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Apparently it is the thirtieth anniversary of Due South. THIRTIETH! What? I don't understand! What even is time?

I mean, okay. I guess. Even though I didn't watch the show when it aired (I bought the DVDs a few years later) it was still my first fandom. And at the time, I was in college then, and—yeah, okay. That was a long time ago,

So, all right, if I'mma be old, I'll be old, and do like we did back in the day, and post fic recs. I know! I don't see this as often any more, but: I'm pretty sure that's how I got to know both

thefourthvine and

norah , because they had such great recs-themed livejournals. (A vital fandom service, I tell you what.) So, in honor of the Due South thirtieth anniversary (and the

ds30below fest on tumblr), I give you: a Due South shenanigans-themed rec set.

One of the things I loved best about DS was the wacky, weird sense of humor. I honestly think, from having seen Paul Gross in other things, that a lot of it was his sense of humor—but, regardless, it's also mine. Sort of quirky, off-the-wall, sometimes magical realist. And fic I loved most managed to capture some of that sense of wackiness.

The Bodyguard, by speranza. Fraser/RayK, 20k words. This one has Fraser, Russians, vodka, spring chickens, and frequent jaunts to Canada (if by "Canada" you mean "Fraser's closet," and I do). For whatever reason, the line "my father gave you a cookie?" cracked me up every time, and even now I giggle when I think of it.
Chicago's Most Wanted, by speranza. Fraser/RayK, 43k words. The one where Fraser loses his memory and goes to jail and becomes convinced he's a criminal mastermind. Again, the line "diabolical and nutritious" cracks me up, lo these many year
Scrabble, by speranza. Fraser/RayK, 30k words. Whooboy. This one blew my mind when I read it—the format is wild, but it's what the format lets Speranza do with POVs that's so excellent. In this story, it's the image of Ray hollering "natural bullshit!" that makes me cackle.

(Did I mean to rec three fics by the same author? No. Will I let it stand? You bet your Stetson I will. Speranza was one of the best writers in Due South fandom, so ain't no harm in throwing a little love her way!)

This post also available on tumblr here.

So, I follow a bunch of auction sites online—the millennial version of my grandmother's lifelong habit of going to garage sales, I guess. (Plus: no getting up at 7 am on Saturdays, like we did with her as kids, to get there in time for good bargains.) Anyway, the other day I found this sculpture and immediately fell in love. But I couldn't figure out why I liked it so much; I'm not usually one for decorative objects. Then I thought, well, it reminds me of that wonderful Dorset/Inuit art I love so much... and then I realized. Guys. I like this little figurine because it makes me think of cesperanza 's Due South story Hanged Man. Remember that one? With the bread sculpture and the sea goat? Lo these many years later, that's what this sculpture made me think of. Hahaha. Our minds are so delightful and funny.
I've been really loving the Huberman Lab podcast. He's a Stanford professor of neurology and ophthalmology, and his podcast is focused on—he says "science education," but I'd say it's specifically neuroscience and biology, with an emphasis on understanding and improving physical and mental health via a deep understanding of biological mechanisms. This isn't your standard "health influencer" podcast; many of his episodes extend to three hours, and he dives deep into the science of what he's talking about. (Don't know what the ventral tegmentum is? Well, here's where you can learn.) YMMV; some of what he talks about seems a little "out there" and could arguably be called "biohacking," and that has a negative association with, like, bro science for a lot of people—but, speaking as someone who actually does my own research by reading PubMed articles (and not just, like, going on reddit) I find that whether or not a concept is new to me, he always backs it up with extensive scientific evidence from respected peer-reviewed journals, so—it works for me.
Two of the episodes I've most enjoyed are the one on alcohol's effects on the body (incredibly sobering, haha, pun intended: alcohol is terrifyingly awful for us, and I for one had no idea about most of this) and the episode on ADHD medication (I'd been having this exact conversation with my friend M, who was concerned about whether putting his daughter on meds would mean she'd have to be on meds for the rest of her life and negatively impact her down the line; the answer appears to be no). If you like going deep into the science on things or are interested in neuroplasticity, check out the podcast.
Need some new music? Here's what I've been loving recently: Journey in Satchidananda, by Alice Coltrane. Jazz and Indian classical hybrid. I had no idea who Alice Coltrane was but I'm so glad to discover her and love this album. Baby I'm a Fool, by Melody Gardot. Classic piano jazz/jazz vocals by a woman with a gorgeous voice. (Seriously, her vocal control is lovely.) Someday, by Josh Ritter. Indie/folk. What can I say about Josh Ritter that I haven't said already? This is my favorite off his latest album. Brilliant instrumentalization, wonderful vocal.

I am cat sitting, and Mom's cat Lucy is curled up on my lap, purring like mad.
The house is completely clean! I did a bit every day the past few days and somehow it feels just so lovely to have a clean well organized space.
I have enough money in the bank account to pay my condo fees. And my mortgage.
My wonderful brother had a very exciting job interview today, my wonderful sister is doing excellent at her job, my wonderful mother is loving retirement, and my wonderful father had eye surgery and is recovering nicely. Gosh, I love them.
I made a really delicious dish in the slow cooker last night (chicken, bacon, tomatoes and lentils) so I had food to eat for dinner.

Item one: Come say hi! I'm always up for conversation. And feel free to add me to your reading list if you're so inclined, even if we don't know each other—that's part of the delight of fannish relationships, meeting people we otherwise wouldn't! If you feel like it, drop me a line and let me welcome you to these parts!

Item two: Fic masterlist is here!

Item two, part a: You're more than welcome to transform those works in any way you want, be it podfic or whatever. I'm fully in favor of transformative works! Permission not required for anything I've posted publicly, but please do post it publicly if the fic in question is public, and do let me know so that I can link to your marvellous work.

Item three: I'm also known as

riverlight82 and

riverlight82; again, follow at will.

Crossposts: http://riverlight.livejournal.com/164944.html

Two days ago, sad: today, deliciously happy. Such is the roller-coaster, apparently, of this whole getting-in-touch-with-my-feelings business. What a treat to get both sides of the coin!

Yesterday I got up at 5:45 am and drove up to Albany, what is normally a 1h45 trip turned into 2h30, complete with momentarily losing vehicular control on a stretch of unplowed road and then creeping along at 40 mph on the freeway. So I was exhausted by the time I got there, and drifted along in a haze of exhaustion all day; I was in no condition to appreciate the snowstorm that was the cause of the bad driving conditions.

This morning, though? I woke up in the hotel I'd stayed at overnight, and out the window the trees were all heavy with snow, deep green conifers buried under soft drifting white. The sky was that cool pale winter blue shading to peach, the mountains cold and slate-grey rising in the distance. What glory! How beautiful! The world is so lovely, when I have the capacity to pay attention. Even the dirt and roar of the cars and the shabbiness of the hotel couldn't diminish the feeling of it, somehow: it felt tucked out of time, charmed, magical. New England in winter.

Speaking of magical: I was in Albany for my third IUI, the last one before I get to proceed to IVF again. Logically, I know the odds are very slim—between the technique, my age, and the sperm I'm using (frozen rather than fresh) I've got probably a 5% chance that I'll actually get pregnant. But 5% is not nothing, and so I can't help but feel a little glimmer of hope and excitement: it could work, after all. I know a week from now I'll have veered right back into a more realistic-slash-depressing assessment of the odds, and two weeks from now I'll have to confront the actual reality of the outcome, but right now there's enough potential that I can relish the possibility of it, at least for a night or two. It could happen, so I get to hold it close, that potential: a little shimmer of delight.

I'm feeling sad today, unaccountably; I've spent so long feeling reasonably cheerful—nay, downright happy!—that I've kind of forgotten how to deal with these for-no-reason blues.

Or—well. Real talk, it's been so long since I've unhappy while sober that I've forgotten how to deal with it. It's miserable!

I've been trying to get sober for—honestly, years. But this is the first time it feels like it's sticking, like I'm staying sober because I want to, because I've finally gotten on some deep level that booze is bad for me. It's amazing, and I'm so so so happy about it. But—well, they say in the reddit sobriety community that when you get sober you have to feel your feelings, and turns out that's true. Ugh.

You probably wouldn't know I've got an alcohol problem to look at me; I'm the epitome of high-functioning. I've got a good job and a loving family, I've never lost relationships or my health or a job. I can hardly even say "I spent a decade at the bottom of a bottle," because I didn't; in the past decade I've lived a lot of life and had a lot of adventures. But I also spent a lot of the past decade being either quietly, desperately sad, or insistently, determinedly fine, all the while wondering why I'd somehow lost the ability to feel things deeply and intensely that I had in childhood and my twenties. "I think I broke myself," I said, once, to my therapist. "I used to have a lot of feelings, but I don't seem to have those anymore."

Turns out I didn't break myself; turns out all I had to do was stop numbing my feelings out of existence. WHO KNEW.

Which is great! I'm so glad to have my ability to have emotions back, truly I am—except, well, tonight it's not the most fun thing in the world.

So I've got food on the stove and candles lit and swing jazz playing, and I made myself a cup of tea, so: I'm trying! Light, music, food, the cat: could be a lot worse.

Dreamwidth ate the post I was writing (ugh) so instead here's my entry for

snowflake_challenge .

Fannish me:

riverlight /

riverlight82 /

riverlight /

riverlight82 . I'm iffy about posting here regularly, but do try; I'm on twitter as long as That Fucker doesn't break the site, and you can pry Tumblr out of my cold dead hands. (Turns out Tumblr provides just the sort of off-the-wall, unhinged content I like, in a delightfully dopamine-hit-inducing way. It makes me happy!)

Real-Life Me: 40, single, queer. Trying to get myself knocked up, and, mostly-unrelatedly, trying to get sober. Government nerd, singer, cat lover, and major introvert.

Transormative works policy: Yes, please! Do whatever you want to whatever I've created; just let me know so I can link back!

Current passions, fannish: Again with the not being great at staying engaged, because I get distracted easily, but: 9-1-1 is a show that hits ALL my buttons: disasters and emergency management! queer characters! best friends in love! In fact, it hits my buttons so well that I can't always watch it. Other loves: The Locked Tomb Trilogy (COME YELL ABOUT HARROW AND GIDEON AND CAM AND PAL AND NONA WITH ME ON TUMBLR, omg), and Murderbot, even though I'm not writing in those fandoms.

Current passions, otherwise: Classical music, indie music, Americana music, the banjo, pedal steel guitar, countertenors… are you sensing a theme? Music, period. Reading every hour I can. Lately: sci-fi. Knitting. Cooking and becoming a better cook! My cat. Learning to draw. Spirituality, though that's a thing I don't really know how to talk about easily. Flowers and gardening. Learning to be a more whole-hearted person.

Say hi, won't you?

There are so many things that bring me joy. I have a small cat curled up on my belly, purring madly, her head tucked under and eyes closed in pure contentment. The leaves are as vivid as I've seen them in years: pure gold and amber and russet and blazing orange, glowing in the slanting autumn sunshine. What beauty! The cows in the field next door low every evening, hungry for food, and there are flocks of wild turkeys on all the roadsides. The other morning, a turkey got stuck in my garden enclosure and I had to go let him out, barefoot in the dewy grass, while he ran back and forth in panic until he was able to dart out the gate and rejoin his flock. Such beloved beautiful creatures.

I saw two raccoons crossing the road on the way to pick up my CSA, and (god be praised) didn't hit either of them with the car. This morning, Sister C. and I joined our aunt, uncle, cousin, and cousin's husband for a tromp in the woods to an old abandoned quarry: sharp blue sky and falling golden leaves, and everywhere the sharp gray stones, bones of the everlasting hills, covered in moss. Strange to think our ancestors harvested stones as a crop, but there they are in their serried ranks in the walls to the town cemetery, the mark of a prosperous New England village.

This morning, drinking my coffee, the cat curled up on my lap as she's wont to do, our early morning ritual. After ten minutes, she got up from my lap and walked across the table over to the couch, where she curled up on Sister C.'s lap: she has to get love from both her humans, after all.

Our fridge is full of veggies from the CSA, kale and spinach and the most vivid fuchsia radishes you could hope for, broccoli and squash and the last of the season's heirloom tomatoes. We'll eat the tomatoes with a pile of cottage cheese and homemade garlic mayonnaise, the favorite dish of our family. (Our grandmother was the one who started it, and of such homely things are traditions made; two generations on, we still eat tomatoes and cottage cheese, and her eggplant casserole, and her chocolate mousse.)

My wonderful mother is well and happy, and we hung out last night to watch a movie. My beloved father is well and happy, and he and his partner are coming down from Canada on Tuesday. My wonderful sister is struggling with what to do with her life but is so cheerful and positive. My favorite brother is recovering from COVID (god be praised) and is so happy because he got a new pet bunny. He named it after our dead grandfather.

It's such a simple litany of blessings: nature, and wild creatures, and ancestors, and food, and family! But truly, truly, do I need anything else?

I'm sitting out on my porch, with the cat curled up next to me and my favorite-lately band playing. The swallows and goldfinches (?) are swooping and diving in the yard, and there are crows in the trees, and everything smells like that sweet-dusty late-summer scent of grass in the sunshine. It's so lovely.

Here are some updates from the trenches:

My new job is amazing. AMAZING. You guys. I've only been there two weeks, but it's brilliant. I have a great supervisor. The org takes professional development and training really seriously. Everyone's really smart. It's just wonderful. I said to Sister C. the other day: it's amazing how much nicer my life is now that I'm not stressed all the time!
I had a brilliant two weeks of vacation after the old job and before the new one. We spent the up in the Maritimes, on the farm dad bought on the Bay of Fundy. Glorious.
I'm finally dealing with my Issues™ in therapy. Like. It's not fun. It's really not fun, but I'm glad I'm doing it. Turns out I'm a little fucked up, guys, (aren't we all?) but hopefully I can be less fucked up in my forties!
Finally (burying the lede) I went and got myself potentially knocked up yesterday. And then, hilariously, went home to have drinks/dinner with my aunt/uncle/cousins and cross-the-street neighbors, to discover that my sister had shared my day's activities with the whole crowd. Family I'm cool with, but apparently now my neighbors also know the details of my attempts to get pregnant! I'm honestly not that bothered—I don't really have shame around any of this, and am all for normalizing discussion of fertility in general—but I do wonder if they found it a little awkward!

Plus: New job, new job! I got the job with the org I've wanted to work for since 2018. They're hugely excited about me, which feels great. It's fully remote, a raise in salary, great benefits, great management… and I'll likely get to work with Colleague M. again, which is just bonkers. I'm so excited!
Minus: I am 110% mentally checked out of my current job, even though I have lots and lots and lots to do before I can officially resign.
Plus: I had my final monitoring appointment for IVF today. They saw 11 follicles, plus a bunch more smaller ones they didn't count. This is reasonably good, I think! My egg retrieval is Monday. In theory, I could be looking at 2 mature embryos if all goes well! (Of course, there's all sorts of "if" coming off this plan, as M. used to say, but I'm feeling cautiously optimistic.) My mom is driving me to Albany for the retrieval. I kind of love it. My mom, taking her single almost-40-year-old daughter to get knocked up with donor sperm from a friend.
Minus: Turns out steroids dull the headache pain significantly enough I turn into a real human being again! …However, they won't let me have steroids long-term. They're trying another headache med next. I guess that's a plus? Who knows. I liked being human again. Ugh.
Plus: There's a red-wing blackbird pecking at crumbs at the outdoor coffee shop I'm at. And this morning I was driving behind a car with a very happy German Shepherd hanging out the window.
Minus: Did I mention my current job? In addition to general transition work, my boss has given me a very particular assignment that is both a) high priority and b) necessary. And for whatever reason I just cannot make myself work on it. It's like I'm having some sort of, like, moral block about it. I cannot force myself to do it. She's already had to shoulder so many burdens on my behalf because of my headaches, I feel like I ethically can't go to her and be like "look, I'm not doing it," so… I'm stuck. Ugh.
Plus: Long weekend this weekend, though. I'm going to work really hard all day and then honestly take the day off!

Today, I absolutely must:

~~Follow up with the Executive Director and the Potential Manager at Potential New Workplace to express interest in either (!) of the roles they're hopefully going to offer me~~
~~Talk to Colleague M. about the roles (one of which would involve… collaboration with him, yay! It truly is a small world)~~

Today, I really should:

~~Set up an appointment with the headache specialist~~
~~Follow up with the neurologist~~
~~Track down and upload my MRI films for the neurologist~~
~~Make a chiropractor appointment~~
~~Follow up with the emergency room to dispute a bill~~
Submit reimbursement claims for my IVF meds
Follow up on other health insurance reimbursements
Harass TurboTax about refunds
Upload my IVF consent forms

Tomorrow:

Acupuncture appointment
Physical therapy appointment
Drop off package from dad to mom
Book my California flight
UH FIRST IVF STIMS WHAT

Today I Have:

Finally had an appointment with my new primary care physician (made the appointment in February, saw her today)—she's ordering a full tick-borne illness panel, whew
Made a follow-up appointment with the neurologist I saw in January
Sent the accountant all my info so he can finally file my 2021 taxes (don't worry, celli , I filed for an extension!)
Ordered the last meds I need to officially start my first IVF cycle next weekend
Lent my mom the car (because she lent hers to my brother… uh, families are weird?)
Reached out to connect with several wonderful friends
Dealt with two separate instances of health insurance reimbursement paperwork

Today I Have Not:

Done the work I need to do.

Why is capitalism? Maybe this is Peak Millennial of me, but—why don't I get credit for all the hard things I do that aren't work? I ask you!

(I've been reading

annehelen 's books on a) millennial burnout and b) the post-COVID return-to-office culture (yes, simultaneously) and they're doing that thing that good cultural commentary does best—making me question the beliefs and attitudes I hold as self-evident. One of the themes she keeps touching upon is how millennials have this focus on how hard Adulting is, and how unusual that is compared to past generations, and, oh, isn't that weird? Boomers and past generations have this "oh, those silly snowflake millennials" attitude, right? But (she continues) the fact is that the focus on efficiency! and just-in-time manufacturing! and lean operations! among corporations in the post-war (and especially post 1980s) period means that in fact life is harder; that the reality of being an adult in the world these days is more difficult (per certain metrics) than it used to be, because all the mundane tasks of daily life that involve corporations (i.e. every one, these days) have been "optimized" so much that they force people to jump through hoop after hoop. So millennials' sense of the world is not, in fact, off base.)

So. In other words: why shouldn't I get credit for everything I did today?

Especially since I had a great job interview yesterday—seriously, it was fun!—so all things considered, surely this is ok?

So I just offered my resignation at work.

With much trepidation, I emailed my boss in advance of our scheduled one-on-one. "Due to ongoing health and family reasons, I need to transition to another role," I said, "and want to figure out how best to do that."

A deeply anxiety-inducing email to send, naturally! But I hit "send" and then there was no taking it back. And she was lovely about it. Obviously a bit thrown, and she admitted she doesn't want me to leave, but 10000% the best response I could have hoped for. It's clear she really means it when she says my health and family have to come first.

I'm going to return to CA in person for at least July, with August TBD. We're going to work on a transition plan so that I get my program in as good shape as possible and so that she can hire a replacement for me.

What makes me feel guilty and sad is that she made it really, really clear that she is bummed I'm leaving and wants me to know she 100% knows I've been in a rough patch the last six months, that they've been really hard, but that she 100% knows those six months are not a measure of my worth or capability. "It's probably done a number on your self-esteem!" she said, and I agreed it had. And while I think anyone can indeed do my job in broad strokes, I do have a skillset that might not be easy to replicate in the short term. "I want to be clear I have full faith in your ability to do this job and have not been trying to push you out," she said. So I feel guilty!

But… it's done. I'm not looking forward to telling other colleagues, but… it's done. So.

Aaah.

I ended up leaving the office yesterday at noon to go to urgent care for a migraine cocktail. The headache wasn’t dire – only about a four or five on the pain scale – but I just couldn’t concentrate or do any work because the pain just never stops. My boss was lovely and drove me to urgent care.

The actual migraine cocktail didn’t really help at all, I was still in pain and nauseous, but I figured: OK, I’ll take the rest of the day off and sleep. So I got home yesterday at 2 o’clock, slept for four hours, got up and had dinner and read for a while, and then slept for nine more hours.

And now I I am back in bed. It’s 9:15 in the morning and I got up and took a shower, and then had to lie down for a while, and then got up to get dressed, and then had to lie back down. At that point I told my boss I was going to be out again. It’s the last thing I want to do, given what dire straits my work programs are in, but I don’t see that I have any choice. I’m contemplating getting up to take off my jeans, but it feels like too much effort.

So: great. That’s definitely not normal.

In good news, I have two separate job interviews, one and one Monday. I guess that means that the only thing I get to do between now and then is sleep and prep for the interviews? Surely I can manage that.

I feel like I've spent most of my posts here recently complaining. But.

( Cut for talk of depression. )

I know I'm borrowing trouble—getting angsty over something that hasn't even happened yet.

But.

All I want is for my supervisor to say, "Yes, I see how hard you're working, I see how much you're doing trying to juggle so many balls." Instead I'm afraid all I'm going to get is "Your program is in trouble; why haven't you done x,y,x?"

It's just so damn demoralizing to work a full day (8.5 hours) on one major project, and to know that I have to spend more hours this evening on the other balls in the air, and to suspect that when she sees my time tracking log she'll say "well, that shouldn't have taken you so long."

And, yes, this is totally pre-panicking. I'mr reacting to a situation that hasn't happened yet! But. Ugh. I hate this.

So… I think I'm going to quit my job.

I've talked about this a lot here, how unhappy I've been. I had yet another conversation with my boss today, in which it became very clear that the executives above me are very unhappy with the situation. Since my direct reports are unhappy and I'm unhappy, it's becoming really clear to me that this job is just not a good fit for me. My manager—to her credit—has been excellent as a manager; she's really given me a huge insight into what it means to be a supportive, thoughtful leader who works to meet the needs of both the organization and her employees.

Anyway, we had a great discussion about staffing when I was in CA last week; we talked about the organization in general and what my unit needs in particular, and how we need to staff up and reorganize the broader division my boss manages. There was a lot in there about potential roles for me, and how I might fit in. But given the ongoing unhappiness—

( Tl;dr: I'm planning to meet with my manager to say I think we both know I'm not a good fit for my role and to propose we come up with a transition plan where I'll leave at the end of summer. )

Anyway, I'd love feedback if y'all are so inclined.

( CW for discussion of gun violence )

Work. I officially got notice my out-of-state telework authorization expires July 1. So I have to either go back to CA or find a new job by then.
Since there's nothing I'd like better than to quit my job immediately and run away so I don't have to think about it anymore, it's pretty clear what direction I want to go.
I just had an informational interview with a former employer who has a job opening that I'm thinking of applying for; it went about as well as could be hoped. He encouraged me to apply, and also mentioned there might be consulting work or the possibility of another role.
And I've applied to so many interesting jobs! I just have to… deal with the uncertainty of not knowing if or when I'll get another role. My sister really doesn't want me to quit without something else lined up (fair, since I'm on the hook for half of our shared mortgage) but the day-to-day reality of my job is pretty miserable, and I'm ready to leave. There's six weeks to go until July 1… surely if I give my notice on June 1 I can get through six weeks… right?
Spirituality. On the other hand, I'm pretty clear that there are lessons here I need to learn, about—oh, balancing work and life, and following through on things I commit to, and how to bear up under challenging circumstances. So if I run away, I'm choosing to run away from those lessons, too and they'll just have to come back at me in some other way… how do I know when I've done enough and it's okay to move on? Patience is hard! But then again, the whole point of cultivating spiritual virtues is that it is work, and… guess this is what part of "living out my values" means; if I want to be committed to spiritual values, I kinda have to do it when things are hard, not just when they're easy. So I get to be patient in this tough situation, because this is my reality right now, and I have to do the best I can with it.

Life. In the hopes of figuring out the career ~stuff~, I've been doing the Designing Your Life book/workbook combo, which J. recommended. And it turns out it's quite useful good stuff! The step I just completed was figuring out where I am, on the principle you can't know where you're going if you don't know where you are. And, I was pleasantly surprised to see, when I sat down to put it on paper, that work aside, the rest of my life is doing pretty well. I'm making local friends! I'm engaging with things I find joyful (art) and making effort to continue to do so (music, choir). I'm in good health and working to actively improve that. I've got lots of love from family and friends! Compared to where I was a year or two ago—just as stressed about work but also actively alcoholic, deeply depressed, nowhere near close to getting pregnant, living across the country from my family, doing my best but struggling hard—it's nice to recognize the progress.

I'm so angry and despairing about the Supreme Court leak around Roe. I'm terrified for all the women who need abortions. I'm terrified for the potential impact on gay sex, gay marriage, and interracial marriage. My dear friend S., a lawyer, tells me at least Loving was rooted in the 13th amendment and so is safe, and gay marriage is "dicey" because it was decided on stare decisis.
Someday I'll shift into action mode, but right now I'm in full-on rage at conservatives mode.
I just paid for $800 of IVF medications. What the hell am I doing bringing a child into this world? There's climate disaster, financial precarity, the increased slide into authoritarianism. I know any child I have will be less secure than I am, will have less of a chance to live a happy life. And yet I'm doing it anyway.

I suppose part of it is my spiritual tradition; I believe in the best in humanity, that we're motivated towards good, that human action is what's needed to steer us all towards goodness. And perhaps a child I bring into this world will help with that.

But, man, it feels hopeless some days.

I need to find a spiritual community. It can get so lonely, without a community to bear up together in the hard times. (I say, though I've never had that, not truly.) But it's also hard; how can I find a community, knowing that no matter who they are, I'm unlikely to find my own beliefs reflected in their communal tradition, and so even if I find commonality I'll always be on the outside?

This is a despairing post, today.

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