Dinner

I’m not really sure what happened tonight.

Maybe I just reached my limit.

Between the loud rain on the drive to the restaurant, the constant braking of cars, and the noise level once we got there, my body never really stood a chance. I was tense the entire ride.

And that frustrated me more than anything.

I wanted to have a nice dinner.

And we did, technically.

But it was a nice dinner that existed alongside me internally melting down, putting all my energy into masking and trying to hold myself together.

When I got home,

I just immediately took every article of clothing off my body, lit some incense, kept the bathroom lights off, and sank into a hot bath.

That helped.

A lot, actually.

But I’m still feeling deeply depleted.

I already know I’m not going to feel like I have the energy to donate plasma tomorrow, but I’m going to do it anyway. I’ll rest on Friday after work. I don’t think I have anything planned then… unless I’m forgetting something. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

What’s hardest is wanting to do more and having to face the reality that I just don’t have the capacity, not without taking everything out of myself to do it.

I can’t stay on Klonopin for the rest of my life just to get through dinners, coffees, or grocery trips.

I wanted tonight to feel like bonding.

I wanted it to feel warm and connecting.

Instead, it felt like endurance. Like I was just trying not to fall apart.

It is what it is, I guess.

Next time, I’ll be more mindful. I won’t plan anything for a few days beforehand.

Author’s Note:

I read an article not too long ago by Christabel Mintah-Galloway, who wrote about her decision not to cut her mom off, even though her mom wasn’t fully understanding or accepting of her queerness. She wrote about choosing to show up authentically anyway, and allowing her mom to know her. That piece stayed with me. I held it close.

Yesterday, while I was on the phone with my mom, I mentioned the queer book club I was on my way to. The article about showing up authentically and allowing your parent to know you, was in my mind when I shared that with her. Tonight at dinner, something in me softened when she followed up and asked how it went. My heart melted a little. I don’t think she has any idea how much that question meant to me, but I think it’s important I let her know.