Hey, come on try a little
Nothing is forever
There’s got to be something better than
In the middle
But me and Cinderella
We put it all together
We can drive it home
With one headlight
~The Wallflowers

I’m alive.

I miss writing. I miss normalcy. I miss going to the store without seeing masks and plexiglass dividers and taped X’s on the floor. I miss the days when my morning news didn’t start with how many new deaths were logged the day before. I miss people. I miss hugs.

Two weeks ago, I finished my last class of my Bachelors. An event that should’ve been marked with relief and excitement, the jubilation was painfully short-lived. Going to school gave me something to focus on at a time when focusing on anything feels next to impossible. And now that it’s over, I’m finding myself a little lost. The plan was always to go back to school (the psychology bachelors was only supposed to be part one), but with the world being what it is, 1) I need a break, and 2) step two would require in-person classes, the status of which is currently… questionable. So, I wait.

Arizona is currently in crisis mode, as one of the nation’s biggest hotspots for Covid-19. Our conference, along with just about everything else, is cancelled, and the re-opening (which was well beyond rushed if you ask me), was rolled back, and bars, gyms, clubs, theaters and waterparks are all closed once again.

So now what I’m feeling is… limbo. In the middle of normalcy, and… what? I can never finish that sentence. There is no getting back to normal, because normal is over. I keep telling myself that this won’t last forever though, and we’ll arrive somewhere eventually. We’ll find someplace to land. We’ll find a new normal.

I think the hardest part of all of this, besides the obvious soul-crushing fatigue, is just the UNCERTAINTY. How bad is this going to get before it gets better? WHEN is it going to get better? What’s it going to look like on the other side? How are we going to be affected?

The world is a veritable dumpster fire right now, and it’s making me so, so tired. And before you say it: Yes, there’s still good. Yes, there’s still things to be thankful for. Yes, things could be worse.

But right now? Today? Today, I get to be tired. Today, I get to be sad. Today I get to be frustrated at the virus, at the injustice, at the fighting, at the selfishness, at the grandstanding. Today I get to feel all the feels of being in the middle, of being suspended in this weird space between reality and whatever it is that lies beyond reality. Today I get to recognize the juxtaposition of taking this all too seriously and not seriously enough all at the same time.

I feel aimless, and I don’t like to feel aimless. I feel distracted, and I don’t like to feel distracted. I feel anxious, and I don’t like to feel anxious. And because my life is one big example of irony, underneath all of that, I actually feel good. My meds are on point, and I haven’t had anything close to the dip I had this past winter. So I mean, I guess there’s that?

This feeling though. This restless, anxious, crawling-out-of-my-skin aimlessness is grating. I’ve made self-care a priority (A side note on self-care, if I may: Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries. I’ve recently made some major changes to how I interact online, and it has made a world of difference. I’ve cleaned up my Facebook feed. Everyone who stresses me out gets snoozed or unfollowed. Comments that are condescending or rude don’t get to stay. Yesterday I got a snotty response on Insta, and while past me would have let it stay and stewed about it, I just went ahead and blocked her. Done, and done, and I instantly felt better. Boundaries.) I’m making myself get dressed even when I don’t feel like it. I’m getting enough sleep. I’m drinking enough water. It’s not perfect, but it’s something.

I’ll keep doing what I’m doing – with hopefully a little less news reading – and let go of everything else.

And somehow, someday, we’ll all come out the other side.