This is the first time today I have allowed myself any real shift of focus. All day I have been straining to work, first on a project, and second, to fix an issue with a feature I wrote on an app I support.

I'm not straining anymore. I am trying to expand again. I am telling myself to let my mental sheepherders relax. This is how I refer to the cognitive loop of constantly checking in on my own thoughts to make sure I am thinking about the issues at hand instead of, say, allowing my mind to wander when I hit the yahoo homepage and see some clickbait or other. Sheepherders. It takes some amount of energy to run that program and stay focused.

sheepherders=off now in the parameter file, save, make live.

Although I still have work to do on the project I started in the morning, there's no way I'm going back to it now. It's over.

And I found myself wondering what to do.

It took me a minute to realize this is a good time to just – well these aren't my words, they're my sister's – honor myself.

I believe the intent of those words means: To give yourself some time to breathe, here and there, to do something for yourself that matters, because on a different day, in a different state of mind, you decided for sure that it's become deathly important to have these breathing periods and allow yourself to experience life and your own pursuits, even if that pursuit is to have a snack or lay face down on the bed and think about nothing at all. It doesn't have to be some bullshitty natural event like going on a hike and appreciating the outdoors. It can be completely synthetic. It could be pursuing a hobby or it could be staring at a wall. It should be any experience other than working, and that includes thinking about work. There are times when work is not allowed in the brain and we need to get good at identifying when that happens and why and always work to minimize it.

Today, to honor myself, I write. On my whiteboard, in green smeary lettering, are column headers with weekday values – M Tues Wed Th F Sat Sun – and rows have hobbies. Writing. Guitar. Doing my Physical Therapy. I wanted to get a map of where I'm at for the week. I've been trying to force myself to do these things and I can't measure what I'm not tracking.

My performance this week is pretty bad. I did some kind of physical therapy every day but that's about where it ended. I wrote on Tuesday. I read a lot yesterday which I have decided counts for my writing goal. I hooked up my guitar but haven't touched it, partially because I'm unsure of how to hold it now that my shoulder has been surgically repaired but I do not yet have full strength and control.

Here is what I have been thinking about in spots today. The IVF cycle might have actually worked this time. Our trip to Albania last week to implant a fetus in Penny could be a success. It's Friday now, a week out, and nothing ominous has happened. Penny's progesterone levels are high, confirmed via blood test checks. She feels small tugs that, according to the internet, might indicate some shifts to accommodate the anticipated growth of a new human.

Yesterday what I had been thinking about in spots: The IVF cycle might not have worked.

Before I could even think about what it might mean for me, I thought about what it will mean for Penny. And our relationship. I thought about trying to console her and not knowing how to express my own feelings, the filter always on. I can't just tell her about how much the money hurts, she would think that would be so typical of a man. But what hurts the most is how much time I have spent on the IVF journey. Years of clinics and appointments and paperwork and Penny miserable and stressed always and switching clinics and doctor unresponsiveness. It is hard to throw so much of life's energy into something that ends with futility.

I know which is more fun to think about. It is the success scenario. Penny is pregnant and will stay pregnant and we will have a child together and my life will never be the same.

Here is something that is different about me now than fifteen years ago.

I am more willing to choose the more fun thing to think about. I am more willing to "cross that bridge when we come to it" and not explore too deeply the possibility of failure, though I know it exists. A younger me would be absolutely terrified. But now I am more able to wait and see what happens, hope for the best, and expect the best.

Good god, what is happening to me? Am I becoming more of an optimist?