#lanturing

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recent wins,

finally hit my bodyweight deadlift today :)) also:

hit 2k kudos on my beloved delicate (aka how I met almost all of my friends), almost four years to the day since I uploaded the final chapter :) what a wild journey - I will never forget the euphoric, exhausting, intense experience of telling that story.

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This is The dumbest thing in the world probably, but sometimes (almost every day), I feel very sad that I think I've peaked as a writer. It was my stupid little dream of being on the New York Times bestseller list, like other fanfic-authors-turned-NYT-bestsellers, like Ali Hazelwood and Stephanie Meyer and The Hurricane Wars author, Thea Guanzon, and Alison Saft with A Far Wilder Magic (basically young royai.) I feel sad that I shot my shot, told the best story I had in my heart and mind, and didn't achieve critical or commercial success.

I don't know that I'll ever achieve that dream. It's been over a year since I finished A Box Full of Darkness, and I don't have a fully fleshed out story/plot to take to the page. I don't know when or if I ever will again.

It's just a challenge to my identity, because writing became a major part of my life when I was about twelve and continued to be a major part of my life until I was about 31, and it was always with the secret dream of someday being a published author with books in bookstores.

I just need to reframe it to myself, like maybe I was never meant to be a popular author in the "real world" of New York Times bestseller lists. But delicate and Strings were still read and loved by hundreds, and I made friends through them, and maybe that was the real purpose of telling those stories - and of me writing - in the first place. Maybe now that I made those friends and told those meaningful stories, the purpose of my writing has been fulfilled, and that era of my life is over. that makes me really sad but I can focus on what I got out of the experience rather than what I didn't get.

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the bad, (tw for discussion of early miscarriage), and the good,

I had a positive pregnancy test on the night Sunday, January 26. It was my seven year anniversary with David of the night we went on our first date. It was so beautiful and lovely and exciting because I had noticed some subtle changes over that weekend and the test that Sunday night confirmed it. It was extra special after going through an emotionally and physically exhausting round of fertility treatment in January. I was so excited. David and I counted the months out and we expected an October due date. I felt so happy during that time of Saturday - Monday afternoon because I felt like I was going through life with my new little friend inside me, literally sheltering them with my body.

I had an early miscarriage overnight on Monday/Tuesday morning. It was physically and emotionally very painful and devastating. I hadn't felt anything like that pain since my dad died. It was very hard. Yes, it was only five weeks' gestation, only a chemical pregnancy, only a clump of cells, only smaller than a single grain of rice -- but I loved it already and I was so excited to be a mom.

It was a hard week. I still had work and school. I wondered if it was my fault for going on a run on Monday morning, or traveling by plane over that weekend. I reminded myself, and David and my friends reminded me, that early miscarriages are so common, and that it wasn't my fault.

I wish it hadn't happened. I could have happily gone my entire life without experiencing that. But amidst all that bad, there was good. David was there for me during the worst time of my life, again. My friends supported me hard. My cat sat on my lap and purred. It was a terrible and unfortunate thing, but I never felt alone, and I'm grateful for that. I knew from the beginning of it through to now that I was loved.

Fuck January, it was bad. I'm taking February off fertility treatments and I'm going to visit my cousin in Florida. I'm also going to Istanbul at the end of this month, as a reward for finishing my quarter of classes at school as of February 21, and finishing a big work conference I've been planning in that third week of February. I've gone on travels before during significant low periods of my life - Nova Scotia when my dad was sick, Greece after he died - and its always helped.

I had hoped Japan last March would be my last trip before I had a kid, but who knows - I still have time, and I'll travel until that (hopefully) happens.

I am afraid it's going to happen again, but I remind myself that a lot of people experience chemical pregnancies/miscarriages and go on to have healthy pregnancies and deliver healthy babies. We'll try again in March, and hope for a better outcome. Until then, I'm looking forward to spending time with my family and friends and myself, having fun, this February.

I already feel much better this weekend, after going out to brunch with David yesterday, getting to spend time with friends this weekend too. :)

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Interiors of the Sultan Tombs, Istanbul

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good things,

I am grateful that I am able to see my beloved therapist, who was a tremendous help to me for 4 years, again after a 1.5 year hiatus. She isn't taking new clients, but she let me know before I stopped therapy in 2023 that she would be available if I needed further support. During our appointment on Monday, I was reminded how powerful it was to have her always in my corner and helping me work through things, and it helped a lot to talk to her.

I watched a documentary for class about food insecurity in the United States that really affected me - food, cooking, and eating is so important to me and a major source of joy and comfort as I get through life. I signed up to volunteer as a cook for a local nonprofit that provides free community meals. My first shift is tomorrow, and I'm really excited about it.

My therapist recommended that I journal for at least 10-15 minutes every single day for a month. I'm only a few days in, but I already feel like it's helping.

I saw a picture of popcorn shrimp on reddit and then wanted it so bad for days after - I haven't had popcorn shrimp in years. I found a recipe yesterday and made it tonight for dinner. I love being able to easily deep fry things with my wok, and I love the freedom of making whatever I want for dinner.

I've been enjoying finding new music - Jennie (from Blackpink)'s solo work and Chung Ha for kpop, getting into Brazilian funk through Anitta's Funk Generation album, and Kaliii and Enchanting for rap. Workouts have been good lately!

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the purpose of this blog over the past 13 years of my life has been for archival purposes, a safe space to vent, and also, in some part, in the hopes that the things I say may someday be relevant or resonant to someone, somewhere.

Here's the advice that I will give that I wish my reproductive medicine clinic had given me, especially for a person with a history of major depressive disorder:

A side effect of Clomid can be significant mood-related effects.

I started my new treatment cycle on Friday, and by yesterday and today, my mood has taken such a steep downward dive that it's put me back down among the worst episodes of depression I've ever had. Everything feels and looks so bleak. David and I looked it up and yeah - this is a side effect.

It is horrible. Depression is horrible in general and it is just scary how sudden this came on, like a light switching on and off. My antidepressant is doing nothing to touch it. My usual special favorite mood-boosting activities of running and weightlifting aren't doing anything to help.

I have 2 more doses of medication to take in this treatment cycle, and apparently this side effect starts to wear off once I'm not taking the medication, so.

I kind of hate this. Infertility treatment is not easy - physically, mentally, emotionally. It takes such a toll and I still have to show up for work and school and everything else in my life with a smile and a positive attitude, pretending like it doesn't take what feels like a superhuman effort to get basic tasks of being an adult done every day. Pretending like I'm not going through embarrassing medical treatment that impacts my mood in major ways -- I can't tell anyone besides my close friends that I feel angry, unmotivated, and deeply unhappy because of the effects of this because it's so fucking embarrassing and personal and intimate. I'm pretty sick of faking it being happy and positive.

I'm glad that I could at least vent to David today and he was very supportive.

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I've been quietly processing and reflecting all day. There's a lot of grief for the future that the nation could have had, grief and anger for the reality of what the majority of the American people wanted, and worry for the future, on so many different levels.

I wrote yesterday about what it meant for me, as a person, to vote for Kamala Harris, after my experience with racism as a child and teenager. In light of that, the loss feels even more personal and devastating to me than it did when Hillary lost. It's too painful on a deep emotional level to talk about properly.

The one thought I had earlier today that made a lasting impression on me is the importance of art. I went to the gym this morning and listened to Eminem while I worked out. I've listened to his music for the past ~20+ years. It's been there for me during every period of stress and pain and anguish in my life, and in 2022-2023, when I felt crushed by grief and when I felt like I was breaking apart, mind and body.

I listened to this music that means and meant so much to me today and I was so comforted. For an hour, I didn't have grief, fear, anger, or uncertainty, I just had me and the music that I love.

I hope that we can all find comfort when we need it most, in the music, art, writing, video games, podfics, podcasts, visual medias, that we love. I'm grateful to the creators that put their heart and soul, their time and effort and energy, into the art that comforts us during the darkest of times.

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Another year of me and the cat of all time, Westin. ❤️

I love him when he:

constantly gets underfoot in the kitchen while I cook, begging for scraps

walks me downstairs every single morning as he meows for breakfast

comes to sit beside me after his breakfast while I do my morning stretches

sits beside me as I drink my morning tea, in the chair next to me, like a person

cuddles on my lap

gets in the way of my laptop

sees me and David sitting together and then comes over, meowing irritably, to shove David out of the way to sit with me

comes trotting to greet me on his little legs when I get back home from the gym

I've had Westin for five years now and he's now 12. I call him a gremlin and a beast and a "clown ass cat", but he means the world to me and I'm so grateful every day that he's my cat, my BFF, my work from home buddy/intern, and my partner in crime.