Maybe it’s okay, to not be okay during a global crisis

I’m over here, just trying to cope. Really, I am. I’m doing the best that I can do.

But sometimes, I’m not good at anything. No good at being a mum. No good at being a wife. No good at getting my work done. No good at cleaning my house. I’m certainly no good at getting it all done at the same time while a pandemic is raging through the world like a wildfire. Maybe that’s okay.

Maybe no one is judging me for not playing enough, not cleaning enough, not being productive enough, not being fun enough. Maybe no one is thinking about how I could do this better. Maybe they know, that these are strange times and no one really knows what the hell they are doing. Or maybe, maybe no one cares what I’m doing because they too, are just trying to get by. They too are struggling to sleep, to wake up, to get up, to get active, get done with all the things that the world needs them to do. No one judging me but myself.

Maybe at the end of the day, everyone else is exhausted too. Maybe they’re sitting on the edge of the bed wondering how they can get through this. Maybe they don’t even have a job to get to tomorrow.

Maybe they don’t have any hope left. For tomorrow.

Maybe they are way worse off than I am. Maybe it’s okay if I acknowledge that and then, cry a little while longer because I too am exhausted by the load that I carry.

Maybe.

Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Maybe once I’ve ordered take out. Left my house, just for a minute. Maybe then. Maybe now. Maybe it gets easier at level 3, or level 2. Maybe when I can run free. Visit friends. Drive to the beach and lie in the sun. Oh the sun. How I miss the sun.

Maybe it gets better next week or the one after that. When the scary pandemic is no more. Ahhh, who am I kidding. We know this is it. There is no after this. It’s just a new way of coping. A new way to face tomorrow and the week after and the month after and the one after that… next year. Maybe then.

But until then. I must sleep. Because tomorrow, I need to wake up and cope, poorly, all over again. And for now, my tortured dreams await.