Genetic Disorders and a Rant About Patriarchal Bullshit

A few weeks ago, I found out that I have a genetic disorder that puts me at markedly higher risk for reproductive and colon cancers. As a result, 10 years earlier than someone without this disorder, I have to start getting colonoscopies. I also have a hunch that really invasive pap smears are in my future. Instead of once every 5-10 years for colonoscopies, I have to get one every one to two years. Also, I may be a candidate for a hysterectomy. I'll know more when I go to the doctor about it in November, but that's the preview that the genetic counselor I've been seeing gave to me.

Except, probably not. If I'm given the option between keeping my baby box and not, I'd opt not if given the option. Except I probably won't be given the option because I'm still of childbearing age. It is of literally no consequence to me whatsoever whether or not I have a uterus, but if I say that to a doctor, that likely won't matter. Unless I see a childfree-friendly doctor, the decision about this isn't actually going to be mine about when I get to make this decision if I'm ever a candidate for it, which I will be one day.

Do you know the one thing, the one thing that fills me absolutely so full of rage that I am almost blinded by it? That if I want to have any kind of reproductive surgery - salpingectomy, hysterectomy, whatever it is, even if there's a health risk for me to not do it, I have to get my husband's permission, and even then, if the doctor doesn't feel comfortable doing it, then it won't happen.

My risk of uterine cancer is double what it would be if I didn't have this disorder. My risk of ovarian cancer is nearly doubled. My risk of colorectal cancer is more than doubled. But let's make sure that I can have those kids that I've never wanted, and that my husband gives me his permission first before my decision about my body for my own health and safety can be honored, and then only maybe.

This chafes my ass for two reasons: First, it's patriarchal bullshit, through and through. Absolutely. Second, what happened to the Hippocratic oath? First, do no harm? How does it benefit me to keep my baby box, especially if doing so could cause me a marked amount of suffering in the future? And, why does that decision about my body actually rest with my spouse and my doctor? Why isn't that decision mine?

I go back to patriarchal bullshit. I'm trying not to get preemptively mad about it, but I'm finding it difficult. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe the doctor that I see will be more childfree-friendly. Maybe they won't see it as a huge worry right now and thrusting myself into menopause at 40 won't be the best idea (though it would not be entirely unwelcome, I'll tell you that) for reasons that I haven't thought of, and I'm sure there are several. Who knows. I'll continue to stew about it until mid-November, which is when my first appointment is.

I will say, though, thank goodness for finding this out early before anything happens. I'm surprisingly chill about it, but I think it's more about the fact that I literally can't do anything about it - it's written in my genes - so why panic? I'm sure the panic will set in when I have to have a colonoscopy for the first time (I've heard that it's a colossally unpleasant experience) or any other number of medical procedures that I may have to have as a result of this diagnosis.

You know what I keep thinking about that, though? It won't be chemo. There's certainly something to be said about that.

The Biggest Benefit of Online Yoga and Yelling

Let me tell you, friends. I am SO happy that I have started yoga again. I am also very happy that I'm doing half online and half in person every week, and let me tell you why: The in-person classes are a true exercise in impulse control. I make this more meaningful because in the online classes, my screen is off and I'm muted, so I swear at that teacher like a sailor. I yell at them sometimes and it is SO CATHARTIC I CAN'T EVEN. I can't do that in in-person classes (I'm not one for talking all that much while I'm trying to do yoga - it's hard enough without conversation), and so I have to really be mindful of what comes out of my mouth. I did let an f-word slip a week or so ago in an in-studio class and the instructor laughed pretty hard, but they were making me do a side plank and SIDE PLANK IS THE DEVIL.

This is side plank. I don't actually look anything like this when I'm doing it because I'm still so clumsy.

Today, I took a core yoga class. It's murderously hard, but I never fail to feel better afterward. (It also helps that I wasn't having a massive reaction to red meat this time, so I was actually able to participate without nearly barfing.) I really like the teacher, and unexpectedly, he had us go to side plank from down dog. Terrible. That was when I started swearing. Then, shockingly, I yelled - "YOU CAN'T JUST TELL US TO DO A SIDE PLANK WITH NO WARNING! WHO DOES THAT? WHAT ARE YOU - A F&#CKING SADIST? YOU ARE THE WORST. AND FROM DOWN DOG OF ALL POSITIONS. YOU SUCK."

Luckily I was muted and I didn't have video on. I still have yet to do a successful side plank, but I'm getting there. I was actually able to take my knees off of the floor for a couple of seconds each side, so that ain't nothing.

I'm getting stronger every time I do a class, and I'm finding that the more accepting of myself and present that I am in these classes, the more accepting I am of myself in general, which feels really nice. I desperately needed some time to just...put everything away, and now three to five times a week for an hour or so, I do just that. I'm more productive, I feel more effective, and I just...feel better.

I'm also more tolerant of my asshole dogs who decide, without fail, that while I'm in yoga is the perfect time to wrestle. I've learned to tune it out, so that's also nice. Also, I'm taking the good with the bad, because they've started cuddling and it's basically the cutest thing ever.

Also, Miles loves yoga mats and Ruby loves peeing on yoga mats, so I've found myself being more careful about things. She also loves chewing yoga blocks and does the best up dog I've ever seen in my whole life. I'm jealous of her form.

He's ready for yoga class to start now, please. He also uses certain positions when he takes the opportunity to unabashedly lick my face or the bottoms of my feet because he's super helpful and hilarious.

 

Another funny thing that has happened is that I changed my profile picture on Zoom to my bitmoji, and I forgot that I did that and now it's my picture for yoga class. I went to sign up for the 20% off deal that they have once the one-month membership is up, and the person that I emailed with about it was like "Your Zoom picture makes me smile every time!"

So, self-care is going great, currently. I've got some things coming down the pike that may make the wheels fall off the wagon, but I'm already seeing how temporary it is because the semester ends in four weeks, so I'll have every Thursday off starting in early December through the end of January, and no, I'm absolutely not filling that time, even in the short-term. I am STOKED.

Meeting Myself Where I Am

It's hard to meet yourself where you are, and it's a pretty consistent struggle for me. I always have this impulse (not instinct - I thought it was for a long time, but it's not) to just push through no matter what I'm feeling. Yes, it's hard, but this too shall pass, so I might as well just buckle down and do it now.

This may be a great strategy for some, but it turns out that it's a TERRIBLE strategy for me. I'm finding that more adaptive ways are creeping in, and it's feeling REALLY empowering. For instance, I don't wait more than 15 minutes for a client to come on to a Zoom call. That was where it started, actually. I found myself sitting here and waiting and how long do I wait and should I wait the whole hour? I had a REALLY resounding "no" happening and I paid full attention to it from minute one. I've had a few people push back, but what I say is that this is regular therapy, even if it's a different medium, and so the same rules apply as they would if we were meeting in-person, which either includes being on time for session or letting me know if you're going to be late.

It has also started to happen with yoga class. There were a few times the first week where I was just...not mentally there. So I didn't push it. I was going along great, and then today (right this minute, actually) happened.

I tried a new teacher today, and I was hopeful - all of the other teachers that I've taken classes with have been GREAT. They're gentle but they also push and it's just the balance I need. I signed on this morning fully expecting to take a class with one of those teachers, and someone else came in as a sub unexpectedly. "Ok," I told myself; "I'll have an open mind about this. This won't be bad."

Oh, friends. Today is where I learned the lesson that not every yoga teacher is a good fit. She talked for the first fifteen minutes of class. Ridiculous. I don't need to hear your internal narrative about life, lady. I do that for my day job, and I didn't come to yoga class to hear it all over again. NO THANKS. But then we started to get into the poses and SHE DIDN'T STOP TALKING. I have the video muted because I don't want to be totally rude and just sign off of the Zoom call, but I guarantee that if I unmuted it, she'd still be gabbing away.

What I'm also positive about, along with the fact that she's not a good fit for me, is that it's also partly me. I have to acknowledge that because I see 10 clients on Tuesdays, Wednesdays are probably not the best day for me to do yoga. I've tried the past two Wednesdays and struggled to the point of not being able to get through a class each time. There's a pattern here, and I have to acknowledge that where I am in my head is a large part of that.

But still. There's a time for talking and a time for not, Lady. 

Joyous Exertion

 Friends, starting yoga again was potentially the best thing I've done for myself in years.

The first week was hard. Like, really hard. I couldn't concentrate because of the dogs, and the in-person classes that I went to were really hard. I also found every possible reason to fail and blamed those things for my failure rather than trying my hardest and sticking it out. The dogs were playing too loud and I couldn't concentrate. Ruby had to constantly pee. Then she would whine when I put her in her pen with 15 different toys and a jar of peanut butter (not really, but that's what it felt like). Then the room was too cold. Then Ruby peed on my yoga mat and that was all I could smell even after I cleaned it thoroughly. Then the room was too hot. Then I had no clean yoga pants. Then the room was too cold again. The floor was too hard. My feet kept slipping when I got sweaty and now I have this thing going on with my big toes because I depend on them too much in the more common poses. Then Miles insisted on licking my face for the entirety of shavasana that one time. Then Rob didn't stop the dogs from playing and have a VERY energetic 9-year-old dog and a 5-month old puppy sit still for 90 minutes and that's a totally reasonable expectation so WHY CAN'T HE DO IT. 

The thing about it was that I was scared. Of what? I don't know. Having more mobility? having more physical ability? An opportunity to not just sit my ass in a chair all day every day? Having to buy cute workout pants? That nothing will change in spite of my efforts (which is patently untrue, even two weeks later as I'm typing this)? The most unfortunate part of this was I spent a week being mad at my dogs and my husband in ways that they certainly did not deserve. 

Then I did another week and it got a little easier. I found out the hard way that red meat is on the no no list for me and then in the middle of all of that and tried to do a Core yoga class while having a pretty bad reaction to it, which turned out to not be the most helpful decision ever.

Then Friday happened. I changed my scenery a little bit by doing yoga in my living room instead of my office, and I think that was one small change that made it instantly easier. I pushed myself to do all of the poses and move through the vinyasas, and it just felt...easier.

Then came my class that I went to in-person Saturday. I told myself that I was going to push myself this time. I wasn't going to automatically revert to child's pose if I thought I couldn't do it - I was going to do basically the yoga equivalent of a "no thank you" bite. You know what happened? I DID IT. ALL OF IT. It wasn't easy, and I sweat a lot and swore to myself a lot and I almost fell a couple of times, but I did it. To say I felt amazing was an understatement. I'd moved my body in ways it hasn't seen in years, and I felt so accomplished and amazing.

Then came yesterday. I was doing my class online and it was the same type of class as the in-person one from Saturday, a Flow class. I love flow classes! It was with a different teacher and I was doing it at home and I felt a little nervous because I'd never taken a class with this teacher before, but I was going to tough it out. This teacher was basically satan (not really, but I sure swore at her a lot.). My legs hurt so bad today, and I left that class mad that it was so hard. But I did it. Every bit of it. Even Lizard Pose, which is basically the worst pose in the history of yoga poses. Also, you can't see it in this picture, but that front leg comes down and away from the body. HOW DOES ONE EVEN CONTORT THEIR BODY THIS WAY AND HAVE IT STILL FEEL GOOD? I suspect I will never know the answer to this question. BONKERS. AND THEN THERE'S THE FLYING LIZARD POSE IN WHICH YOU COME UP ON YOUR ARMS. YOUR ARMS, PEOPLE! 

What I've discovered is that I totally have a mental block about exercise of any kind, even if it's fun and I like it, and yoga fits very much into this category. I start off with the assumption that I can't do it, so I shouldn't even try, and then the wheels fall off the wagon from there. What I love about yoga is that you can meet yourself exactly where you are - no assumptions, no judgment. If you're in a mental place to push yourself a little further, great! But it's not a requirement. There's no pressure whatsoever to do something you can't/shouldn't or be someone you're not. 

What I've realized is that my block around exercise is totally, totally mental. I used to think that the problem was that I had this mentality of "what does it matter?" and while that thinking is problematic in and of itself, the actual root of that problem weed was that I start with the assumption that I can't do it. I can't do it and I'm going to give it up in frustration at some point anyway, so what does it matter? I was quitting before I even started! And then, if it got hard, my assumption that I couldn't do it was confirmed - see? I can't do it! I have been trapped in total black-and-white thinking about my ability to exercise for probably my entire life. Hello, gray area, very nice to meet you in this area of my life finally. I see you like the word "yet" at the end of my problematic thought here and that's uncomfortable for me, but it's getting easier. I appreciate your arrival and hope that you stay.

The moment you realize you're trapped in a problematic cycle of thinking is the moment you become freer from it, to a point. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one, is what I'm saying. The thing is, I've known for years that I was trapped in this cycle, but I couldn't dig into the "yeah, but what's really happening here" underneath the "what does it matter" thought. I knew there was something there underneath it, but for some reason, I wasn't able to access it. Yoga helped me access that assumption that I can't do it and start to challenge it.

I'm not to the generalizing part of it yet, and I'm hoping I'll get there. I want to start running again and I want to mentally be able to tolerate hiking (what I've discovered is that it's about the pressure of summiting that I hate about it, so that's a step, even if I don't know what I want to do with that information yet), but I'm not there for either of those things yet. It's a process, as all things are.

Yoga and Other Shenanigans

 Friends, to say that I live a sedentary lifestyle would be an understatment. I sit in the same chair every day for anywhere from 8-11 hours, then I go downstairs, park my butt on the couch, and don't move until it's time to go to bed.

Literally.

Then this thing happened with my schedule where I'm suddenly free every morning. My temptation was to fill it and when the referrals didn't pan out, I saw it for the sign that it was and decided to use this morning time to get my fitness in at least some semblance of order. Or at least have a little bit of it.

I also just wanted to add some movement back into my life, so I decided to sign back up with the yoga studio I used to be a part of the first time we lived in this city. I loved that place! I also hadn't done yoga in a startlingly long time but have historically found it to be very beneficial to my wellbeing. Things have changed there, as they have changed everywhere, and so they offer online versions of the classes - they Zoom them in real time or you can go to the class if it isn't full. I opted to go for the online classes first to see how I did.

This was a no good, terrible, very bad idea for two reasons:

The first day, Monday, I was stoked. I was ready, I had my yoga mat, and my blocks and strap were elsewhere but whatever I probably wouldn't need them (spoiler alert: I did, in fact, need them), and I was READY. The class ran for an hour and fifteen minutes. Because of the dogs and how loud and wrestly they are, I got maybe 30 minutes in and ended it so frustrated that I was like "nope. This isn't going to work." But silly me, I tried it again this morning. I planned to put Ruby in her pen, Miles is on drugs anyway from his surgery yesterday so he's pretty docile (and has been resting on my rug all morning), so I should be good.

Except I brought Ruby out for her morning outside time to poop, and she didn't. We stayed out there for 20 minutes. She didn't. The second I brought her in, she started doing the poop dance and started to squat on the living room rug. So I brought her out again. Still nothing even though we stayed out there, again, for a good long time. I was like "you know what? Whatever." I started class late, and then I went to work. About 15 minutes in, I steal a glance Ruby's way, and she's doing the poop dance and squat again. I rush her out of her pen and bring her outside for literally 30 minutes. Nothing.

What an asshole.

So I brought her back in, but by that point, I was toast mentally. There was no way I was going to re-engage.

So for those of you keeping count, of 2 and a half hours of yoga classes so far, I've fully attended and been present for 45 minutes. I have my doubts that I will get through a full class this week, and I'm signed up every day through Saturday. If I don't, that will tell me a lot about my ability to be present and to be able to problem-solve, both of which have not been my strong suit lately. What it also tells me is that I need more undisturbed alone time to do something just for myself, because as of right now I have none. It's nobody's fault, it's just how it is.

So, I'm going back through my reservations and I'm changing the ones I can to in-person and I'm going to physically go to the class and get myself out of this house. Also, fun fact: It will be like the second time I've left my house all week. That very much needs to change, so maybe this is also the way that will happen.

Time to go shake it off.

Resorting to Grad School Tactics

Friends, I got myself a Kitchenaid mixer this weekend. I had given my old one to my mom, and definitely not wanting to take it back (she needs to make her magical cupcakes even if I can't eat them!), I just decided to bite the bullet and get one, especially since I had gift cards and it'd be super cheap (like half the price) and exactly what I wanted. (This is related, I promise.)

Perhaps also, it's no surprise that I've been feeling overwhelmed lately. Like, verge of tears all yesterday and giving myself some time to eventually just cry it all out for a little while kind of overwhelmed. It's a new semester, Rob is about to go back to school, my caseload has ramped up again, we have a new puppy, and Miles is really starting to show his age (although he has more stamina than the puppy, so maybe not?). He broke a tooth, which is going to result in some surgery within the next week or two to be sure, which I'm already afraid of because he's nine and I'm not sure how he'll tolerate it, so, I'm just stressing about it.  Plus I have the second half of my EMDR training coming up in two weeks, and I'm just...tired.

Since the semester has started, teaching-wise, I'm finding myself setting goals around being as communicative as possible with my students because I've fallen short in previous semesters and I really want to be better about it. I also want to get my grading done in as timely a manner as possible. I know that everyone is overwhelmed and as a result (at least in the program that I'm teaching), more understanding, which is a blessing because I know that not everyone is that way. I know that I'm harder on myself than any of my students would even think of being, but still. I want to be better about it.

That being said, I had this shiny new mixer and I have also set the personal goal for myself to master gluten-free vegan bread and desserts by the end of 2020. If I can do that, I can be gluten-free forever (which is good, because I kind of have to be). I really, really want to bake some bread. I also have grading to do, which I don't want to do, because I want to bake bread.

So, when I was in grad school, if there was an assignment I really didn't want to do, I would give myself some motivation to do it by giving myself a prize at the end. For a while, it was candy. For a while, it was hanging out with friends, or going to get myself something nice. This is what it was, mostly. Candy was just a nice stepping stone, as it always is. I also did this at the end of each term - just for getting through it, I'd get myself a balboa sub and a beer at my favorite local restaurant. Sometimes I'd go out by myself, sometimes with others, but it was a four-times-a-year tradition where I was like "all I have to do is get through it. By just reaching the end, I'll get it, no matter how the semester turns out." Then if I got the grades I wanted, I'd get myself something extra, but I needed a proverbial carrot. I tried managing myself with the proverbial stick for a really long time and all that ended up in was me barely graduating college and being so much worse for the wear than I could have been. That rigidity and being so hard on myself is also what kept me in a major that I shouldn't have been in and barreling forward in a career that I knew deep down I didn't want, and it's not lost on me that I could be 9 years younger right now career-wise if I'd just gotten my shit together and majored in psychology like I actually wanted to. Beating myself up was not getting me anywhere, and I made the intentional choice to do it differently in grad school. It paid off in spades because I learned a much more valuable lesson - one of self-compassion. If I couldn't sit down and write that paper today, that's ok, but no carrot. I would get the carrot when it's done, no matter when that happens.

I lost sight of this tactic when I started teaching - it just didn't stick for some reason. So, I resorted back to the stick method as a teacher and as a counselor, and it wasn't getting me anywhere but closer to burnout and farther away from the motivation that I needed. When COVID hit, I was so rigid with myself because I wanted to have as much stability as I could for my students and my clients, and if I couldn't do that, I was failing, even though it was a really hard situation for me too. I just wouldn't (not couldn't - I'm fully aware of how willful this was and still is) acknowledge my own hardship.

This has been a really hard summer. Probably one of my hardest overall. What I love about fall is that it's this chance for all of that to fade away in order to clear the way to start anew. It's my favorite time of year, and I can't wait for the things that I learn along the way as I cultivate these renewed habits.

Also hanging out with these two adorable and sweet buddies won't be so bad either. :)

Such a Thing as Too Much Resiliency?

It's an interesting question, I think. At what point does resiliency turn to just flat out ignoring your feelings about what's going on? There's definitely a line there and I know that for me, I don't even know that I've crossed it when it has happened. But, once I realize I've crossed it, it's MUCH harder to get back into that adaptive mindset and allow myself to grieve appropriately about the change.

The long and short of it is that I've been doing that with this diet change for the past year and a half. When drastic things like that happen to me, and they have a couple of times, I just look at what's next. I don't give myself time to process that it sucks. Another time that I did this was when I broke my arm. I didn't allow myself any time whatsoever to figure out how I could handle it emotionally. I did the same thing when I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's. In fact, I remember when I broke my arm, one of my friends was like "wow. You just bounced back as if nothing happened. You are so resilient!" NOPE. I JUST IGNORED MY FEELINGS. I was stressed about the damn snow for the rest of that winter and even if there are a couple of flakes on the ground even now, on go the winter walkers. BUT I'M FINE. REALLY FINE.

I think this is coming up for me now because I've felt a big dip in my motivation to continue with these diet changes. They're necessary and they're permanent, and I've been in denial of this fact the whole time. I've also had some really bad reactions to stuff I've eaten over the past month or so (both expected and not - there are times where I've consciously eaten something to which I know I'll have a bad reaction just to keep others from feeling uncomfortable), which impacts my mental health anyway, which was already in a more tenuous space than I was allowing for in the first place. But, when I feel a dip in that motivation, the core feeling is what does it matter? It's not like this is permanent. Also, whenever I'm trying to intentionally trying to make a big shift, that thought of what does it matter? (insert something to challenge the healthy and adaptive desire or behavior or thought juuuuuust enough to keep me from making the change I want to make) I've been teetering on feeling the tidal wave of grief that comes with changes this drastic. And it all started in therapy this morning when I was talking about how I just want to be able to make a cake from a mix and that I'm POed that I can't and I JUST WANT TO EAT CAKE AND WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE THIS BIG DAMN THING AND WHY DO I HAVE TO GO SPEND A JILLION DOLLARS ON GLUTEN FREE FLOUR AND EGG SUBSTITUTE. (Literally. Like, my therapist touched on it VERY lightly for her style and I just...burst into tears and all of these gross feelings started coming out. Gross. I'm super mature about my own feelings. I can tolerate others' feelings until the cows come home, but mine? NOPE.)

I have celiac disease. These diet changes are permanent. These are facts. I am intolerant to eggs and several other foods, including cane sugar, and I simply shouldn't and can't eat them and expect to have no reaction. Also facts. The change also happened literally overnight even though I knew somewhere deep down that it was coming. The softer stuff, like I can't really eat breakfast out at a restaurant anymore, I have to spend a large amount of time looking up stuff that I can eat before we ever go out to a restaurant, and I feel anxious about cross-contamination whenever I DO go out to a restaurant, and that all of these things are now my reality are also facts, but ones that I've outright refused to look at without the lens of denial in front of all of the rest of it, among other stuff. Have I gotten frustrated at times? Yes. I believe those were the denial shattering for even a tiny fraction of time, but I still wouldn't look at the grief that was beneath it even in those times.

It's this weird paradox, isn't it? I've accepted reality so hard core that it has kept me from fully accepting the reality of my health situation. The first step in this is, for me, acknowledging that all of these changes happened so quickly, and that it was JARRING. I think what happened was that I was knocked squarely out of my reality and the denial has only served to make me think (falsely) that the answer is to do my damndest to claw my way back into it instead of allowing myself the space to make a new reality in the face of all of this new information, grief included, which is what needs to happen. While my health is certainly better than it was a year and a half ago without a doubt, I also know that I still have a long way to go. Generally, I'm told, once a person has celiac and other food intolerances, it takes 2-3 years for their gut to fully heal and to fully shut down the inflammatory response, and that's when they do everything right to the letter every single day. Which I don't because I'm in denial about it. But let me tell you, the last month has been TELLING. I have been MISBEHAVING PROFUSELY diet-wise and gained about 49 pounds (not really, but it feels like it) and felt as badly as I did when I started this diet consistently for 30 days. The Glass of Denial, she is shattered. I'd like to blame it on turning 40 instead of my irresponsibility, but I know for a fact that's not true, because I've only been 40 for four days. And, it's not like a frigging switch flipped at 2:30pm on July 12. That's not how it works.

So, here's the other thing. In EMDR training, we have consult sessions once every three weeks or so. I had it right after my therapy session today and THANK GOODNESS it's over the phone because I was a little bit of a mess BUT GUESS WHAT HE SAID THAT STRUCK ME SO HARD IT ALMOST KNOCKED ME OUT OF MY CHAIR. He talked about Resensitization instead of Desensitization, and that sometimes that happens. Sometimes we shut ourselves off emotionally to something so drastically that the function of EMDR is actually to get us to feel it. (And of course, that's been what has happened to me because the case he was talking about was mine - I've been letting a colleague with no clients practice on me and that's what has been coming out - I've been annoyed severely by certain things and haven't been able to make sense of it, and he just connected the two dots this afternoon - thanks EMDR consultant!)

Sigh. It's all part of the journey - I know - but sometimes it's a struggle. The best thing I can do is keep swimming, even when it gets difficult and know that I'll reach acceptance of things at some point, even if that point is Most Definitely Not Right Now.