I think the reason I feel so rudderless is because there are no goalposts. It doesn’t even seem like there’s an up or down.
I’m not sure where I need to be, and aside from the social mile markers of aging/family expansion/etc., life doesn’t have a real guide book. So, I keep going. I take it day by day. Right now, with COVID and its variants, it can be minute by minute (oh Michael McDonald).
I’m typing this out in my phone in the shower because I knew if I stepped out, I’d be preoccupied with something else. Whether it’s doomscrolling or worrying about housework, there’s always something that I can use to suppress what I’m feeling. Feeling every bit of yourself is important, but what if yourself is kind of scary? What if there’s a place you don’t dare venture into because you think you risk not returning?
I know that I’m alright, but I’m not alright. This has been a hellish year and a half and it’s like we’ve gotten noisier and busier to avoid what’s been happening. I started putting in earplugs just to quiet down the static. The drips of:
- We’ve beaten this
- Climate change is happening; we’re doomed
- Workers need to return to work so we can see them
- Return to normalcy
are too much. That last one? That’s a load of shit. There is no normal; there never really was, but now it’s not just the poors and the untouchables who are affected. This push to save the people who didn’t think twice about sacrificing us is insulting, to say the least. Some are greedy and selfish by primary attribute and others are actively seeking to burn it all down around the rest of us. (One could argue that these two are the same groups.)
This was a spur-of-the-moment release. Maybe if I begin to let it out and into a place that’s not my journal (which only holds angry/sad/frustrated/despondent entries, it seems), it can help someone else feel like they’re not alone. Even though I know I’m not alone, it’s very different to feel it and I think that’s what I’m seeking.