flying high; flying low

The days have been flying so fast by my eyes that I feel more winded than I have in a long time.

On Thursday, I flew to California for the Critical Resistance 10 year anniversary conference.

Kk and I spoke on the phone, of course, when I got there and a few times on Friday. I noticed that her emotional state seemed a bit wobbly--much more unstable than usual. See, kk is my rock. She is level-headed and good-natured, but she has also always been a bit reserved with her emotions. She holds things in and let's life go on around her.

On Friday my friend at the conference asked me how kk was doing and I said not so good; she has been down; she is in a strange place.

So on Saturday morning when I spoke with her and she was weeping like a wet fish and had been for hours before she spoke with me,I knew she had fallen into a place she had never been before. When I said let's change my flight so I can come home to you early and she did not say, "no, I'll be okay", I really knew she was not okay.

Clomid has invaded her range of emotions and caused her to crash into a fragility that scares us both.

Kk booked me a red eye; it left 12 hours after I spoke with my weepy beautiful girl.
I still was able to attend most of the conference (all Friday and Saturday), have dinner and beers with friends on Saturday and make it to the San Fransisco airport 2 hours early.

I took my allergy medicine and hoped that I would sleep like a baby on the three hour flight to Minneapolis where I had a layover and plane change. But, I slept like a person trapped in a thrashing nightmare. My ass burned with the residue of sitting for too many hours over a 3 day period and my head was filled with worry for my girl and the natural worry that surfaces in the pit of my stomach every time I leave solid ground and launch my body via airplane into the sky.

I made it home to my sweet baby at 9:30 am eastern time. I was sleep deprived and stuffy headed, but wrapping my arms around her slight body and knowing I was there to help hold her fragile heart made me smile with serenity.

Amidst this emotional turmoil, she has restarted the Clomid (this time a double dose). I am not so happy about any of it, but it is what she wants to do.

We are now setting off into the dreary midst of more western medicine induced depression, but I cannot blame her weariness on the Clomid alone. There is something ominous hovering in the air around us. I think the sheer fact that a bigot the size of Sarah Palin could actually be put into a seat that gives her power to be one step away from the presidency is the epitome of that hovering, grim cloud.

As a queer person, I am feeling the gloom of the potential repression that accompanies the ideology of closed-minded, hate-filled holders of power. All of this is only the surface of my thinking on how the context of politics and culture directly impacts the inner-workings of our emotions. All of that analysis is for another day...

In the meantime, I will be holding my girl through this ever-changing ride.