The fifth wave is rolling in. I oscillate between gratitude and despair. Gratitude, because I am still here, still standing. Despair, because I feel the weight of what has been lost in the process. Both have to be acknowledged. I am noticing something else, too. I know of a few people who have managed to thrive – personally and professionally – under lockdown. The stars aligned in such a way that this time of loss and heaviness became a time of opportunity and lightness for them. It is heartening to see. But it is rare. So many others have had to survive the impossible. Many didn’t. And I am beginning to understand that even those of us who’ve managed to get to the other side seemingly unscathed – who are still here, still getting up in the morning, still carrying on – are running on empty. The act of getting here has exhausted most of our resources. And not enough time has passed, not enough has been recovered and cultivated, to replenish those non-existent reserves, to nurture our resilience back into shape. We are somehow still getting on with it, but the smallest hurdle can derail us. There is nothing else left to draw on in order to overcome. This is not a safe space.
When the hurdle is not small, our world collapses around us. And it’s nearly impossible to explain why. (Please don’t ask.)
I still manage to get up in the morning, to get on with some things – although everything, absolutely everything, is a challenge right now. All I really want is to lie down and rest for a very, very long time. I don’t know how else to heal.
My Mom gave me a new summer dress. I love wearing it.