Zombie-walking

I am not someone enamored by the current zombie-zeitgeist. But honestly if someone asked how I am right now, I could only really point to zombie imagery.  I mean, I get through the day, in a lumbering, shambling sort of way. Often with a smile or a laugh thrown in.  But I am going through the motions.

Routine helps.

According to my therapist, my desire to get back on the reproduction horse isn't compulsive behavior.  Well, that's helpful.  Who knew, apparently I am not only a fighter, I am an optimist (ahhh, if only my husband was in the room when she said that). 

I have been back at work for a little under two weeks and somehow it feels like months.  I am depleted (another pronouncement of my therapist).  The universe continues to fuck with me in a myriad of ways I won't detail here, I'll just say that I sprained an ankle and am trying to prepare for the possibility of a financial crisis in my household.  Fun times ahead.  Can I go back to sleep now?

Speaking of sleep, I apparently need more of it.  On the advice of my therapist I ordered some mediation cds, and let's just say I suck at meditation.  I completely fell asleep during my last attempt.  I found myself snoring, so I wasn't in a particularly "mindful" state. 

And yet, my routine has been re-normalized in a way that's comforting to me because it feels proactive.  Supplements, wheatgrass juice, visits to my acupuncturist (who pulled some miracle treatment on my ankle the other day, and I will only use one word to describe it:  "Bleeding" - yes, as in we're in the year 1540).

I have gained four pounds since my D&E, enough to scare me back into motion.  The problem is, I can't return to my old dance studio yet to teach zumba classes.  The space itself  is a giant trigger for me, I began a new round of weekend classes when I last learned I was pregnant over the summer.  One of my students knew I was pregnant.  I can't even look in the studio mirror without imagining how far along I would be now (17 weeks) or how my tiny bump might appear now ("hey everyone, look how pregnant I am").

What to do.  Well, I can't lie around and complain anymore, so hopefully I can resume teaching a class or two at my office.  The very stressed out women I work with could use a little release, maybe I can help them.  Maybe we can help each other.  It takes a village, y'all.