I’ve got nothing.
I’ve pretty much got nothing to say or to rant about or to be excited about. I’m kinda tired of sitting around my dust-filled, people-filled, pet-filled home, but I’m happy my family and extended family are healthy — and my summer clothes seem to still fit. Other than that, my blahs have gotten severe enough that I wonder if I should even bother with this blog anymore. I mean, if a writer makes a
poo post, but no one clicks, does it make a difference?
Actually, I guess as long as I’m typing, I do have something to say. Just this one little thing: It’s OK.
It’s OK to feel exhausted. It’s OK to feel sad. It’s OK to feel unsure and angry and depressed.
It’s OK to feel unmotivated.
That last one was mostly for me. Everything seems so lacking in purpose these days, even taking a shower seems like such a waste of time. And water.
When I scroll through social media — which I’m not sure why I bother with because I’m not a popular Pomeranian or spunky Corgi with bazillions of followers — I don’t relate to the people who are learning new languages and taking up woodworking*. I kinda want to punch them. I do, however, like the posts that say living through an actual crisis quarantine is taxing and that we should cut ourselves slack. A lot of it. I also really like the cute puppy pics.
The other day I decided that along with the other quasi cleaning I’ve been up to that I’d tackle the ol’ email inbox and that really bitch-slapped me into a funk. I stumbled across all these back-and-forths relating to a high-school mural project and a basketball fundraiser and catering quotes for a party that never truly made it into the planning stages. They date back to early March, another lifetime.
All of us are mourning the loss of a “normal” life, so much so that I actually miss racking up 100 miles on my car every week with all the school and sports shuttling. It will definitely be nice when we can look back on the coronavirus like we do now when reading about the oh-so-long-ago Spanish flu.
But who knows when that will be.
In the meantime, we’re all coping in our own ways. We’re doing what we can to make this experience less sucky and using our personal gifts to make the world better. Chefs are feeding front-line healthcare workers; entertainers are hosting fundraisers; kids are chalking messages of hope and thanks on their driveways; writers are trying to offer a diversion from the madness, maybe even spark a little laugh.
We live in the desert, the most inhospitable of places**. If we can get through summer after summer of melt-your-contacts-right-onto-your-eyeballs temperatures, we will get through this. And hopefully with more empathy and grace and vigilance than before.
*I will admit to making the obligatory loaf of sourdough bread, but I was gifted with starter *AND* I bake all the time anyway regardless of whether or not we’re under a stay-at-home order.
**Even worse than Costco on a Friday *before* the quarantine.