Random Tuesday Ramblings

It’s Tuesday, which means random ramblings. To read the random thoughts of others and see the master who created the blogging phenomenon, check out the Unmom.

One. Happy Birthday, dear blog, happy birthday to you.

For some reason, I had it in my head that human, being was born in early February 2009. Nope. Last night, I checked and she was born on Jan. 4, 2009.

I remember coming up with the idea of this blog while walking to my car after work. I had shut down another long-term blog and was writing notes on Facebook. I wanted a bigger audience, so I found WordPress and started making a new blog.

I’ve always tended to write a rather open journal/life blog about the condition of being human. I had also just read something about the idea that we are spiritual beings having human experiences, and part of our struggle as humans is to be rather than do.

Since I’m on the path of learning how to just be, I thought I’d title the new blog human (comma) being. As in I’m a human working on being who I am. And that’s how the sausage was made.

I think it takes most bloggers a year or so to really figure out what their blog is about. This blog is about telling my story so that I can inspire, inform, amuse and entertain you. Some of what I write is a cautionary tale. Some of what I write is about getting the poison out of me so I can move on. Some of what I write is about gratitude. And most of it is probably TMI. Oh well. Hi, I’m Lynn, and I’m addicted to telling my story with very little filter.

I’m so grateful for every single person who reads human, being. I’m grateful for my handful of subscribers, and for the people who comment. I’m grateful for the people who send me emails. I’m even grateful for all the weirdos who find this blog by searching for naked kids (because my most successful post is about nudist camps for kids).

I love my blog. I don’t know what I’d do without it. I don’t know who I’d be without it, because it (and you) have become a key part of where I’m going and how I’m growing. Thank you.

Two. I’m being inundated by offers of retreats and classes and journeys.

Lately, I’ve unsubscribed to most of the mommybloggers I used to read because I’m not getting much out of them, and subscribed to a bunch of people who I think will help me along the new trajectory of growth I can feel myself beginning. The trick is that all of them offer retreats and coaching and eBooks and classes and interesting journeys. And, I want to do every single one of them.

Which is part of why I wrote the blog last night about what I need, right now. I feel overwhelmed by gurus.

I’d like to do some of this retreat work. I think it would be a) fun and b) forward-moving and c) inspiring. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like a retreat or class. But how to choose? And how to pay? Dilemmas. Universe? Any help here?

Three. Depression check-in.

I think the combination of counseling and homeopathy and Vitamin D and T3 has really helped my feelings of depression this season. The physical symptoms are still there–lack of motivation is strong, lack of focus is strong, sugar cravings are moderate. But the actual sadness and irritation and seething rage that usually make up the end of January and early February are just hovering along the edges.

What I have felt, though, is anxiety. Crushing, can’t leave the house anxiety. As I’ve felt this, I’ve come to realize that anxiety has always been part of my SAD picture. I didn’t recognize it before. I have no good tools for managing anxiety, separately from the depression, aside from valium, which I have taken to get out of the house on a couple of days. Last Thursday, when I couldn’t go to work, anxiety was my jailer. Yet another layer in the complicated physiology of Lynn to understand.

Four. Salsa partner search.

On Sunday, I went to a party at Motion en Fuego, Brigette Ellis’s studio, that was designated as a partner search. And, once again, I was disappointed. Male salsa dancers in Denver tend to get to the advanced beginner/early intermediate level and stall out. There were a lot of guys there, but only one was interested in performing and none were interested in competing.

So, since I’m working on listening to the universe (as always) and letting go of the HARD to make way for the EASY, I think I’m going to change my Very Personal Ad, which I posted on Havi Brooks’ The Fluent Self blog on Sunday. I do not want to find a salsa partner. I want a salsa partner to find me. I am taking the search off my plate, and asking the universe and all who are in it to bring me someone who wants to practice, perform and compete. (and so it is, amen)

Five. Car conversations.

For most of first and second grade, Lauren hated to talk to me about school. I’d ask her questions, and she’d get more and more obstinate, which led to me trying to force her to talk to me, which led to her literally pinching her lips shut and shaking her head with her fingers in her ears. Nice.

Something happened in third grade. Now, she volunteers information about what she’s learning as soon as she gets in the car. She’s very engaged while discussing what they’re learning about the Gold Rush, and this book called Shiloh she’s reading in her book club. She loves me to quiz her on her times tables and her spelling challenge words. And, she’s even volunteering information about her social life, which before seemed to be the greatest secret on earth.

When you have a baby, for the first many years you know almost everything that happens in her life. When I got divorced, I lost the experience of half of her life–the time she spends with her dad. The 8 o’clock phone call ritual rarely bears much more fruit than a quick goodnight. It’s both great and weird to be getting (finally) this glimpse into my daughter as a real person with real feelings and thoughts and fears and frustrations. Yes, she’s always had those, but at 8 and two-thirds she finally has the intellect and vocabulary to express all of it.

And I’m loving it. Especially the car conversations. They rock.

Six. Girl stuff.

Tomorrow I’m going to upload some old blogs about my struggles with the Fucking Mirena and the Aftermath, which is basically abnormal cycles to the max. I think, like my blog on Vitamin D (my second most popular blog), these tales can help other women who think they are losing their minds, as I did, but rather are just having bad side effects from progestin.

Dear body, please decide. Am I still fertile, or not? Because this 35 days of bleeding, followed by 40+ days (now) of not bleeding, with little hints that you might be letting it flow any day, then not, is on my last nerve.

Yes, 40 and a half is a little early for menopause. I tried progesterone cream and re-entered puberty. I tried Vitex and had cycles like I’m having now without taking anything. I’m grateful that I’m not having hot flashes or night sweats. I’d just really like some regularity, you know? So I know when to wear my $20 fancy panties and when to wear the $2 granny panties. Thanks for listening.