And as you can see, I am not dead.
I’m going to be real with you. Keeping up with everything that the COVID-19 pandemic has thrown at us these past couple of months has been absolutey exhausting and not conducive for my particular brand of creativity. Work has had constant changes because they are pretty much doing a lot of things on the fly (this is what happens when you outsource much of your workforce to overseas partners ), and while I am thankful that I haven’t been fired or furloughed and that my job is already work from home, there is a level of mental exhaustion at work at trying to pretend things are even close to normal. I don’t want to tear myself away from my Twitter feed even though it is also an exhaust to my mental as well. Try to find relief and get the news at the same time isn’t really happening.
I am demoralized, I am depressed, I am more affected by this than what I want to believe I am. I worry that my fiance may have had it back in December (either that or the flu), and I could’ve been exposed. My smoker’s cough came back with a vengeance and I haven’t smoked since late December/early January. My fiance also ended up, months after being sick, being diagnosed with strep, and I went and got a strep test and didn’t have strep. I’m trying to figure out when to wear a mask, should I be wearing gloves even though I’m going to have to change them damn near every time I touch something, and also we just moved across the parking lot to a bigger unit and should we wipe everything down whenever it comes into the house and oh my God, I actually wish even more so now that I had somewhere to go because this routine of waking up, working, playing video games, going to sleep is fucking with me heavy.
(I hate routines but I keep routines.)
And like some of you, because my work has shifted from talking to people on a phone all day (thank God) to talking to people via email and chat (oh God), I have some time to sit with myself and it’s unpleasant. Man, a lot of unpleasant feelings have popped up again. I’m a terrible friend (because I don’t want to be vulnerable and appear needy), should I be living my best bad bitch life (have I ever even been a bad bitch?) and not coupled up and being subjected to such a subservient role as being a (future) wife for one of these unappreciative ass males; am I wasting what little potential I have left; oh my God, why do I feel so empty inside and keep trying to fill the space with buying shit and booze because I don’t have weed available and the booze isn’t doing it for me in the way I want; what can I do to get the approval of people that I will probably never meet (absolutely nothing); where did my life go?
I just keep feeling all this terrible shit and haven’t been coping with it because I don’t have the fight in me right now to really cope. I cope all the fucking time, I’m tired of coping. I want to go rage. I want to feel this shit and fight it and yell and strangle it and burn some shit down and fire off and release, can I please get a fucking release from this shit? And when I am done raging I want to go spend the rest of my days surrounded by water and earth so that all this fire and air can calm the fuck down, feel something and be at some fucking peace.
I let out a deep sigh and that wasn’t good enough. The stir crazy has sunk in.
Feature photo from Thiago Miranda, follow him on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thfotodesign/