Saw this while roving the inter webs and it felt so true: “Blood makes you related. Love makes you family.”
I went to the endocrinologist yesterday, not the ancient one but another doctor in the practice who came very highly recommended as well. He did my blood work and adjusted my meds and I felt heard and validated. I'll see him again in a couple of months to further assess everything. The dire feelings have passed, yet I sense I’m in transition somehow, treading water, waiting for the next indicated thing to become clear. I might be a little numbed out, marking time till something sparks. Or maybe it’s just been a long two years, and Covid is rising again, and ten Black people buying groceries were gunned down in Buffalo, and I worry about the minefields my children and their loves must negotiate in this land Rebecca refers to as "Terrible America," and dear God I’m tired.