It’s so spooky to be doing all the everyday things like working and going to the store to buy hazelnuts and grapefruit while also watching this shitshow unfold in LA (and the whole world) and wondering if the governor of California is arrested, will we be under martial law? I emailed my new physical therapist to say that I’m kind of stuck and could use a little more direction and then I thought about messaging her back to say that I understand in the scope of things this isn’t really a problem, and I feel ridiculous for even bringing it up. We have to work and shop and take care of ourselves, but this discord and sustained outrage is feeling like just too much all the time. And I don’t even watch the news on TV, I just listen to the radio and read a couple of things online.

I’m working on self-portraiture again this year with a mentor/friend/goddess and a small group of open, lovely, smart, insightful people. Weirdly, or maybe not, it doesn’t feel like turning away from the world to focus on myself. It feels more like connecting. I don’t always have the language for it, but that’s fine. It’s fine.

I’m at the start of a big life transition—the one where all my kids live somewhere else. The closer it gets, the more I have dreams of them as babies. Last night it was Sophie, she was about 2 years old. We were waiting in the car while Scuba popped in to grab groceries and she was unhappy in her carseat so I unbuckled her and she climbed into my lap, all sweaty in her little blanket footie pajamas. I unzipped them and pulled the sleeves off and she had on this little onsie that I remember so well, even though it was plain. She hugged me and put her little sweaty head on my chest and fell asleep, and I maybe knew it was a dream, partly, because I was so still and quiet so i wouldn’t wake her up. In my dream I knew this was the good stuff, that weight of one of my babies sleeping against me that I miss so much. When I opened my eyes, there was still a weight on my chest, but less. It was just the comforter, kind of piled on me. I imagine I gathered it up in my sleep and pulled it onto me.

So yeah. Transition stuff. Sad stuff. Kinda lonely stuff. But also getting to know myself better, figure out where I can be useful, see what kind of feelings I can capture in a photo that might resonate with someone else.