It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write. Sometimes I go through phases when I barely write at all, which is hard when so much of my identity is in being a writer. I envy the kinds of writers who go up to their lovely writing lofts every day and write for hours and hours. I’m just not that kind of writer, I guess. I thrive on creative bursts, so when creativity is lacking, I have a hard time forcing it. I’m not very disciplined. But today I’m finally sitting down to get words on the page.
So what have I been up to?
I’m not working right now. For a while, this was a struggle for me. I felt a sense of purposeless, of failure. Jobs I applied for didn’t work out, which was impactful on my self-esteem. I struggled with questions like: Am I not good enough? Why doesn’t anyone want me? What am I even good at? And then I got pregnant. Since I’m planning to stay home with the baby, I didn’t want to start a job that I’d be leaving in a few months. So I decided to stop the job search and to just wait for the baby. But here’s the thing: waiting turned out to be very hard. I felt the purposelessness very keenly, very acutely. I began to wonder: What is my purpose? How do I bring meaning into my life? Continue reading “Searching for Purpose”
“What can I do?”
That’s a difficult question to answer when you’re depressed. You want to say a magical formula—“do this for me and I’ll feel better”—but there isn’t one. You want to be able to respond positively since you’re grateful for the care that went into that question, but you can’t. You even feel a little guilty that you can’t give a satisfying response.
“What can I do?” is probably the best question my husband can ask me when I’m depressed. It’s unassuming and empathetic. It’s also incredibly frustrating, because sometimes there just isn’t anything he can do. But what else is he supposed to say? I guess I’m glad he asks it, even when I don’t know how to respond.
I was recently asked what depression feels like. I didn’t know how to answer. I told my friend that it it’s a physical feeling, a heaviness—if hopelessness was tactile, that would be it. I didn’t know how else to describe it, except in obscure metaphors that might only make sense to me.
So it’s difficult to answer “what can I do?” when I can’t even articulate what my depression feels like. Usually, I end up answering the question with: “Just pray for me.” Sometimes, that’s the only answer I have. Continue reading “Pray for me”
She told us there was no heartbeat. She said it matter-of-factly, in a quiet apologetic voice. I felt my stomach instantly drop, emotion immediately clogging my throat. I wanted to tell her to check again—oh, please, please check again. I could see it right there on the screen, right there in front of me. How could the baby be dead?
Continue reading “The Heartbreak Prayer: Miscarriage”
My husband and I love Amazon Prime. We’d rather push a button and wait for two days for something to arrive at our door than drive fifteen minutes to pick that something up from the store that day.
Once, he decided to get me an Instant Pot for my birthday. (For all of those who don’t know, Instant Pot = amazing.) We joked that we were being too lazy lately, and we decided to actually get up and go to an actual store to buy it. But after going to three stores that were all out of the size we wanted, we ended up typing it in “search” and hitting “buy now.” So much easier! And, voila, we had it in two days just by tapping a few keys on the keyboard. My prediction is that Amazon will one day rule the world and you’ll have me to thank for that.
Sometimes I catch myself imagining prayer to be something like Amazon Prime.
Continue reading “Anxiety and Amazon Prayers”