Ripping the bandaid off now. I have a vision of myself; sitting in a tidy and cozy, spice-scented living room here in my home in the forest, sipping tea and my knitting bundled on my ottoman, clattering away on these keys and tapping away on this keyboard.

Reality? I have ADHD and a very busy seven month old son, which means I start a lot of posts in my head, and don’t ever quite find the time to sit my actual butt down and put words to paper, let alone make a cup of tea to set the mood.

I like writing, though. I like reflecting on my day, or week, or past, or future and putting it into words. I like finding patterns and themes in my everyday life, and I think that for the last few months (years?) of actively avoiding any sort of contemplation or introspection has maybe done more harm than good.

“It happened and it sucked and I’m over talking about it” is not going to cut it anymore.

What is the “it” I speak of?

My dad (who was wonderful) was diagnosed at 56 with young-onset Alzheimer’s disease, and I (at 28 and having just been accepted into a graduate program at my university) buckled down with my mom to become full time caregivers.

The next seven years happened and they sucked and I’m over talking about it (for this post at least).

I will say, though, that they were infused with love – a really deep and aching love, and we always actively sought to find joy in the moments we could – and there were a lot more of those than one would expect.

A lot of things have happened since that diagnosis. I have had some astounding losses and failures, some due to myself, some due to the difficulty of being a caregiver and trying to live a functional adult life. I found a great man and got married. We experienced a pandemic. We live on a lake in the woods. After a long, long time of trying, we had a beautiful son together this spring. I have a career to go back to after mat leave.

But it creeps in.

There are certain moments where I’m so angry.

I want to be able to say, “I’m so sad.”, but that’s not the reality of it most of the time. It’s anger.

The other side of the coin is numbness and static. Social media shorts would tell me that’s my ADHD, and maybe it is – but I think what is actually happening (maybe in conjunction with the ADHD) is I have practiced avoiding dealing with my issues enough that it’s a reflex. And when I see that numbness for what it is, it scares me.

I am spending too much time in the “I am going to ____” and not enough time in the “I have done ____”.

Today, I have started my blog.