENS I’m lucky enough where it can be fixed by taking away or adding a pill. I know how lucky I am.

Anyways, I quit the meds cold-turkey per my old doctor’s suggestion and began the process of teaching my brain how to produce dopamine (happy feelings) again. It took about six weeks of living with a crazy brain, trying to emulate normal, human interaction before I felt human again. I’m on a different pill now (Yay, Concerta) – slightly less effective, but without the “fat crying woman in a bathtub” side effective. It’s a lovely trade-off, I think.

Dang, this post got dark… it wasn’t supposed to be dark. But, by golly, I’m gonna keep muddling through it. Heck, I may not even proofread before hitting publish, because if I don’t publish this tonight, it’ll probably be another six weeks before I get around to it.

So, I got the library job (HOORAY!), I love it (HOORAY), my days are filled with sunshine and hard work, and good friends, and a gorgeous horse (HOORAY).

I’ve got a story going in my book, and I feel like it’s a good one. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much, because I know how many hoops I need to jump through between writing and getting a check from a publisher…. but I’m not gonna lie, I’m hopeful, and getting a little bit excited about it.

In the meantime… have a few photos of what I’ve been up to over the past few weeks.And yes, this is the most disjointed post I’ve written in awhile… but I made it a goal to finish this post tonight, and I’m trying to learn how to follow through on personal goals even when they’re not perfect.

What have you all been up to?

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Happy Mother’s Day

To my 5’2? Mexican mother,

You may have been the world’s cutest baby.

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Although, when you look at your own mom, it’s not really shocking.

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My abuelita was hotter than your abuelita.

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and wonder… dude. I know we’ve got all these photos of you and me together on the day I was born, but are SURE I came out of your belly?

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19 years old

Like, really, REALLY sure?

You’ve done a lot for me, but deep in my heart I’m still a bit resentful. Couldn’t you have tried a little bit harder to give me your olive skin? I’m pretty sure I’m the most un-Mexican half-Mexican in the world. I know you don’t really get a choice as to what your kid will look like… I’m just saying, you could have tried a little bit harder to pass on your genes. Cuz seriously, woman, you had some great genes to pass along.

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I know you tried to pass on your ability to pose for the camera. That…. that got lost in the translation somewhere. Sorry.

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You also tried to pass on how to be feminine, to do your hair, to never wear underwear with holes in them, to sit like a lady, and to always wash your fruit before you eat it.

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As I sit here eating my unwashed apple with a live baby chicken shoved down my bra (how else should I keep it warm while I’m holding it?) all I can say is: you really tried, and nobody’s blaming you.

Madrisima, you are more beautiful than I think you will ever know, and I love you. And I promise that by the time you guys arrive today, I will have at least changed out of my chicken bra and into something less germ-ridden, just for you. I also promise that every time I bite into a piece of unwashed fruit, no matter how old I am, I will hear your voice going “Re-be-ca! Wash that!”

See? You did your job well.

…..even though was just selfish of you not to give me more of those gorgeous Mexican genes.

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Happy Mother’s Day ?

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