Love Hard Laugh Harder

I’m riding the struggle bus hard. I thought, despite the way the world was going, I’d be ok. I’ve tried so hard to be a source of light to people in my life who were in utter despair regarding the re-election of Trump. I knew it would be bad. We all knew it would be bad. I don’t think most of us were prepared for it to be this bad, this fast.

The last couple of weeks, making it out of my bed is an accomplishment. I work, come home, go to the class I am taking. Occasionally see family or friends. Mostly though I’ve been holed up in my room, in my bed. Days off without plans are spent drifing in and out of consciousness. Staring bleakly at my phone. Eventually I’ll turn on my tv and resume bingewatching: catching up on The Handmaid’s Tale or Scandal. A peek into the possible future we are facing or being inspired by a strong, powerful woman taking on the government.

I am tired of being tired. I’m overwhelmed by being overwhelmed. I’m exhausted by my exhaustion.

Right now, I’m focusing on small wins. I need to claw my way back. To find my strength, my joy, and my hope.

Today I swept the bathroom and the clutter corner I’ve recently uncluttered in my room. I went for a walk. And here I am, writing. Confessiong my weaknesses and vulnerability. I am struggling.