we're not even at P

I read a comment this week that we're not even at the "P" of PTSD.

I felt like I hit a wall a couple of weeks ago. The thing about hitting a wall during pandemic times is IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER! You're still in a pandemic. More people are getting vaccinated including some dear friends, but mostly nothing has changed.

I saw another comment that said "I can't go to another fucking park or on another fucking walk." Yes. I've stopped taking pictures of murals and inspirational quotes. I honestly don't care anymore.

I've been thinking about what a return to life means for me. 

My work situation stresses me out and my boss has been extremely controlling and negative in conversations about how it might work better for me, and our team. I've never truly asked for what I need, and I'm wondering if I'll have the courage to do so now.

I'm writing more and I want/need/hope for that to continue.

In some ways I feel closer to my sisters. We've had dozens of Zoom chats and a lengthy FB group message with memes and links. I downloaded it this week and I'm producing it as a document. An artifact.

Friend-wise I have relationships that have grown and evolved. We've found new ways to connect, confide, share, laugh. I'd say 60 to 70% of my friends have gone silent. Some days I feel abandoned and very alone. Some days I don't talk to another live human. I'm watching too much Netflix probably but I've also read a ton of books and done a lot of thinking.

So, what's ahead? Hopefully a road trip to see good friends. Hopefully a move to a better living space that costs less. Hopefully new inroads with publishing.

Hopefully equity, safety and peace.