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Making Sense

Kenzo was home today... kinda sorta sick. His temperature hovered between 37 and 37.5°C, which is one of those annoying in-between fevers where you can’t really say if someone’s sick or not, but they’re definitely not quite right. He mostly lay on the sofa all day, which made me kinda sad because he’s usually a whirlwind of energy. Seeing him so still felt... off.

At some point late in the morning, I decided to make a second 500ml round of coffee. Maybe it was the extra caffeine, or maybe it was just one of those Mondays (and it was), but before lunchtime my body decided... "hey remember panic attacks? Let’s do one of those." Shaking, dizzy, breathing all weird, like I was trapped inside my own skin, which we all are of course but when you feel it then things get bizarre. 

It’s been a year and a half since I had one this bad, and I do not miss them. There was a six-month period a few years back where panic/anxiety attacks were a daily thing, which is why I finally decided to see a doctor. 

I took my backup medicine, which helped a little, but the rest of the day felt like I was running a marathon inside my own head. Sideways. With heavier than normal gravity. By dinner, I felt like someone had wrung me out like an old dishrag and placed an anvil on it and then sat on that.

Meanwhile, Osamu had his last full day of kindergarten. And judging by his grin, he is really done. Ready to move up. Ready to be a first-grader. 


No hesitation, no looking back. Watching him, I had what I sensed to be a weird parent moment where you simultaneously see your kid as the baby they used to be and the full-fledged person they’re becoming, all at the same time. It's beautiful and melancholy at the same time. Such is life. 

Late afternoon, Kenzo gave me a letter. Or maybe more of a subliminal message. Two pictures. The bottom one was easy. It was the 10-yen candy dispensing machine from the arcade. The top one stumped me until I finally asked. Kenzo informed me, with great patience, that it was the claw game where I won his beloved Pokémon stuffed animal (and, to be fair, several other large, impressive prizes thank you very much).


Most people don’t get our little world. They don’t get why a 10-yen candy machine and a claw game mean something. They don’t get the way my boys think, or the way I sometimes have to ride out a day when my brain decides to betray me. They don’t get why I stay up late thinking about how to be the best parent I can be while simultaneously trying not to lose myself. And writing this blog. But it's okay I guess. 

The good news is I ain't tryin' to live a life other people understand. I’m trying to live a life that makes sense to me and my family.

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