Every year I get all fucking anxious and cranky on my mom's birthday (today) because I know we'll have to interact in the coming days/weeks because my birthday is 7 days after hers and she's going to try to make lunch plans for us or something but I suck it up and text her happy birthday anyway and every year she doesn't even text me back.
Last year she called me on my birthday and I didn't answer because I was in a fucking yoga class and she left me a whole minute long voicemail of her crying and saying things like "I don't know what I did to make you want to avoid me so much.... I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday", etc. You know. Turning it all around on me. As abusers do. Because how dare I do what I told her I'd do multiple times when I was a teenager and cut her off from my life for the sake of my own wellbeing? Why didn't I think about her feelings in that decision?
And not to be petty but coming out of a yoga class feeling all zen and good about myself, and sitting in my car checking my phone and hearing my mom crying on a voicemail...... It felt like a win for my teenaged self. Thats the kind of moment that as a teen I hoped I would live long enough to see - I'm grown up, thriving, got my shit together, healthy, unbothered..... And my mom is miserable, alone, unwell, desperate for my attention and still somehow not connecting the dots that everything in her shitty life is a result of her own decisions and actions.
I sent her a happy birthday text about an hour ago. We'll see what she does this year. She's acted so pathetic about me all year, practically begging me to come back into her life (because she's getting divorced again and who will she be able to blame everything on if her husband is gone? Before I moved out I was the scapegoat, the cause of all of her problems. Then it became her husband. Oh dear.... If everyone leaves her she might not have anyone to blame for her misery but.... Herself! I think her brain would short circuit.) and I absolutely refuse to do that so I'm expecting..... Something stupid to happen. We'll see.
I'm not sure who I'm writing this for, but I need to write it somewhere. I guess Tumblr is as good as anywhere.
I just got home from my first Pride, and I'm not sure what all I'm feeling. I only came out to myself a few years ago. It was only last year that I finally got to a point where I had the courage to go, but COVID put an end to that plan.
Pride in my town this year was a drive through event, with people staying in their cars, driving past booths and "floats". While our county has been doing quite well getting vaccinated, for safety's sake, everyone had to remain in their cars, isolated. I ended up going alone. I have straight friends who would have agreed to go with me, but I wanted to be able to be myself and have my own honest reactions, instead of worrying about maintaining an appropriate mask for other people who might not understand. And it's a good think I did, as before I even got to the "parade" section I was crying quietly in my car. We all were lined up in rows in a parking lot, waiting to go through, and a car across from me was practically bursting with rainbow balloons, flags, streamers, and large stickers proclaiming "Proud Rainbow Family" and "We love our queer kid" and "Free Mom and Dad Hugs". Obviously, as we were not allowed to leave our vehicles, there was no hugging happening, but just the sight had me sobbing.
I have not come out to my family yet. While they would likely be supportive, it's more complicated. Growing up, I had two aunties, who lived together. I knew they were both my aunties, although I was only actually related to one of them. I'd heard my family refer to them as "roommates" and "friends" before, and I just didn't think about it. My family didn't ostracize them. They were at every family event and a large part of my childhood, but everyone went to great lengths to avoid acknowledging what I now realize was obvious, they were gay. They both died within months of each other in 2013, and it was only then that I learned that they were married and they had been extremely active in their local queer community. At the time I didn't know I was queer, and the revelation didn't mean much to me.
Now it means everything.
I can't stop wondering, what would've changed if my family hadn't felt the need to hide who my aunts were? Would I have realized who I was sooner? Would it have been a happy revelation, instead of the panic and turmoil I felt when I realized? Would my aunts have welcomed me into their community? Would I not feel so alone and isolated as I do now? I can't come out to my family without having this conversation, without pouring out all the hurt and anger I have towards them for the opportunity they denied me.
All of this bubbled to the surface sitting alone in my car, waiting to drive through my first Pride. Once it was time to go through I pulled myself together. I have so much gratitude for the people standing out there for hours in the June sun in a baking parking lot. They were lovely, and for all of fifteen minutes I had fun. But now I'm back home, alone again, wondering what it would've been like to have been there with a car full of my family, with my aunts, with friends.
So, that's the story of my first Pride. I hope next year will be a little less bittersweet.
All evidence to the contrary, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. 2020 has been rather shitty to the DKNC household--a refrain certainly not limited to me and mine, but shared around the world.
My family has had a bit of turmoil, but we seem to be at least starting to come out on the other side. Physically, we are all healthy, and that’s a blessing. Mentally and emotionally, several of us have taken a bit of a beating, but we are very much sticking together and supporting each other (even if the enforced continual closeness during the height of the quarantine sometimes led to a desire for a bit less closeness, LOL!), and that is another blessing.
My children, of course, are no longer children. Their lives are their own and their struggles are adult struggles so I don’t feel comfortable posting their business on a public on-line forum. Suffice it to say that a good amount of my energy this year has been given to attempting to help several young adults (not only my own kids) navigate such things as educational upheavals, career changes, job losses, break-ups, depression, anxiety, and multiple very specific life situations I can’t even find a way to discuss generically. I will specifically and happily announce that this time next year, I will gain my first daughter as Son #1 and his longtime lady love (they are in their mid twenties and have been dating since the summer before junior year in high school minus 2 breakups of 4 and 9 month durations over the years) are officially engaged. They have a beautiful relationship, have grown up both together and individually, and learned a lot about themselves, each other, and life in their journey. Mr. DKNC feel blessed to to have gradually moved to the role of supporting players in their life story as they write their future together. I’ll be getting on my first plane since Covid-19 arrived in America 2 weeks from now to go visit them in the state where they now live for my son’s b-day. Mr. DKNC is going with me, of course, but as he flies planes for a living, this is very much NOT his first flight in the Covid era.
My younger sons are finding their paths. Changing some things, recommitting to others. They are still with us although at least one is chomping at the bit to get out, and I understand entirely. I was the same in my early twenties. Loved my parents dearly, but it was time to enjoy them in somewhat smaller doses. :-)
As I work in the medical field, my job has continued to occupy great amounts of my physical energy and even more of my mental and emotional energy than before as Covid has affected pretty much EVERYTHING I touch professionally in large ways or small.
And like everyone else in this country (the U.S.) I cannot ignore the heinous political climate in our nation, in my state (Kentucky) or even the little town closest to where I live or the nearest city to us. Some things, I cannot in good conscious ignore--and I feel compelled to speak truth. As my little family is definitely a little blue dot in a red place, this has created conflicts with extended family members, neighbors, and friends. These are people I care about. I don’t want to cut them out of my life, and I know they aren’t horrible people but they have fallen in line with what I consider some pretty horrible opinions and world views, and it just makes everything harder. I am a “live and let live” girl on most things in life, but there are some lines I cannot cross. So, yeah. This has been another source of exhaustion.
In two weeks when I go see my son, I will take the first full week off work I’ve taken since June of 2019 as all my travel plans in early 2020 were canceled and as long as I was home and things at my medical practice were in a constant state of flux on both the health care and business side, I just worked.
Over the past month, I’ve said no to more things. I’ve tried to say yes to taking better care of myself, and part of that has been opening my fic tabs--first just to look at them, and more recently to write again.
I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed y’all. I don’t know how much time I’ll have to write now, but I intend to take some at least. I don’t know how long I’ll feel inspired to write as all motivation for anything had been just sucked right out of my soul throughout the greater part of this year. But I right now, I really, really wanna write so I’m just gonna jump back on the ride and see how it goes.
If I can get real for a second, Annie’s meltdown to Troy and Abed in s3e7 is incredibly important to me.
“I was worried that I wouldn’t fit in here or be able to hang with you guys. But you know what? Why don’t you ever ask yourselves whether you can hang with me? Why am I always the one who has to adapt?”
I’ve felt this on *so* many levels. The strongest was during my first rewatch this winter when I was participating in indoor drumline. Every other member had a far more crass sense of humor than I did, a lot of them used various substances, sexual humor and references never ended. As a then 17 year old who’s never been in that kind of environment, it was understandably overwhelming! Especially because whenever I tried to speak about it to a tech or someone older than me, they would just tell me to get used to it. I had to adapt. I fretted over not fitting in and not belonging with the group for most of the season. There is a happy ending because I found a few people to keep close that cared about me and that I could have fun with, but I was friends with those people because they asked themselves if they could hang with me instead of vice versa. There’s countless other times in my life where this quote has been applicable, but this situation is the one most directly so. With every new environment that I’m put in, I ask myself if I can hang with the people there. I’m the one who has to adapt. But I’m learning, like Annie, that sometimes, people should ask if they can hang with me.
(Warning it’s personal and not fitness related) Here’s just a little snapshot of what I’ve been up to in my downtime recently. Not gonna lie, I’m really taking a liking to this little pause in life. In the meantime, I’ve been planting seeds and have been doing research on container gardening, I’ve been letting things be “not normal” and cooking/baking with what I have. I even experimented with oat flour waffles and have been CRAVING potatoes(???). I’ve been in the kitchen messing around with orange smoothies and banana ice cream. My hippie girl is really starting to show. I went two full weeks with an empty fridge so I finally made it out to stock up on fresh fruits and vegetables and I tell you what!!!! I’m never taking access to those precious items for granted ever again!!! I also turned my whole dining room into an art studio and have been up all hours of the night painting to music and creating (which I will not picture). But the problem is I need new brushes and more paints 🤷♀️ I turned my whole place over and started deep cleaning like Monica off Friends and I’m thinking of repainting my walls. No shame in my quarantine game - just maintaining my sanity outside of work until the rug gets put back under me (if ever). I’ve also been taking the time to sit down and art journal for my control seeking brain. All in all, I like this little turn inwards I’m experiencing. It’s giving me perspective, gratitude in uncertain times and progress in areas of my life I didn’t previously think to look. It helps that I’ve taken the pressure off myself to “keep up” and just let things simply flow right now. I’m feeling grateful to retreat to my own little world amidst the chaos.... (mostly) at work or going anywhere or even planning and postponing my big trips I was supposed to take. I don’t know how the rest of the year will unfold for me. I had so much planned. I guess that’s just the way the cookie crumbles and we have to keep adapting. I think soon I’ll be back to running regularly but for now, my body likes the break during such a stressful time. I’m practicing not carrying that stress in my body as I tend to do and instead allowing myself grace and using what I have to cultivate little things that give me something to look forward to. Anyways. I know sometimes it feels like an overwhelming burden, but, it’s nice to be alive and healthy. This time is messy and I can’t do everything but I can do my part and show up for myself and others and the people I care about and take care of myself until, you know, I can’t (or something)(because life is fragile, as we are all seeing). Best of luck to everyone. I hope you all find something to look forward to and create something good in the meantime (or don’t, and just chill). But I hope you all the best sanity (or not, go crazy, go berserk). Whatever it is, I hope you the best of whatever you need now.
I don’t really know where to start with this still. I’m not even sure if I’m going to post it. But I want to get it all down before Spring Training really starts. Feel free to ignore
CW- death - Parent death
On January 19th 2020 my mother died. She had her annual physical on October 17th and was declared perfectly healthy. 3 months later she was gone. Prion disease. It’s fucking horrible. Since this has become my baseball blog I’m gonna talk about my mom and baseball. I’m a person who needs to get everything out, so here goes.
We are a baseball family. My dad played baseball. My older brother played baseball. I play baseball. My mom wanted to play baseball when she was a kid but she was told no- only boys. Her story isn’t one of fighting against that injustice- she just moved on. But she always liked the game- and she always encouraged me to play.
She went to almost all of our games. She was the scorekeeper for my brothers teams and mine. I was 7 when I made a competitive travel team. She couldn’t be a coach so she became our manager- booking hotels, organizing rides, filling water bottles and so much more, year after year as I kept playing and making the teams.
I got invited to a baseball camp run by a retired scout for the Mets when I was 9. My mom, who hadn’t fought the system for her own chance to play, made sure I was allowed to go to the camp when others protested a girl shouldn’t be allowed. I was the only girl at the camp- just 9 year old me and 200 boys ages 8-16. My dad and brother helped me but it was my mom who gave me the courage to go everyday- to deal with the teasing and bullying. a few years later there were several girls going and all the coaches had made it clear any bullshit directed at us would not be tolerated. It all started because my mom fought for my right- and the right of all girls -to be there.
She was my biggest fan, my biggest cheerleader. She celebrated my victories and picked me up when I failed. When I realized later, as an adult, how much my mom had put into my baseball I thanked her- for all the money, all the time, all the extra stuff. She just smiled and shook her head at me, told me I didn’t need to thank her. I am so thankful I did though.
I can still see her in my mind- sitting behind home plate in the lawn chair she brought from home, the scoresheet in her lap, flip flops on her feet, cheering for us all, a huge smile on her face. I can’t think about it without crying and I’m sure it’ll be that way for a while- but it makes me happy too. I am so profoundly grateful for the time I got with her- for the fact that she was my mom.
This past September when we went to Chicago together- and we couldn’t go to Chicago without going to Wrigley. One last baseball day in the sun. We ate ice cream out of those little helmet bowls and we laughed and cheered and just like always my mom got most of the baseball lingo right- but not quite all of it. It was the best. When the disease was stealing her from us and she was only aware some of the time I referenced Chicago and Wrigley- she reached out for me and hugged me so tight and just kept whispering in my ear- “oh honey it was the best. Just the best time.” And it was. Because it was time with her. And she was the best.
In the early hours unbeknownst to the rising dawn, I sit. In my car or on a bench at the park or overlooking the hills. Somewhere I can see the stars.
From my perch, I weep. I tear myself down and build myself up over and over again, too swept up in my head for it to even seem real. Much too similar to a lucid nightmare.
At the same time, I am filled with a great comfort in the vast space where I can exhale into the galaxy above and take in air, saturated with comfort and promise instead of deceit and lies. I can breathe.
I find solace in music, and a lot of it. Catchy beats that sweep me away on a ride of relaxation and mind numbing blankness. But then, there they are.
Coming to me so smoothly like Angels, heaven sent just for me at the right time, before I take it all away for myself. When I am weak.
It is more than music. It is promise and so much unspoken support all wrapped in a beautiful lullaby for each and every person they call to. The good sirens. Luring their fans to life as opposed to death. I think about these things often in those dark, quiet hours.
There is a reason BTS is my ultimate group. I can't even tell my Therapist coherently through my tears how much I owe them for my purposeless life. They make me want to be a better person.
And when I go my own way and they've let go of me to let me stand on my own two feet I can feel the warmth of fourteen palms radiating behind my back at the ready in case I fall.
Sometimes it takes a while for it to happen and sometimes the pride of such a long stint of success makes me feel like I don't need them anymore but am still happy to have them. I will always be grateful.
Then there are times, like now, where I am lost in the totality of the rising wave towering over my head and threatening to drown me as it thunders back down.
Suddenly, they are there. I am no longer drowning or wet or cold or lost at sea. I am surrounded by warm sunshine and calm moonlight all at once and seven voices reach into my soul and hold it so gently as if theyre afraid it might break.
This is why I love BTS. Why I do not just love them. Why I feel that I owe them my life and every success I have from here to the end will be theirs for the taking. They're the reason why i fight. They have the best of me. They saved me. They gave me back my fire. If my flame begins to wane, they're there fo stoke it back to life over and over again.
