Dutch Lock Down Day One Hundred Ten

[We Need To Talk]

Photo by Bundo Kim on Unsplash

Dear Leander:

What the actual fuck is going on with you?

But first the news:

Time kind of means nothing these days – especially this week as I thought every single day was a different day all day every day for the entire week.

Except Monday.

Monday was Monday.

Leander, you’ve been SUPER emotional – remember when the reimbursement was €130 short? You burst into tears. It was an easy fix, but first you had to take time to cry. What was that?

And less kind. To yourself. To your partner.

Sorry, P.

Why aren’t you taking care of yourself these days? Why aren’t you walking? Why are you eating so much sugar? Why don’t you drink water anymore?

We thought we figured it out when P and I drove all that way to Leeuwarden, talked it out, and realized I needed more attention. So he did.

And then we assumed it was because it was a million degrees. But then the temperature dropped. It’s been reasonable for six days now.

And then we thought it might be that the fluoxetine prescription ran out. So we refilled it. Been taking it again for eight days now.

And then you missed a writing day. Not here, but over on 750words.com. Broke an eighty-nine day streak. You’re not even sure how you forgot. Wait. No. I’ve got that one. It broke because I wrote about when the site was hacked. Which was kind of painful.


But that’s where we are – emotional, reactive, and … not taking care of yourself. Being actually quite mean to P. Not Cool, Leander.

It’s as if you’re pregnant. Or as if the perimenopause is worse.

Way worse.

And you’re not pregnant.


A month ago, you made an appointment with your therapist for yesterday, Wise Warrior, and that’s absolutely incredible, because since you’re not taking care of yourself, you’re not reaching out and asking for help. You decided you’d call the doctor to check your hormone levels or see if this is some other physical thing before going to see a therapist every week – just in case.

And then last night you chewed the fuck out of your tongue. And scratched the fuck out of your scalp.

And today you didn’t call the doctor.


What’s going on, Leander?

I hope this is enough.

That this is the wake up call.

That on Monday you’ll call the doctor and make the appointment. That tonight you’ll go to bed at a reasonable hour. After you take your meds. That tomorrow you’ll go for a long walk. And eat healthy. And avoid processed sugars.

And be as kind to yourself and your partner as you are to your delightful kids.



Love you,





2 responses to “Dutch Lock Down Day One Hundred Ten”

  1. […] when I was SUPER EMOTIONAL? I saw the GP. And he got me an appointment with a specialist. And that was […]