You might have noticed a gradually increasing dearth of posts around here. I’ve been busy. Work has been (lately, very) busy and, I dare say, enjoyable. I’ve had the amazing luck to have gone from one amazing team (Collecta–where I was for the last two years) to yet another. I cannot hide my excitement about the group of people I’ve found myself surrounded by at Extra Sauce and I must confess a somewhat disturbing affection1 for my coworkers. I have a good feeling about this one.
I recently had the realization that no day will ever go by that I don’t think about Margot. That no day will ever go by without between 10 and 50 things that trigger her memory, or the memory of losing her, or the reality of the loss I now reside in. And in that realization I became ok with it. The thought sounded something like this: “…and that’s ok.” This is my reality. This is the rest of my life. I’m not sure how this has changed me long term. I’m not even sure if it’s a burden or a freedom; maybe it is somehow both. But the simple acceptance of its permanence felt like a step in the right direction.
(Warning: TMI paragraph.) Been riding my ass off. Literally. Each of the last two Sundays I’ve returned from a 50 mile ride with skin missing from my backside. Not saddle sores (I worked through those earlier this year), but where the sweat–created in greater quantities in the 90-100° heat and evaporating more slowly in the high humidity–pools. That is probably the worst part of the summer training. There is also the severe cramping afterwards and the slower recovery time. Still, I thought I was going to give up when it got above 90 and I’m still, somehow, cramming the miles in week after week. It’s more important for my sanity than, for example, this blog. It’s more important for my sanity than just about anything, which is probably what’s keeping me on the bike despite the misery of the Texas summer.
I’ve mentioned before on this blog that I was considering antidepressants and that I’d used them in the past with (limited) success. Well I finally, at the recommendation of my therapist, saw a psychiatrist and started on some antidepressants. They had their expected (and previously experienced) side effects and their desired clinical effects were negligible. I was just about to give up when he recommended an additional drug. Maybe I was desperate. Maybe I was led. Whichever the case, this thing has been amazing. I’ve never been so focused, motivated or full of energy before. Even my thoughts improved (obviously this is related to focus, but nevertheless). I’m not going to say what this new drug is, but let’s just say you’ve probably seen a commercial for it on TV. Last weekend I said to a friend, “I hate being a [drug] commercial!”
In case this blog is your only interaction with my life (given my infrequency of posts you should really follow me on Twitter), we found out our new baby is a girl. I had only come to terms with the fact it could be a boy about 10 seconds prior to the sonogram tech telling us it is a girl. Lucy. (Middle name is either Pearl or Rae …please chime in with your choice.) It’s hard to think about Lucy when I still miss Margot so much, and everything baby-related (clothes, products, etc) makes me think of the past, not the future. Still, I can’t help but think that there must be something really special about Lucy. Might not be just any ol’ angel charged with her wellbeing.
The song embedded at the top of this post is by my friend Andy Zipf2 who has a new record out (I Ain’t the Kind for Givin’ Up is the opening track). I’ve been consuming a lot of music lately (and writing none–a post for another day, perhaps) and so often a song falls into that 10 to 50 things a day I mentioned. But sometimes a song just is, or just fits, or just helps. I was happy to discover this to be the first track on a friend’s new album. It meant something.
Summer. It’s alright.