It’s been four months. Four never-ending, infinite months, that have passed in the blink of an eye. Four months filled with crafting and crosswords, banana breads and bake-a-thons. Embracing “working from home”, and appreciating the quality time with our loved ones…
Four months of slowly unraveling. Of coming apart at the seams. Fours months that have blurred into an indistinguishable mess, of my mental health, turning me in a “mental-self”.
There have been good days and bad days and days in-between. Days where we galvanized and showed our true grit. Days filled with hope that this time we would get it right. As we were inspired by the man elected to lead. We took up his call to arms, to stay home and to keep the faith.
Then days became weeks. And the weeks became months. Our hopes emptied out into the ocean we are not allowed to swim in. Our resolve washed away with the dregs at the bottom of our now empty wine glasses. We got sad. We got angry. We got reckless.
In trying to find the balance between saving lives and saving livelihoods, we‘ve each become blinded by our own perspective. Nothing quite like a global pandemic to bring out the worst, and the best, in people right?
I am tired.
Tired of looking at the bright-side. Tired of the anxiety this virus has brought us. Tired of trying our best not to catch it, while secretly hoping we’ve had it and recovered. Tired of putting in countless hours behind a computer screen and still not having enough money to pay the bills. Tired of hearing my son screaming on the other side of the office door because “sorry boy, mommy needs to work”. Again. Tired of the guilt from watching my husband be our hero and nailing daddy-daycare – every day, because we are too scared to send our child back to school. Or maybe we just can’t afford it. But right now I actually think we can’t afford not to. Tired of feeling ragged. Tired of being tired. Tired of holding back tears as I snap at my husband once again, because I need someone to hear me. Tired of watching businesses close and people lose jobs. Tired of masks and sanitizer. Tired of people dying when it didn’t need to be that way. Tired of living in a filthy house, because who has the time to clean, and work, and mom, and human? Tired of feeling like I could be better, do better. Tired of eating my feelings. Tired of being so angry that I’m constantly on the brink of exploding.
So very tired of the mental juggle.
This has been a week fraught with emotions. Of meltdowns and burnouts and “all-fall-apart”. It’s the culmination of the four months that corona has stolen from us. It’s the hopelessness of not knowing where it will end.
Next week will be better. I’ll go back to looking for silver linings. I’ll show my agility and strength of character. I will make a plan and push though. I will be the “better” version of myself. But for now, for tonight, it’s ok to be so over corona. I’m going to drink the last of my wine. Lie in the sun tomorrow. And fantasize about sending my son back to school and having a few hours where I don’t have to human.
Screw you Corona. I want our 2020 back.