A Bee In My Bonnet and Other Obsessions

I finally told D - who I can now introduce as Devon! - about this blog. As I told Devon, this was never meant to be a secret, just a channel to get all my baby-making thoughts out there without pressuring her. The last thing I wanted for my wife, especially when we were on a baby-talking hiatus, was for her to start up a computer every day and read about how her partner really really really wanted a baby. I didn't think that was fair. Nor was keeping it a secret though, so I can imagine it wasn't easy to hear about - and will probably be hard to read - but she was really supportive, in her usual really supportive way, and I'm just thrilled that she can now be a part of all this.

She left to go away on business the morning after we spoke, but I'm looking forward to showing her the blog and what amazing people there are out in this tight little community of bloggers. It didn't feel nice keeping this from her - as noble as (I thought) my intentions were - so I feel a lot lighter and less like I'm hiding something. Ideally, I would love this to be a collaborative space, though for now, there will be no "us" in crazy. Besides, she's completely sane. So.... please welcome Devon to this little world here. She's awesome. You'll like her. I promise.

And no, we have not made any decisions about having babies yet. And that's okay for the immediate time being.

Waaaaay back on Monday, I was saying that I needed to be busier and that I was looking forward to going back to work for some structure after two weeks off. I suppose I put it out to the Universe a little too strongly, as the first four days back at work has been absolutely crazy. Medium ground? Never with me....

After one botched attempt, I am trying to lower my anti-anxieties again, and started on a lower dose last night. In the past, there has been trouble falling asleep, which sucks, but as I'm learning, what sucks more is waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to fall back asleep. I went to bed really late last night and was up god-know-when in the morning (I try not to look at the clock because that stresses me out more).

What I do remember was one of my dreams as I was waking up in the middle of the night. The meaning of my dreams is rarely subtle, which is probably a combination of my over-active mind and my anti-depressants (head meds usually make dreams extremely vivid). I was running around and around in circles, in some third-world country, with this huge bonnet on my head that reminded me of the outdated school uniforms from Brisbane, Australia. There was no sound in the dream, just running, running, running. From what? The millions of bees in my bonnet. Yes, as I said, I never have to dig too deep to understand my subconscious.

But for you, I'll spell it out:

bee in one's bonnet 

- a single idea or a thought that remains in one's mind; an obsession.

"A metaphor comparing the incessant cerebral buzzing of a personal obsession with that of an alarming or too-close-for-comfort bee in one’s headgear."

Hmmm... wonder what that's about.

(No children were harmed in the posting of this blog - just a cute little random baby picture from the world wide web: here)

I Have a Uterus Too, Boss.

This may make me a bad lesbian, but I am often very forgiving of people who say stupid, ignorant things that should maybe hurt me as a member of the lesbian race - especially when I know it is not consciously meant as an attack. I guess I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and sometimes that comes with a punch in the gut and/or uterus on my end.

Today wasn't that bad in the scheme of things, but my buttons certainly got pushed.

I'm currently covering a mat leave for my job, the "incumbent" comes back this summer (I still find that to be the weirdest word for mom/dad that goes away from work for a while to look after a child... or anyone else who is taking a break from work for whatever reason, but I digress). In this blessed Canadian country of mine, a maternity leave is 12 months, and although there is almost a half year left in my contract, I'm the kind of person that needs a plan. That may not come as a surprise to anyone who reads my blog ;-)

I was going to approach Boss this week to basically let her know that I have to start thinking about setting something up for after my contract, but Boss beat me to it. She came into my office today to tell me that she's proposing a new position to upper management for me, but whether or not it is approved totally depends on the budget, which is hurting right now. Boss can't promise me anything, but it was a good conversation to have regardless - gave me a little hope that I could stay there, as I really like the work I do.

So the conversation with Boss continued and we talked through what it may look like when Incumbent comes back. Boss turns to me and says something along the lines of, "Yeah, and if (when) Incumbent goes on maternity leave again, you'll be here and up to speed and we won't have to worry about having an empty role for long."

And maybe I shouldn't have read into things or let something so small get to me, but I was sitting across the desk from her, just thinking, "and why the fuck would you think that I wouldn't have to go on mat leave one day too? Just because I don't have a cock in my house - literally AND figuratively - doesn't mean that I'm going to give up my right as a woman to be a mom. And fuck you for thinking I could be the 'replacement' constant because (of course!) there is no way in hell I could have a family with my wife. Fuck you, Boss: Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I don't have a working uterus and some dreams that go with it."

Jeez. 

And I'm not even PMSing. 

                               [photo credit]

Night vs. Light: The Eternal Battle

Today is the last day of my staycation. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to going back to work - at the very least, for distraction.

It is dark. Depression is seeping in - not in the doses that have come crashing down on me from the past - but my mood has definitely dropped, I have been feeling really bad about myself (disgusted, even), and I'm in a little bit of denial, because I can't get depressed. I'm too tired to be depressed. I'm hoping getting thrown into a busy work schedule again will work against these stretched out, lonely hours. But it can go either way: It can be a great distraction, or it can just be an added thing that I can't handle. I'm hoping for the former. It has to be the former.

D and I have had a bit of a crappy week and have fallen back into a place where we don't like how we treat each other. Part of it has to do with just not keeping up with the great stuff we've learned from our months in therapy, and we both admit part of it has come from last week's baby talk, which was hard on both of us. We had a sort of come-to-Jesus meeting last night, and sorted some stuff out, and we're both feeling a lot better about things. We're back on track.

Although this week is really busy for D, and she's taking off to the States for work on Thursday for a couple of days, she told me last night that she hasn't forgotten that she owes me a conversation, which is coming... still coming...

When the time comes for said conversation, she has asked me to be completely objective. She has asked me to listen only, and to try not to react. She has asked me to listen as I would if I was her best friend, with no investment in the outcome of the conversation. Which I will do... I need to do... I just don't know how in the world I'll be able to yet. If I need to go stone cold and disassociate for a while, I will. If that's what it takes to get an answer, I will.

When we were away this weekend, just chatting about life in general, she said that if (with a huge emphasis on "if") we were to have children, she would want to hyphenate our last names - something we didn't do when we got married, for whatever reason.

So, there is hope. And, considering there is a lot of darkness right now too, I will take in that hope - I need to. While I was on a chairlift this weekend, I came up over a cliff on the mountain and the sun pounded on my face, and I welcomed the much needed light. I even took a picture of it to remind me that there is a light ahead - even if it looks like there is darkness all around it - there is always light.

Thank You

I just want to write a quick post to thank those who have chimed in with support and advice over the past few days - I feel very lucky. I chose to post instead of replying to comments because I wanted to make sure people saw this.

As for the advice to go into therapy, I think it's a great idea. We were seeing one for the latter half of last year but stopped because things were going so incredibly well. She's excellent, and a lesbian mother herself, so I assume she knows what this all entails. She already knows many of our (past?) issues, and I think it's best to use her to deal with this in the fairest way possible - for both parties.

We call it Thousand Dollar Therapy because of the cost... but some things are definitely worth the money.

There are Two Sides to this Story

It's really tough reading over my posts about D and her words and actions without feeling a little bit of guilt. I know this is *my* blog and thus my side of things, but I never want to vilify D... all of the feelings she has around having a family are more than valid - and the fact that we are not on the same page is just a fact: we are not on the same page. It's nobody's "fault".

We talked a bit last night, coming out of the conversation yesterday morning about her dream. Neither of us were in any state to spend the entire night talking. I was sleep-deprived and she had a long day at work, and from experience, if we're not in the right head-space to talk, it never goes well.

D is extremely upset about what happened the other night, and she wanted to explain her reaction (which her dream helped her realize, somehow). Every six months or so, she has a little bit of a (almost) mid-life crisis with regards to work. Ten years ago, she started in the industry that she works in now, knowing that it was temporary and not a "forever" choice. But here she is, ten years later. She has often tossed around going back to school, which never turns into anything, but over the last few months, for the first time in 14 years, she's been incredible serious about it, and has become increasingly excited about the possibility. This time is different; this time it feels real. And I would love nothing else for her to go back to school so that she can start doing something she's passionate about.

It's also one of the first times she's been able to put herself first in this relationship. There is a long history of her sacrificing things so that I get what I want/need, and over the last six months, as we've been working on our relationship, it has evened out significantly.

I want her to go back to school. I don't want to take that away from her. I totally support the idea, and if this is something she wants to do, I will do everything I can to make that happen.

However, she doesn't think starting a family and going back to school is possible. She doesn't think that buying a townhouse in this expensive city of ours and starting a family is conducive. She doesn't want to be an "old" mom, and this is where - and the only place - that our age difference matters: I am eight years younger, and at the perfect age to be a mom (I think), but she is pushing 40, and I know it's tough for her to imagine her later life as a mom. Bottom line: She doesn't think that she'll be able to (finally) do the things that she wants to do if we have a baby.

And I need to respect that.

But, deep down inside, I know we can make everything happen: school, home, baby. Or maybe I've just got my head in the clouds and am being forcefully optimistic about being able to do all of this.

I don't want her to have to give up her dreams. But I don't want to give up my dreams either...

[Final note: If anyone has any experience with schooling at the same time as being a new mom, I'd love to hear from you about how you balance it - emotionally, financially, etc. Also, any moms who have dived into the role of motherhood "later" in life - whatever that means to you - I'd love to hear how you've found the experience.]

So, we talked last night

I don't even know what to say.

Apparently nor did she.

Perhaps I was too optimistic. Perhaps my expectations were too high.

Me: "So, I've held up my end of the deal and haven't brought up any talk about having a family for over three months, and now I really need to know where you're at."

D: "In all honesty, I haven't really thought too much about it."

(Really?!)

Me: "Oh."

Long silence.

Then some talk about lives ending after children, financial stuff, moving homes, specifics... until finally I said:

"Take away everything - don't think about the details - just tell me: Do you want to be a mum?"

D: "I don't know."

Longer silence.

I was strong and objective and I tried to make it easy for us to talk about this (as it hasn't been easy in the past), but my voice broke and I lost it when I told her that I need an answer from her because I can't continue to be in this limbo, and I need to know if this is something I have to let go of... she owes me that.

So, we left it that she would talk with me sometime this week and have an answer.

I slept for about two hours last night, woke up crying. She woke up with her alarm, and on her way out the door, said she'd had a "dream that put everything into perspective" and wants to talk tonight.

It's hard to be positive though. I was positive last night.

Crushed.

My Disappearing Friend

Her name is Brianna.

I've never lost a friend before. At least not one that hasn't died. Not one that has just chosen to walk away...

I pride myself on the fact that I am good to my friends. I have always been good to my friends. The people who stay with you when you're crazy until you get better are people you want in your life. The people who stay with you when you're gay after coming out are people you want in your life. The people who stay with you when you're crazy AND gay... well, they're just keepers. Full stop.

I treat my friends well, though I'm well aware that I am not one of those people who "check in" very often. I do take my friendships for granted sometimes, but at the bottom of it all, I love my friends, and I make sure that they know that.

I am not high maintenance. I do not need much from people. I am quite self-sufficient and I don't base my self-worth on what other people think of me. I really don't like drama, and I don't hold a grudge. Yes, I complain sometimes about really self-absorbed people that upset me in the moment (still two months worth of pregnancy to go!), but I would never ever say anything to somebody's face that I know would hurt them. I just don't think that helps anyone.

So, Brianna and I are not childhood friends, but she's one of those people that I put a lot of my self into. We met in university in an intensive course working on the art of autobiography - and basically, I was so blown away by her strength and her wise old soul and her broken past that I knew we would connect on a very deep level for years to come. And we have, on the most part.

But I don't really know what happened. I know it has little to do with me and much to do with her, but it's hard not to take things personally. She disappears - literally. One day she's living in the same city as me and the next, she decided to take a road trip across Canada. Or go live with her aunt up North. Or go visit her sister in Newfoundland. She answers to herself, and has always done things that feel right in the moment, which I have always respected. Someone who lives by their heart and their gut: how romantic...

Romantic, maybe. Conducive to a healthy friendship? Not so much. So she disappears, and I don't check in... because, well, I don't do that. Plus, I have no idea how to get a hold of her. And nine months later, she's sleeping on my couch for 48 hours and we make promises to see more of each other and renew our deep commitment to each other and hug tight and part ways and then suddenly it's four months later, my emails have gone unanswered, and my phone calls haven't been returned.

This would not bother me so much if it wasn't someone I am so invested in, care so much about, and would do anything for. But I've been hurt too many times by empty promises and last minutes cancellations and no shows, so I am doing something about it: I'm doing nothing.

And it's killing me.

I have sent my last email. I just called her for the last time (and left another message). I am seeing her tomorrow at a social gathering and I will not walk away with a new sense of strength in our friendship. I will lower my expectations of our friendship, and of her. In fact, the expectations have to be so low, that I am basically walking away... or letting her disappear.

She has been going through some identity-rocking stuff, and I have been very forgiving. But she's always "going through stuff". I have told her that I support her. I have told her, in not so many words, that she can walk over me, not give a shit about our friendship, show up half a year later expecting me to apologize for not getting in touch, and I will be here when she's ready. I will say again: I pride myself on the fact that I am a good friend. So this is not familiar behaviour, and it feels awful. But not as awful as the little heartbreaks I feel inside my chest every time I think of her, try to speak with her, or don't hear from her.

Goodbye, Brianna. May you find peace, stillness, and strength.

Cabin Fever and Comedy

 

This is one of the best presents I've ever received. And yes, it's a real hoodie. With hearts and rainbows and loud colours, alongside a wonderfully bold statement. I suppose you need to understand my humour - and stance on how there needs to be more of it when it comes to mental illness - to appreciate it as much as I do. If you can't laugh about being bonkers, then it's a sad, sad day. Even on the saddest of days - especially on the saddest of days!

Although I've lost the majority of my memory due to a brain injury after too much shock therapy, I have boxes and boxes of journals from a period of about seven years, quite a few of those years were spent locked up in psych wards. I am a mental health advocate, and I do take offense to some inappropriate uses of diagnoses (one of my biggest pet peeves is when people use the word "schizo" as an adjective for something a) out of the ordinary or b) that has two distinctive sides - seriously, when are people going to learn that schizophrenia is not a split personality disorder?), but I really do think there is room for humour in a world where there is generally little. In my journals, I wrote about every single person I met in the psych ward: from catatonic schizophrenics to manic patients with grandiose ideas of breaking out of the locked wards to the "regular" suicidal depressives. Like me.

In spite of the fact that I didn't believe I was born in 300 B.C. or that I had a child that was a turtle stuck in Russia or was being followed by the entire crew of "Men In Black," I was more or less the same as everyone in there. Sad, confused, scared, misunderstood.

You have to have a sense of humour when you're locked up. There is really no other way to survive it. So, receiving a hoodie from D like the one above makes me smile.  She got it for me on one of my anniversaries of being out of the psych ward - excellent landmarks in my life. I don't think I could ever wear it out of the house, but it is one of my pieces of clothing.

There is this great group that travels around Canada called Stand Up for Mental Health. I've had the pleasure of seeing them perform live. It is a stand-up comedy group which was created by a therapist (who has a mental illness himself) as a type of therapy for people who have a mental illness. I think it's remarkable and the people are incredibly brave.

Here's a taste - it's worth a look:

I'm on my third day of a two-week staycation - my first time off work in a year. Last year, we went to Maui. This year, the money is going into the house, D has already taken time off work over Christmas, and I am taking my "vacation" alone, which, in all honesty, can be risky.

I have a tendency to shut myself in, not leave my house, and get fixated on silly things. And it won't be until five days down the line when my hair is so greasy I could cook with it, and I'm scaring myself away with how bad I smell, that I recognize that "hmmm... maybe this isn't the healthiest for me to be doing."

Having been severely depressed, I have had many years of feeling safer indoors. Not needing to talk to people, not needing to fake it, just being miserable in my own skin... I thought I was doing everyone - especially myself - a huge favour. Misery loves company, and though I hated my self (and wanted to die), it was easier that going out in the world.

Once, when I was living in a house with seven other people (that could only technically house three, but we were all poor), I locked myself in my bedroom and played computer games for five days straight. I left the room to go to the bathroom, and I think once or twice to get some bread from the kitchen.

That was almost 10 years ago, but when I'm alone in the house, I can feel myself slip. Not to that extent of pure isolation (which is near impossible when you live with your spouse), but there is a pull to lock myself away. So, today, I am actually going to shower, take out the garbage and maybe even go to the bottle depot. I might even stop for groceries. Hell, maybe I'll even go to the mall. Ugh. Maybe not.

I'm better now; I'm healthy. But I wonder if that pull to disappear ever does go away.

I hear stories of women who have just given birth, who don't leave the house and don't shower for weeks. I can see this being me... but where is the line between being unhealthy and just being a good mother?

The Power of Words

Many of the blogs I read have participated in the One Little Word Project, and I'm a little slow out of the gates, but this subject is near and dear to my heart, because this is something of a tradition for me.

Every year, for the past three years around Christmas, whether blatantly or subtly, D finds out what word I would like to have as my mantra for the coming year. Although the actual physical follow-through didn't happen until a year later, I think the tradition was created after a retrospective talk at the end of 2007, which, to date, seemed to be the busiest year of our lives together. That year, I finally graduated from college (after taking seven years to complete an undergrad... let me tell you - it's tough to get a degree when, for the first few years of it, you end up in a psych ward every time exam season rolled around!), D started a brand new job, I started a brand new job (first time in the full-time workforce, after having been on disability for years), we moved away from the city, we bought a condo in the suburbs, and we got married. Yes - all of this in one year!

Although it was a thrilling year, I think it knocked the wind out of both of us - especially me, who is not super great with change and/or not knowing what the future will bring. We are not superstitious people, nor are we big holiday folks, but New Years to us seems to be the most important time... especially after a year like 2010, which was pretty horrible, to be honest.

So each year since 2007, I have - sometimes unknowingly - chosen a single word for the coming year. Starting at Christmas in 2008, D made it real for me.

My 2009 word

STRENGTH was my word for 2009. For the Christmas just prior, D got me a key chain which you can add anything to (it's a circular stainless steel band - see above, on a blanket full of kitten fur). She got my word engraved and STRENGTH was the original... I had no idea that it would turn into an annual gift. I chose STRENGTH because, many many years ago, before D and I were a couple, and we were just friends, I was going through some tough times with my health, and D gave me a little silver pocket charm with the word "STRENGTH" etched into one side.

I kept that charm in my pocket every day for six years. I could not leave the house without it, and I always found comfort putting a hand in my pocket, just to touch it, know it was there, and draw whatever strength I could from it. I have always known the power of words (part of the reason I wanted to become a writer... still working on that!), and though it was such a simple thing, it meant so much to me.

Perhaps too much. I got attached to it, and couldn't imagine going through life without it. I think the day of my wedding was the first day that I didn't have it on my person; I was wearing a dress, after all... and let's just say my boobs don't really allow for "storage" like some other boobs I know (very) well.

My friends got married two months after we did, and on the way to their reception - somewhere between the car to the venue - the pocket strength got lost. Panicked, I looked for quite some time, and because of lack of light and just too much ground to cover, I had to let it go. Both physically and metaphorically. It was harder than I ever thought it would be. I took some solace in the fact that I had drawn all the strength I could from it, and that the person who found it was someone who needed it more than I did... that I was ready to move on.

Although I was able to live just fine without it, it never really left my mind, so when D gave me this new strength just over a year later, it felt like I had found the charm all over again.

I didn't know it was to become an annual thing, until the next year:

My 2010 word

GOODNESS. Although it sounds a little funny off the tongue, GOODNESS made sense for 2010. The year certainly didn't turn out to have a heck of a lot of goodness in it - at least not until the last few months of it - but it was still something that resonated with me at the turn of the year. I have since washed myself clean of all the wrongs of 2010 - and there was plenty of that - so maybe it wasn't a good choice, but I certainly learned, by the end of the year, the power that the word GOODNESS holds... and the good did come, just a little later in the year. By November 2010, GOODNESS did fill a lot of my life.

This year's word is the most exciting to me, I think.

My 2011 word

HOPE. It even looks different from the prior years' designs. Because this year really is going to be different. It will be filled with HOPE... it already is.

I have hope for my relationship, because I know it's true potential.

I have hope that we will find a new home, perfect for us, where I know we belong.

I have hope that a new job will come up, where I will be celebrated and recognized (I would stay in mine, but it is a mat leave position!)

I have hope for my health, as I wean off some meds.

I have hope that this year will bring a family - whatever that may mean.

Bring it on...

Withdrawal

I didn't think it would be this hard.

Dropping my anti-anxieties by 75% over the last three weeks has gone really well except for the last week. Although we are staying in a lush hotel with a wonderfully comfy bed, I have had major issues sleeping and I am so sad about it. I know it's not a weakness - my body is obviously dependent on these benzos, but I suppose I'm just disappointed with the fact that it hasn't been really really easy.

Not that coming off head meds is ever easy, but I just thought: this is the right time. My mood has been okay, which is the most important thing, but I know that if I continue not sleeping, my mood is next to go. Today, I'm off work because of my stomach, which gets really bad if I don't get enough sleep. I can't afford to take time off work right now... especially going into a 2-week vacation next week.

We had such a fun time last night at our friends' house - got fed really well, and when we got back to the hotel, I was exhausted. But alas, the light went off and my head turned on... work, money, home, work, car, money, friends, work, money, work, work, work - something like that. I always joke about somehow getting through quality control without an "off" switch, and it's true. I can't turn off my head.

                        [photo credit]

I've tried meditation, breathing, focusing on something else. I've tried writing, talking, writing music. I last about 30 seconds in an attempt at meditating, before I think "Oh, I'll never be able to do this."

Focus on your breath. Calm your mind.

I am going to up my meds just slightly tonight so that I can sleep tonight, and then the weekend will be okay. When I NEED to sleep, I think about it all the time. When I just need to get through a weekend, there usually doesn't seem to be a problem. But this drop is different...

I do feel that this really is my body telling me that it needs the anti-anxieties for a physical reason. I suppose I need to respect that. As much as I hate it, some times other forces are too big for one person to try to change.

So, it's okay. I just take more time to do this. It will happen when I'm ready for it. I originally said I'd be off the anti-anxieties by Valentine's Day, and then sped up the process. I think I'll just go back to my original goal. Lord knows I have to do this with some other meds soon enough.

Playing Pretend With My Heart Strings

Although I am back at work tomorrow after a glorious 10 days off, I am still in vacation mode, as my parents gave D and me a gift of having 5 nights in a posh hotel downtown. So we took the kittens to "camp" and have just enjoyed being in the city. We're here most of the week, and it's making me realize what a good move this next one will be: from the suburbs back to the city. We are not huge "city folks" but we are soooo not suburbians. Unfortunately it took a large mortgage and 3 years to figure that out. But alas... we will be moving in the summer, hopefully.

We've picked up magazines and started looking at homes more seriously. D has a great idea of what she wants. We generally have the same taste in places and have a similar idea of what we want, but it's getting more obvious that though this is most likely a near-forever move, D seems to be thinking of 2, not 3 people. Just me and her... I could be wrong, but yet, how would I know?

No, I haven't brought up the baby talk yet. Truth is, I'm just enjoying the time off with her, the lightness of just enjoying each others' company and just being a couple. Emphasis on the word "couple". Two. Duo. Just us.

Part of me just wants to get over this hump and see what the talk will bring, but there is a bigger part of me that knows that if the answer is not what I am expecting or hoping for, I am going to be crushed, and for right now, I am enjoying my time, my wife, my pseudo vacation... so I will hold off until we are home in our own place with a door to close that's not a hotel bathroom door.

Or I'm just too scared. Maybe I'm just too scared. Am I putting this off for no reason?

I've enjoyed reading my blogroll blogs over the last few weeks. Great birth stories, pregnancy stories, babies and happy mamas... so awesome. I'm thrilled for everyone who has had great news over the last little while.

Sometimes I feel like a bit of a voyeur. I do not have a belly, nor a sperm donor, nor even a partner that I'm talking to about anything yet. But I keep telling myself that my time will come, and for this week, I may hold off. Yet again, if the time feels right, I will bring it up. Because I deserve to know. I've held up my end of the bargain, and it's time I know.

Do I want to know?

Our Little Family is A-Okay :-)

So, 2010: Good frikkin' riddance... you brought little good, and were probably one of the toughest years in recent history.

2011: Welcome, my friend. I already know you will bring good things. In fact, you already have.

D and I had an incredible New Years - actually, we had an incredible week. We are still having an incredible week. It is hard to explain how happy I am right now. I just feel as though everything is where it is suppose to be, exactly how it should be.

I have an amazing partner, who surprises me every single day with her love and kindness. Our relationship has flourished ten-fold, and we are nothing like we were. We have found a new way to love, a new way to live, with an old, familiar sense of knowing that we will always be okay.

We brought in the new year after a day of D working on the house (which looks amazing). She is really talented when it comes to DIY stuff - who knew?! She let me sleep... I am now on week two of coming off my anti-anxieties, and things are going extremely well. I have slept, and thanks to D's support these last few weeks, have had little problems. I dropped the dose again last night, and hope to be off almost a month earlier than I'd originally hoped. Anyway, I woke up to a beautifully tiled kitchen, a cup of coffee, and a kiss. Nothing better than that...

We did some errands, went for breakfast and went for a walk... the latter being kind of a big deal. I have not been able to walk for almost 4 years without pain, but yesterday, feeling good and almost-pain-free, I suggested a quick walk around a lake close to our home, and despite the temperature being in the minuses, we had a fabulous time. Came home, relaxed, talked about what we wanted this next year to look like, got some take-out and brought in the new year with a few glasses of champagne.

We woke up this morning with a new shared sense of faith. We are both so ready to move on from last year, and it just feels so good to shed it, shake it off, and start fresh.

As we were lying in bed this morning, D turned to me and said "You know the ban ends today." For a second, I didn't clue into what she was saying, and then I smiled: the baby-talk ban is over. 2011 is here, and we are now able to talk about babies. Never in a million years did I expect her to bring it to my attention though...

I smiled and replied, "I know."

And that's it.

Because today is about us. Today is a day where I can look around my home and know that I am happy with everything as it is. Today is exactly as it should be: I have a partner who I adore more than ever before. I have a home that, for now, I am happy to be in. I have two of the cutest kittens in the world, who also know that everything is wonderful. The sun is shining on the snow on the ground. The sky is blue and the fire is on. I am exactly where I should be.

So, today will be another day that we don't talk about babies. Today will be a day to focus on what we have right now. And I wouldn't have it any other way...

Today is an amazing day.

Happy New Years, everyone. May 2011 bring all the hope, joy, and love possible.