I wrote a post, a post with actual blog-specific topical content. I do run a life AND ANIME blog, after all. I thought it was good, too. Then WordPress lost my draft, and I lost all motivation to rewrite what I had almost entirely finished.
It’s 11 PM—not that late—but I’m tired. I feel tired a lot during the day. We’re all living with this fear and uncertainty right now, and it’s enough to justify this lethargy, I think. We’re not suppose to be too hard on ourselves right now, right?
It feels like I’m always trying to figure out the next way to teach remotely. I’ve become a children’s YouTuber of sorts, and that’s not the job I signed up for. I’m grateful for the platform, but it’s not the best or easiest way to teach kids all the social and emotional things they’re learning in early childhood. On top of that, I’m trying to keep my own education straight with the recent conversion to exclusively online courses. ADHD doesn’t like schedule changes. I’m more likely to forget things that way.
Staying at home and working isn’t all bad. In fact, I made a list of positives one day as I wondered outside in my back yard. There are a lot of good things, like cuddling my husband at will and being with my cat sons 24/7. And I still HAVE a job, at least for now, but we always knew the future of our school was in doubt, even before COVID.
Husband’s small business is suffering, of course. But he’s not getting one of those big airline bail-outs to keep us afloat. Not that we want one, necessarily; sometimes I just wonder why people are expected to be able to save so much for emergencies but big cooperations don’t have to.
But I’m not economically savvy. I’m just tired.
Anyway, Husband doesn’t have any employees, so we’re not worried about making payroll, and we’ve been fortunate to save for rainy days. We’re very lucky. Very blessed in this way. We’ll be okay. But losing our insurance in the midst of a pandemic if the school doesn’t renew our teaching contracts…
I honestly can’t think about it now. I’m treading water with my anxiety. I’m not going to drown right now. Too much to do, and too much of an adult to be.
America is… sure something.
That’s not to say that adults don’t occasionally give in to anxiety, but rather that I can’t let myself do that right now and still be productive. I am making a conscious decision to keep calm and adult on even as my infection-based OCD is screaming at me from all sides like “DON’T TOUCH THAT THING! DID YOU CLEAN THAT? DID YOU WAIT 3 DAYS BEFORE BRINGING THOSE GROCERIES IN THE HOUSE???”
I’m so worried for my family. For my friends. I’m worried for all the people I hear about on the news. I mourn for Italy. I mourn for Spain. I mourn for everyone who suffers.
Am I really an adult?
My nights have been restless and filled with strange dreams. I can’t explain them. It’s so bizarre. That probably contributes to my unease. I don’t know.
I miss my family. We’re very close, but I can’t be with them now, of course. I haven’t seen my dad in weeks, and he works an essential job, so he’s at risk, and that means my mom is at risk, and that means my grandparents are at risk because she frequently cares for them. My brother is at risk because he is diabetic and a former smoker with preexisting health problems. My other brother isn’t in a specific risk category, thank goodness.
Husband and I are over here just trying to stay away from everyone and flatten the curve.
So, obviously, if your anxious, you’re not alone. If you’re tired, I’m there with you. If you’re scared, well, I mean, we should probably start a club. But you’re not alone. Even if you’re physically alone while all held up inside your house, you’re not ALONE. And we’re going to keep fighting and keep being together and this will end eventually. It will.