I'm writing this on my lunch break at the mall, wiping my nose on my sleeve and trying to hide the tears. Lately it's been one thing after another. I got sick, missed work, got caught running for cover in a torrential downpour, and then lost my Chromebook to the rain. I'm 44, but some days I feel like a 4 year old, especially emotionally.
Two thoughts keep looping in my head. One is "I'm just tired." The other is "I just don't know." I don't know what to tackle first, second, or last. I don't know where I made the wrong turn. Most days I can barely get through today, let alone figure out the past.
I own very little: a bag, some clothes, some shoes, mostly given to me. I have no savings to speak of. Every missed day of work is a missed day of pay, and every doctor's visit to prove I'm sick costs me more time. That's part of how I lost my apartment. Trying to be responsible somehow keeps making me look irresponsible.
I still remember brighter days, with friends and adventures, and I'm trying to hold on to a better outlook. Right now it just feels like a fight. This image is what it looks like inside: the storm, everything I'm carrying floating out of reach, the good memories glowing just past my fingertips, and one small beam of light I'm still looking for. The quill and the coffee are there too, because even on days like this, I'm still writing.
If you've read this far, thank you for sitting with me for a minute.
(I wrote this using voice-to-text on my Android phone, since my Chromebook is out of service right now.)
If this one stayed with you, you might also like:
When Everything Falls Apart: A Letter from the Edge of Overwhelmed