It has been a minute or two, hasn’t it? I’ve been writing still, but it’s been confined to the pages of my little red notebook, and a bit more sporadic than I would like.
I am fortunate enough to still be employed, and work for an employer that has allowed me to work from home for the last few months. I am thankful every day that I have that, when so many others lost their jobs.
Despite that, this year has put me through my paces, like it has for many. I’ve lost both of my grandparents within a few months of each other. I am trying to adjust to a world where I cannot seek out my safe spaces—the bookstores, museums, local coffee shops—as readily as before.
It’s no secret to anyone who’s been reading this blog for awhile that I’m an introvert. I relish my alone time; I need it to be fully content. Yet, I still enjoy going out into the world. Being at home for so long has wrapped me in my own head so much I’ve become reluctant to leave my house.
It’s difficult to concentrate. I alternate between energy and wanting to stay in bed all day. I kick myself because I was writing frequently in April and May, and then….well, my grandpa died.
I’m trying so hard to keep myself grounded, calm, to silence my triggers. Some days, I feel like an empty well. Some days, I feel like a pretty shitty friend, because it takes more effort to hold a conversation than I’m able to give that day.
There’s no bolt of inspiration in this post, or words of wisdom. It’s just me, a lone person on the internet, adding her voice to the chorus of others, saying, “We are tired. We are doing the best we can.”
Hold on, everyone.