Dear Georgie Lynn

Dear Georgie Lynn,

It is Friday, March 6, 2020. You are just a week over 14 months old and are curious, smart, adventurous, and stubborn. We have just moved to Leadville, Colorado and your mother is struggling through a pretty bad bout of depression right now. I had this idea that I would write out some stories, share some family history, journal about our day-to-day activities.

According to my other blog, it's been almost five years since I last journaled. I used to journal semi-regularly, but stopped when your dad discovered the blog and didn't like that it was public. He asked me to stop, so I did. I'm a little sad now in hindsight that I did. Your dad will no doubt say that he didn't ask me to stop - that he just asked that I not make the blog public. Either way at the time it was interpreted as "please stop."

As I mentioned, I am dealing with depression right now. Both of your parents suffer from general depression and we both handle it very differently. Your dad will shut himself off and escape into a video game or go take an hour long bath and then indulge in "fat kid therapy" meaning he eats a lot of junk food and drinks a lot of Diet Coke or Tab. Your mother suffers from general anxiety disorder, which is a form of depression where I constantly worry about things that I can't control. The anxiety helps me to be super organized and helps me to get a million things done in a day, but it also causes me to freak out when I don't feel productive. The anxiety (and the pressures of growing up with Papa) have caused me to believe deep down that my worth is tied to how much I can produce in a day. By produce I mean my relative productivity - how much can I get done in a certain time frame. So in a really productive day I could say repaint 4 rooms, deep clean the kitchen, manage and pay our bills, do the grocery shopping, and several loads of laundry.  That would be a great Saturday.

Since moving to Leadville my productivity and therefore my sense of self-worth has decreased dramatically. At the moment I am unemployed. I am no longer needed by my theatre students. I no longer have a house to fix up. I no longer have a house of my own. I no longer have my own vehicle since your dad's car broke down about a month ago. I no longer have a calling at church. I don't know anyone here. I have no adult friends, peers, or acquaintances. I am having a hard time moving and breathing at this altitude.

My day starts with you waking up at 7:00 AM. Every day. Like clock-work. I wake up your dad, who then goes to "rescue you" from your crib. He changes you and then brings you to the bedroom where you begin to fuss because you think we're trying to get you to go back to sleep. I mean, it's always a hope, but you slide down the side of the bed and flumph onto the floor. You toddle over to look at the goldfishes in the aquarium, while your dad and I think about being awake. Somewhere between 7:30 and 8:00 AM we all get up and your dad makes you some breakfast - oatmeal and fruit.

You play while your dad and I scroll our newsfeeds and get caught up on our social media. We then do nothing for a couple of hours. At 9:30 you go down for a morning nap and your dad and I discuss plans that never go anywhere. Eventually your dad will get up to take a shower before going to work. You'll wake up and I make you lunch. We play, watch TV, listen to music. I make dinner and then get you ready for bed. Once you're asleep, I clean the house, do the dishes, take care of laundry. At some point I'll eat some food. And I sit in bed with the TV on waiting for your dad to come home.

I love spending all day with you, but at the same time, I really miss my classroom. I really miss being a part of the community. I miss having adult friends and conversations. I am frustrated and annoyed by your dad who sits and plays games on his phone instead of playing with you or helping me with the house work. This lack of meaningful productivity has the effect of making me feel like I've reverted back to being some 1940's house wife who doesn't get to leave the house except to go to the grocery store and that my only purpose for being here is to cook, clean, and mind the baby.

Again, I love you and I love spending my day with you. I just hate how I feel so trapped in this routine. I feel lonely. I feel bored. I feel like I'm not living up to my potential.

Your mommy will get better though. She loves you and how independent and curious you are. She wishes though that you would stop pulling the spatulas out of the kitchen drawers.