Tie a Knot in the End of the Rope

Herself speaks.

Everything is fine: my people are all well and healthy; we have employment and housing and supplies and all the things we might need, and then some. We are very lucky. This I know.

I am still struggling right now.

The intersection of the political climate and the pandemic: politicizing of scientific information -- especially, whether to wear a mask in public spaces -- fills me with rage. I do not trust other people to behave appropriately.

(This, especially, ever since an episode a few weeks ago in which a neighbor whom I had never met before was --in my opinion -- aggressively rude toward me over dog-related-etiquette. I have a different walking route now. The incident reminded me that I cannot expect strangers to be civil, let alone to do the right thing and wear a mask/socially distance in stores.)

I am mentally tired of planning the shopping so far in advance and trying to determine the best means to obtain what we need while minimizing contact with others. I don't see this process changing any time soon, though. Need to keep going.

The small dogs are decrepit and needy, and their frailty weighs on me like a stone.

Work continues apace, and it is hard to get through projects without being interrupted by new, more pressing projects. My brain is full.

I have tried to cheer myself up by working on a venture that I enjoy, that had been set as a possibility for happening for the fall; however, it appears that the venture will not transpire and must be delayed another four to six months. Alas.

I have tried looking for places to go camping, but pandemic safety measures have closed many of the easy, I-could-go-camping-by-myself spots. I am not sure I have the mental energy to continue to research.

Beloved Husband is extremely busy with work, and Cherished Friend is busy settling into his Oceanside domain. My e-mail correspondents are slow to respond (for which I do not fault them; it seems few of us have the time or wherewithal for anything more than the most basic of communication). My siblings are pandemically preoccupied as well, trying to get by as we all are. The Offspring are doing the best they can, and I am trying hard to help them manage their needs and frustrations during these weird times.

I am lonely.

I need a respite from Everything: time when I don't need to think about the terrible state of the world, or address another's needs, or clean the house or feed the pets or pay the bills, or tend to anyone except for myself. I don't know how to find that space right now. It seems impossible.

Childishly, I want my struggle to be acknowledged: I know things are difficult right now and I see that you are trying really hard. I am a grownup, though, and no one validates grownup feelings -- it seems to be a weakness, to need validation. People look away, embarrassed at a showing of such neediness.

I want to be folded into a safe place, to be reassured, it will get better, in a voice that I believe.  You rest now, I will take care of things.

I shall have to tell myself.
It will get better.

I hope.