struggling


I am struggling.

whether or not I want to admit this, I know this to be true.

Last weekend I got a call, a call that would put many of things in perspective for me, that would, of course, rock me at my core and make my world pivot around an illness. See, the time of a pandemic, even talking about illness seems taboo. All the signs and memes I see floating around the internet speak to how, we are all in the same storm but in different boats and well, I am in the fucking water boatless now, my boat cast asunder.

I had a talk with Doug tonight, a talk that like all of our others is blunt and had with the utmost respect and love. He told me that I am not myself right now, I am crying, I have no patience and I am listless and almost frantic with trying to do all the things. He is right. I was in shock. I still am. I am riding the ephemeral waves praying that I see shore close enough to swim to. Just as I feel that there is a course or a way through this storm, the current catches me and pulls me back out. I tread.

I feel the salty streams betray me as I write this. I can't say it. Like the one afflicted I cannot name it. If I name it, it becomes real and reality is a bitch. I am unprepared and tired of all of the water. The weight of it all is crushing and almost forces me beneath the surface, but I am far too stubborn to let that take me down. I still fight like and hell and hope for better. I hope for the outcome to be better than what some people around me think is final. I can't and won't think that way. I can't bring myself to do it.

The moral of the story through all of this prose is that I am not okay and that is okay in this instance. The world, what I am dealing with, is a lot. It is far too much, but we persist because whether or not we believe it, the world goes on. The storm rages and then calms and one day, with the outcome that will happen, will persist and will happen. The sun shall rise again.


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