June

Okay. I'm back.

That was a somewhat unscheduled break, but clearly I needed one. I'm still not sure I have anything useful today, but I've been assured that's okay.

It's been sort of a stressful month over here. Not sure I can point to any one big thing in particular (except the working two weekends in a row), but there's been a lot of little stuff that keeps cropping up.

June, however, is going to be full of stressors. Graduation is next week, and I'm going to have family in town for that, and then my mom's mastectomy (finally) is on the 20th. Among other things.

So it's probably better if I get back into the blogging habit and resist my urge to hide in the shadows of my life as much as I can.

I'm also going to try not to be all Debbie Downer. We'll see how it goes....

A clear sign...

I just wrote this in an email...

I think we all struggle with getting to know who we are, finding out what really validates us, understanding the ways we relate to people and what brings us down or lifts us up. We get mired in patterns that are comfortable and familiar but unhealthy or unhelpful, and I think one of the functions of real maturity is being able to step back and observe that and adjust our course accordingly. Turning that rudder, unfortunately, can be really hard work, but it also shows us so much.

 

Blah, blah, blah. 

 

This is a clear indication that I need to be blogging more. Otherwise I start writing crap like this in random emails. I obviously need an outlet for my blathering on...

Yeah, I don't know....

....why I haven't been blogging lately.

Partly, it's just that I've been tired at the end of the night and falling asleep pretty early.

One of my friends pointed out today, though, that I've been fairly absent from Facebook as well. And coffee, while we're at it.

Maybe I have been a little withdrawn.

Not really sure why...

I'll try to do better.

I'm still here

I don't know where I've been for the past week.

I think, at the end of last week I was busy being stressed out and tired and ready for vacation. And the last four days I've been something of a vegetable.

I'm on staycation. It's beautiful. I have some actual things to do during the week, so it's not as awesome as it could be. And the unfortunate thing, actually, is that I was supposed to be in Chicago this week. I'm actually pretty bummed that I'm not there. But, duty calls. So here I am.

I really have been a bum this week. It's been so nice. I've been to the gym every day. I saw the chiropractor today, for the first time in three weeks. I have two sessions with my trainer this week, and two with my shrink. I've watched some Netflix, went to coffee every single morning, did my own grocery shopping - twice - instead of using the online service. I hung out. I cleaned out a closet today (mostly).

Maybe I have done some productive things...

The dog and the cat are...well, it will get better. The cat is attacking the dog now, which I think is actually a positive thing (and she doesn't have claws, so it's also a not-especially-dangerous thing), because at least they're making contact. I watched Gulan hide on the steps today and swat at Maggie. Maggie is less scared of her, but still fairly wary. And I kind of wonder, actually, if Gulan would respond to Maggie chasing her, but Maggie, of course, is much too polite to do that.

Gulan is warming up to me, too. She's stopped hiding constantly in the basement and has started trying to steal my cereal in the mornings. It's actually pretty cute. She comes up for love at other times, too, and even has been sleeping on the second floor with us (although, in the bathroom). I figure she'll get adjusted just in time for Olga to want her back...

Olga's doing pretty well. Still in the ICU, still on intermittent dialysis, still weaning from the ventilator. Slowly, but surely, getting better.

Tomorrow my mom has a procedure at the hospital. Friday I've got a couple of things I need to do, but I still have Thursday and the weekend....

Blurb

Working the weekend. Nice night out with the girls, but I stayed out later than anticipated, and my alarm goes off at 5am...

Maggie turned nine yesterday. She's the best dog ever. I love that silly mutt. She's so smart and sweet and awesome.

Gulan is still hiding in the basement, but at least she's using the litterbox now. And when I went down tonight, she was sleeping in the hallway, instead of in the back corner of the closet behind the fold-up bed.

Olga has now lost her entire left leg and went back to surgery today to control some bleeding. Keep praying for her, to whatever deity you think is listening.

My neighbors are really loud. Don't they know I should be asleep??

Life lessons from a Tuesday

Here are ten things I learned (or, well, remembered) today, on this very ordinary Tuesday, in no particular order.

1. Good news comes sometimes when you least expect it.

2. Some good news is as simple as a canceled appointment.

3. Compatible neuroses make a powerful glue, but incompatible ones can cause a world of trouble.

4. Sometimes positive thinking works.

5. "No, no, anything but that" does not appear to be positive thinking.

6. Being a teenager sucks, and also rocks, which is part of why it sucks.

7. A good meal with a good friend can go a long way.

8. It's fascinating to watch the interplay of interpersonal and group dynamics, especially as the group shifts in a particular direction.

9. The male-female dyad is one of the most powerful and most complicated things about humanity.

10. Happiness really is a warm puppy.

Parry. Thrust. Repeat.

I know the weekend isn't quite over yet, but I'm calling it - this has been a pretty good weekend.

Today was notable for several things. We had a good time at coffee. They had a little group of caroling girls there today (the Snowflake Sisters. How cute) who were pretty darn good. They looked like they were probably middle schoolers, which made their willingness to stand up in front of a coffee shop full of people and sing Christmas carols that much more impressive. It made me a little nostalgic (okay, a lot nostalgic) for my choir days. Had some good conversations with the usual weekend suspects. Had a good (decaf) mocha.

Met up with Larry later for noteable activity #2. Our friends' son has gotten into fencing. In a pretty big way, actually. So much so that he quit his other sports and now goes to fencing classes three days during the week and then has stuff on weekends. So last week, when Kim was talking about this upcoming fencing tournament, Larry suggested we go and support Quinn. Neither of us had ever seen a fencing match before - you know, movies and things, but not a real one - and thought it sounded pretty interesting. And it was!

Here's a picture of some nondescript children fencing that I stole from Kim's photos of an old tournament. I figure, since they're all covered up, it doesn't violate my no-people-on-the-blog rule. Cute, though, huh? Quinn is 10, I think. Those silver jackets they're wearing and their helmets (I'm sure they have a more technical name than that, but I'm also sure I don't know it) are made of some sort of mesh that senses when they come in contact with the other fencer's foil or sword. Those cords on their backs actually connect their gear to some big electrical apparatus that lights up and makes a noise when there's contact made, to help the referees know.

Larry described them as "tiny little fencers on leashes."

It was really a fascinating experience. I expected more swashbuckling. The kids appeared mostly to be stabbing at each other, but there seemed to be some ritual and finesse to it. One tiny little girl kept whacking her tiny opponent in the head, which cracked me up. Apparently the scoring has something to do with who is the aggressor, but you can also win points on a counter attack. There was a series of matches that somehow led to a bracket system, and then they all got set up into an elimination round. Larry and I had a hell of a time keeping up with the scoring and trying to figure out the complicated hand signals the refs kept using. We repeatedly thought Quinn won when he hadn't (but then again, we might be biased). He did okay, though. He was 5/10 in the "pools" (the thing that set up the brackets), and although he lost the first elimination round, he did really pretty well. Apparently he earned a bronze medal for his efforts, and did really well in the second tournament against the older kids. It was a good time.

We, however, didn't stay for the second match-up, because I had notable event #3, yet another applicant dinner to go to. It turned out to be a really good time, however. The restaurant we always go to is amazing, and tonight the company was great, too. We only had two applicants, and three residents, and one of them was Juliet, whom I just totally adore. The applicants were a lot of fun, actually. Both would fit right in to the program. Of course, I have no idea what the rest of their applications look like, but nonetheless.

It turned out to be a good weekend. Halle- fucking-lujah.

Tough Tummy Tuesday

I'm sick. Weirdly, weirdly sick.

I woke up around 4am yesterday feeling pukey and with a significant case of the dry heaves. So I stayed home from work, and slept through most of the day. I didn't feel a whole lot better today, but I sucked it up and went to work for the first half of the day. I canceled my clinic and came home around 1. I wrote my notes from home, and ended up napping between each one. Good times.

I think I may have given myself an ulcer. I've been thinking this for a while, actually. And I'd blame all of this on that, except for the whole sleeping all day thing and the fact that my joints are all sore. But regardless, I picked up some Prilosec at the Rite Aid.

Whine, whine, whine.

It's my blog, and I'll whine if I want to

So this particular blog entry comes with a disclaimer. Believe it or not, I keep a lot of personal shit off the blog. But I'm having one of those days weeks months moments when I just...don't care. To the best of my knowledge, no one who's about to be mentioned reads my blog, so it's probably not you (although you may know the players involved, keep it to yourself). No, I don't know that I want to talk about it. I just want to bitch.

I'm not doing so well. I'm going to be honest. I'm in a pretty dark place right now. I generally hold up the facade remarkably well, and even that is starting to falter. I'm finding myself much more negative these days than I want to be.

Friday was a horrible day. I got chewed out at work by my boss. I cried in her office for 45 minutes, after which I ran into the person I least wanted to see right then and had to walk straight into a family meeting. What almost makes it worse for me is that she thinks she's helping. I'm not going to perseverate any longer on whether she's right or wrong or just looking at part of the picture, because it's irrelevant. Yes, I'm off my game at work, because my entire life seems to be busy imploding. I'm not saying it's okay. I'm saying please give me some consideration for the fact that many people would not look okay from day to day. Please hear me when I say I don't understand what I'm doing wrong in any sort of prospective way. Please understand that I'm a little bit fragile right now and treat me accordingly. And know that my professional identity is such a part of the core of who I am, that right now I'm going to internalize every moment of potential criticism.

Friday after work, I spent an hour sitting outside the hospital in my car waiting for them to discharge my dad. And mostly crying. They finally let him loose, and I took him home, and promptly got into an argument with my parents about what essentially boils down to a tension between their needs and mine. I'm trying to keep my head above water, and I'm feeling like no one is acknowledging what I need. I don't care if that need doesn't get met, truly; I just want someone to recognize the kind of pain I'm in from the fact that my life currently sucks in multiple ways and both my parents are actively dying.

Meanwhile, I have this friend who is being remarkably ambivalent about what kind of friends we are. No, that's not true. I'm interpreting this friend's actions as ambivalence; in truth, they may be clear in a way I can't currently see, there's no way to know. But I feel it very acutely right now. I'm as needy as I get, which frankly isn't usually asking too much. I just want some consistency. I just want to know where I stand. And I just want, mostly, to feel like I have consistent support. I don't want anything to be this complicated right now.

And then, of course, there's this particular circle of friends that I have. And there's a developing schism in that group. I, truly, have no idea what to do about this. I feel like I'm going to need to choose a side in the near future, and I don't want to. It's not fair. I don't want to feel like my friends are choosing a side of this division over me, and I don't want to feel like I'll have to relinquish those friendships to stay neutral. Because then I might as well have chosen a side, which  feels like a lose/lose for me. I really value people on both sides. And I don't like being strewn akimbo in this process.

I'm feeling so unbelievably incompetent in pretty much every corner of my life these days. Personal, filial, romantic, professional, familial. I feel like a failure as a grown up. I pretty much hate my life right now. And in the middle of all of this chaos, on goes my personal work in therapy - dealing with my issues, figuring out who I am, what I want, and what's authentically me, trying to understand the things that repeatedly get in my way.

I want my life back. I want myself back. And I don't know how to get there.

Clogged

So one of my patients looks at me the other day and says, "You know...I love long hair on a woman."

It was a wildly inappropriate thing to say, yes, but it's not a narrowly held sentiment. In fact, part of the reason I grew my hair back out to its current almost-at-my-waist length is because a guy I was kind of dating when I had short hair saw old  pictures of me and said, "Damn, that hair is hot as hell." And, you know, I like it better this way, too.

But here's the thing - it's not all Pantene Roses and Redken Dreams.

A, it gets tangled up in everything. Two, I shed like a fiend, and it's a lot more noticeable. But, three...you will not believe what came out of my shower drain tonight.

And on a related note, it's time I got a man.

Not that I wasn't wildly successful at unclogging my shower drain tonight with a makeshift coat-hanger-turned-pipe-snake-hair-puller-outer-thingy. There's no longer four inches of standing water at the end of my shower. I won't be constantly slipping on the conditioner residue for at least the next couple of months. But I would greatly have appreciated being able to twirl my long auburn locks around my finger and say, "Honeeeeey...."

Oh, who am I kidding. Any man attached to me would've been handing me the pliers.

Bleh

The internet is down at my house.

It will be fixed Saturday, or so they allege.

I don't care if it IS Thursday, I do not love this!

Oh, and, the little brown mouse? (Who was, for the record, not the mouse in the picture. That was a Google stock photo somewhere.) He is no more. RIP, little brown mouse. In better news, the second trap is currently mouse-free, so maybe there was just one.

And in news I *do* love - it's almost Friday!! Which is two weeks to the beach! Woo-hoo!!!

That is all for this Stream of Consciousness Thursday....

Narrative thread

So my friend walks into my office today with a book I loaned him four months ago.

Wait, let me back this story up a little bit.

Sometime in March, Scott loaned me a book. Not a super-unusual occurrence. And then the next day we had a conversation about something, which I'm thinking was an esoteric discussion of sex and the underestimated ways it alters relationships and the way Freud and Jung and all them deal with the energetics and more mystical ideas about sex. Again, not an uncommon occurrence. Scott and I have had this very conversation in varying degrees of depth before, and, let's face it, Scott and I are big into discussing esoterica. And because of the recent book loaning, I was like, "Ooh!! You have GOT to read this book I have. You'll love it."

And so the next day, I come into work with Paulo Coelho's Eleven Minutes, which I'd stumbled across in a bookstore in Maui and had led to this flurry of new-favorite-author endearment and reading of multiple Coelho books. I love this book, and pretty much everything else of his that I've read. So Scott comes into my office at the end of the day and I, all excited, present him with this book.

He looks at it for a moment. And then he hands it back to me and says, "Yeah, I don't read fiction."

I was taken a little bit aback. "You.....you what now?"

"I don't read fiction."

"You read every piece of mythology and mysticism you can get you hands on," I say slowly, "but you categorically deny FICTION?"

"Right," he says. "I don't read fiction."

I, of course, said, right, okay, whatever, but in truth, I did not take this well. And so he leaves my office and I'm sitting there thinking, doesn't read fiction. What the hell is that? Who doesn't read an entire category like "fiction"? What the hell is wrong with Scott?! Jeebus... And, of course, somehow decided this was a personal affront and that was the world's LAMEST EXCUSE for not wanting to read my contemporarily favorite book.

And I stewed a little more, and then I realized how bloody well pissed off I was. And so I marched down to his office, threw the book at him, and said something to the effect of, "Who the hell doesn't read fiction? READ THE DAMN BOOK." He argued, but he took the book.

Then, this past Monday night, I get a text message from him that he's 100 pages into the book and befuddled about something. 

So today, he brings the book back to me, and we're talking briefly about it, and he says, "you know, I wish Coelho had just talked about his philosophies and skipped the story."

I looked at him and realized, this made my heart a little sad.

Because to me, all of life is about the narrative. It's about the stories we create, the ebb and flow of events, the cascading of life's nuances. So much is connected to the narrative, and it's fascinating to me to watch how people's narratives crash into one another, tangle and tussle and are forever altered. We spin our threads and then weave our lives together in ways that must even awe the Fates (who were, of course, the women at the cosmic spinning wheels in Greek mythology). It's remarkable, it's infinite in its reach, and it's never, ever simple.

And in the telling of the story - the language, the arrangement, the allegory - there is often so much more to be learned about the author than about the sequence of events themselves. This is part of what I love about doing psychotherapy. I have an awareness about how my brain works, that it often thinks in analogy and metaphor, but the fact is - that's not particularly special. Everyone does this, whether they're aware of it or not. We all construct our stories in ways that relate to those things we know; we tie things together, we make connections. The depth and complexity of those analogies vary, and often, it's not the conscious mind that's making these connections so generally only a small portion of these analogies sees the light of conscious awareness. But the removed (i.e., non-defended) and trained ear can hear the soft bubbling of the subconscious beneath the torrent of details. It can see the significance of the order of events in the retelling, know the influence of the past and future, recognize the cacophony of defenses trying to drown out the siren song of the shadow self. It acquaints itself with the ambivalence of life, the veracity in every lie and the perjury of truth.

So often, though, this requires listening with one's own subconscious, and that is a tricky proposition, because we're trained to cling to our words as mere words and not as symbols and analogies. So it comes out as affect, or imagery; it stirs the listener's own metaphors and associations. Which creates, then, its own, new, narrative.

And the web expands.

Seriously. It does not get cooler than that.

Wicked cool

Today was another cranky day. Good crew at coffee today ("a flurry of friends," was one description) AND I got my second baby hat finished. But I kept looking at my watch and swearing...

I had a difficult consult this morning (well, the psychiatry wasn't so difficult, but it was rather emotionally wrenching...). I discharged two of my favorite patients from my clinic today. And then I stopped at the PetSmart on the way home and promptly locked my keys in the car. Which turned a 15-minute errand into a 90-minute ordeal in 92-degree heat. Frickin' awesome.

But.

I did have a nice lunch with two of my friends who just graduated. And I came back from lunch, and there was a homemade donut on my desk, courtesy of the same medical student who brought me roving a couple of weeks ago. It's such a shame that we can't convince him to go into psychiatry. That was one tasty donut.

Also in good news today - check this out. Our clinic ROCKS.

Guilt

I have to say, I'm feeling fairly guilty.

There's been a fair amount of stuff going on, actually. Nothing ground breaking but stuff like a good night out with friends, a busy day at work, a funny dog story. Stuff I could be writing about that would be far more interesting and consequential that the drivel I've been drivelling lately.

But.

I'm so tired these days. A, I think I'm getting sick, and 2, I have a full time job, you know? That whole residency thing. And then I've acquired this other job, running the Family Care Home (because, of course, I've been living at Shady Pines, taking care of the folks), which gives my parents the resources of Assisted Living while being able to pay only for Independent Living. Which isn't a bad deal for them. But it's starting to wear on me a bit. I love having the time to spend with them, but to go from being single, living alone in my own place with just me and my dog, to never having a moment alone between work and the FCH...it's a big change...and I'm exhausted.

So I'm feeling kind of guilty that I haven't been posting anything of substance lately, but, bear with me. This too will pass.

Back again

So my dad went back into the hospital, which preempted a timely Friday night blog. ::sigh::

I'm so glad the weekend is here....

SSDD

Today was frequently sucky.

My mom is fine. My dad is okay. There are other forces in my life acting up.

I choose to think that this is the test before something wonderful. Especially if I make it so.

Mom's doing great, actually. I'm almost afraid to jinx it. PT's hard on her, but she's making huge progress.

But the day ended well - I had coffee and a very restorative dinner with my cousin, and then a trip to Michael's where I bought cheap gigantic knitting needles for the gift basket I'm constructing for the staff (good for OT use) and a plastic canvas needlepoint for my mom. Then I came home and had a mug of hot cocoa and a chat with my dad, which was nice.

Three more days until we point the wagons East. Crazy.

Blurgh.

It's been a rough day. I can't promise cohesive thought tonight.

My mom is probably going to stay another week, which means I'm staying in Chicago another week, in part because they want to train me to be her primary caregiver until she's totally rehabbed. Which is okay, and I understand and agree with the team's recommendation, and I participated in the decision to stay, and I really want my mom to get the best chance at independence, here, and I also appreciate having another week where I can go out with my Chicago crew for lunch or dinner or just hang out while knowing that my mom is in a safe place under good care.

But while the decision to stay is on the whole a good one, I'm not as enthusiastic about delaying my return to NC for another week. I miss my dog. A lot. I miss my NC friends. I miss my own bed and all the things that are comfortable and familiar in my daily life. And I have a boatload of patients over whom I'm so protective that I routinely work with fevers or migraines because I'd rather go in than take a sick day and disrupt my patient care.

But, this is life.

I got some other irritating news today, that Cleo's mortgage guy could not in fact work miracles and get me a reasonable mortgage because my student loan company is sucking the life out of me (and my credit score, and my debt/income ratio). We may still be able to pull a rabbit out of that particular hat, but, it's definitely contributing to the crank factor.

And, I've been sticking to a fairly set (although not particularly rigid) meal plan this week (and going forward), which is stressing me out in its own right, not to mention that whole handling-a-lot-of-stress-without-using-the-eating-disorder component (which is surprisingly not awful, given the whole structured-but-flexible thing). The packing lunch/snacks is nice when I'm eating non-hospital food, but the logistics...well, it was better tonight than last night. In part because I didn't stress out tonight about if I was going to be able to find a microwave tomorrow, etc, etc. But, I need to be well-fueled for this whole endeavor, and maintain my immune system, and take care of myself so I can do all of that other caretaking. 

Which is something I really keep striving to remember. And which is never something I've done particularly well. But, one has to start retraining themselves sometime.

Oh for Pete's sake

Apparently I'm now officially a day behind in my posting of things. Which is not because anything is going wrong - just that I keep coming home exhausted. I'd actually started a post yesterday that got interrupted, but I came home last night at midnight (from meeting Claudia for dinner, not from the hospital) and promptly fell the hell asleep.

I also haven't been sleeping super well. I sense some espresso in my future today.

I'm also on the phone with some pharmacy tech at Walgreen's, because of course I've extended my tour of duty and have now run out of my asthma meds. She's really being snarky and condescending. I forgot how rude Midwesterners can be, relative to the South. I mean, Southerners might be sweet as pie and then talk about you behind your back, but who cares if the pharmacy girl does that. I'll take pie, thanks.

I'll write something actual and meaningful today, I promise.

Would like to reiterate....

Doctors are not evil.

We actually help people.

Especially when they come BEFORE things have reached catastrophic proportions.

And, also, the signs of stroke.

 I'm so tired...

But, I have to say - I have the world's best friends and family. Y'all have been so helpful. We had great visitors today. And more coming tomorrow. Crap, I'd better go to bed....

Christos anesti

It's just after midnight here in Chicago. Happy Easter. Were I back in NC, I'd planned on spending the night with a friend of mine and my cousin Lexi and her husband, in church for the midnight resurrection liturgy, anastasi. Because all restaurants are owned by Greeks (especially in Chicago, but I'm betting there are a number around down there, too), they tend to be open at 2am when church lets out, and so there's usually late night noshing and celebrating involved afterward. Instead, I spent the evening with my wonderful "inner circle" types. I ate really good pizza and too much giant frosted chocolate chip cookie (PS, y'all should not have sent that home with me). We talked and laughed and caught up, and - as always - it was wonderful.

I whine and complain sometimes about my life, because, you know, it's so damn hard. Which is no joke - I always seem to be riding the crest of some crisis or another. For a while I was trying to convince myself that was my own creation, that I was just catastrophizing and making mountains from molehills, but the truth of it is, there's a lot of crisis and chaos in my life. Partly because I allow it in; I fix things, it's what I do. So I'm more willing than some to jump into the middle of a crisis, and more likely to put myself into situations that may disintegrate into chaos.

But partly because I was either really horrible or really good in a past life, too, I'm thinking, because sometimes there's just no explaining the crazy shit that finds me.

It seems at the moment, though, that pretty much everyone I know is having a rough time of something right now, though. I mean, partly, it's the season for it (this is the end of our high-crazy season in mental health). Sometimes it's just a confluence of factors. But everyone seems a little bit more weary these days, and that saddens me a little.

But the sentiment of the Easter season does not escape me, and whether you're Christian or Jewish or Pagan or Muslim or Martian, it's something we can all appreciate. There's something very spring-like about the crucifixion story, of rebirth and redemption, of life renewed and hope revived. Whether you believe it fact or parable, wrote truth or good idea, it's an inspiring story. Little Jesus of Nazareth, all grown up (mysteriously enough) and facing his destiny. He is frightened, but he bears up his cross and marches on, keeping his focus on the goal, enduring the jeers and taunts of the crowd. He is tortured and tested, but it is not the human factor that breaks him; rather, in his final moments, he cries out to his father, feeling abandoned, alone, "Why have you forsaken me?" He draws a final, ragged breath and says, "It is finished."

Now, of course, the secret society conspirists will tell you that he may not have died, that he was entombed and then carried away in the depths of the darkness, that he was nursed and nurtured back to health by his inner circle and then went on to a full and meaningful life after "rising on the third day." Maybe that's true, and to be completely honest with you, that's the story I like to tell myself. But maybe it was nothing short of death and resurrection. Maybe Jesus was a zombie (how do you say "braaaaaains" in Aramaic, I wonder?). Maybe any number of other things happened in that tomb. Regardless, it's a tremendous story of strength and perseverance.

But I think that moment of doubt, of seeming abandonment, I think that's important to understand, too. I think we all have those moments, when we're muddling through as best we can, when we're trying so hard and are still drowning in the flow of catastrophe, when we're just overwhelmed and scared and feeling alone and abandoned. We may think all hope has been lost. Someone may even have a metaphoric sword in our side. Somehow, I find it comforting to know that even Jesus - knowing his purpose, knowing his fate - faltered, and in that affective storm, in that screaming chaos, showed his humanity so fully. And then - went forward anyway.

The story of the Passion is one of such tremendous hope, even in the face of fear, horror, and disaster. I'm trying to hold on to that right now, you know? It's a season of life renewed, of faith and hope and rebirth. But it's also a good reminder that one can feel the torrent and tumult and it's okay; in truth, it is that which marks their very humanity. It's okay to be scared going into the unknown, but if going forward is what needs to be done, you do it. And even if you get pulled under by the sucking, swirling currents of fear, you can and will overcome them. With faith in your goal, and with perseverance, you can, indeed, rise up.

Alithos anesti. Truly, he is risen.