this.

this wasn’t the blog post i planned to share today. i have a different one that’s close to the finish line saved in another tab. but i guess i will finish it this weekend and post it next week. not like there’s a whole lot else to do. this wasn’t the blog post i planned to share. mostly because i have been quite busy today; ya know, teaching sixth grade, cleaning my fridge out, folding laundry and eating a burrito and frying bacon and making cupcakes. i have to be busy. not just now, but always. kinda my thing. i can’t relax because it makes me feel like i am forgetting to do something. it feels weird and uncomfortable to sit still. and now of course, i exhaust just from a twenty minute phone call so i have to adjust accordingly. staying busy also curbs my anxiety. if i am busy, i don’t have brain space for my fears or my worries or whatever. and this wasn’t the blog post i planned to share today. but when my niece said “i have one please kiki?” and pointed to my cupcakes on facetime, i couldn’t resist taking an evening walk to drop them off at her doorstep. and usually, a walk is refreshing for a girl who was in a thirty six day self isolation period in one room. but earlier today, i saw a post on social media about someone feeling invincible to the virus. untouchable. because they never get sick. and the comments section. ugh don’t get me started. and as i stepped onto my sidewalk with my tupperware of cupcakes for my two year old baby friend, i kinda lost my footing. not like tripped on the sidewalk. but kinda tripped in where i stood in my mental health journey.

and here’s the thing. i am at a point where i am no longer accepting judgement on what i am going through in life. this blog wasn’t designed to make you happy, but i kinda hoped it would help me through the tough times. and it really has. it’s really been an open place; where i can feel relatable and connected. and so here i am, with some lost footing, twenty one days into recovery from a virus that had me in a deathbed not too long ago. but the social media post about being invincible, it triggered me. most virus talk does. to date, i have unfollowed forty nine people who only post virus related things. i have removed all news apps from my phone and turned off notifications for apple news since ya can’t delete it. i have unfriended eight people who truly believe this virus is a hoax or some kind of conspiracy or just like the flu or are planning to protest at the state house. i have prayed a lot. like a lot. more than i have in many, many years. and yet, i find myself losing my footing over a triggering post. and so for the one mile walk from my door to my sister’s door, with cupcakes in my hand- i cried. not a full sob. although, that’s happened a lot lately. just cried. wanna know why? oh sure, of course you do. because for sixteen days, i was lying in a bed, sometimes my own and sometimes one in a hospital, and i was dying. not in a like dramatic way. not in a literal but not literal way. no, in an actual way. like for real dying. my whole body was being attacked. from the muscles and bones in my rib cage to my feet and my knees and my head and my ears. drenched in sweat. unable to walk or move. crawling to the bathroom to vomit. on my knees, praying. praying for it to end. and i didn’t actually care how it ended. i just needed it to end. and when they asked me if i had an advance directive and if i wanted to speak to a priest and if i would be ready to talk about the ventilator in the morning, all i wanted was for it to end. just end. so you can imagine my frustration, when some girl i know posts her invincibility bullshit. with the comments section blowing up in every direction about how ‘this is just the flu’ and the ‘people who get it are the weak ones’ and ‘if this resurges in the fall, i can handle it’ and it literally crumbled me. because first: call me weak one more time. do it. because i have scars and bruises and memories that will show you that i fought like hell. and i won. and second: if this resurges in the fall, will you really be able to handle it? how do you know? how do you know it won’t take you out like an undertaker? how on earth can you predict your own future? oh wait, ya can’t. but i also cried because of all the things that make it so scary to be a survivor. ya know, the surviving in a pandemic where no one knows a thing except you. and you’re providing info to the public. and the health department asks you the questions and takes notes from you. and you just wanna know if the virus will try to take your life a second time in three thursdays from now after you go to the store for garlic bread. because the worst people to go through a pandemic are the people who are more anxious because they survived one.

and so sure, i unfriended the invincible girl. wasn’t hard to do. and i cried. and i walked home and washed my hands and sat down to write this. because trauma lives here. and that’s okay. it’s okay to talk about it. it’s okay to cry about it. it’s okay to be mad about it and mad at those who lack the decency to work around it. i am sad. i am angry. i am so freaking scared. i am lonely. i am fearful. i am broken. but i am also kind of a badass. and one helluva fighter. i am working hard every day to make room for what has to walk with me from now on. i am trying harder every day to make a space for the virus’ impact and allow her to unpack just some of her luggage. i know the trauma has to stay. i know there is work to be done. i know it will be hard and will take time and won’t be fun. and that’s okay.

this wasn’t the blog post i planned to share today. but for me, it was almost imperative that i did. because i am here and part of being here now, is sharing what is shaping me. like currently. now. today. and right now, this is shaping me. this experience. this world. this pandemic. this fear. this trauma. it’s shaping who i am. and that’s okay! because there have been a lot of this moments in my life. and i have been shaped and molded and sculpted and shifted by everything that has happened. by all the former this moments. and so this, this has to have a place to rest and settle. i have to shift all the rest of me to make a space. and i have to go through this. to get to the other side.

i made it this far. and i am know i can get through it. i know i am better for it.

because THIS too shall pass. but first, we gotta let her through.

so whatever this is wrecking havoc. stop. take a moment or five to let her know what’s up. embrace the hard part. welcome the feelings. process. shift. make some space for her to join you. and get ready to face the world; perhaps, changed. but we have to grow from what we go through.

xo.