Lately I’m seeing some depression slip in. It’s mostly evident in the body oils that leak into my eyes from a lack of showers. The internet died and died again and again and stayed dead. Me, unable to catch my breath or take a deep breath waiting for Comcast to call back. I snapped at anyone who got close.
Today I poked at email, wanting direction; it never came. Instead, I took my turn at the puzzle. One thousand pieces. Eight hundred assembled as COVID-19 gathered steam. Two piles remain. Sky-blue, hazy-cloud-white. My heart pounds harder as I cycle through the options, impossibly without a match.
“What’s wrong?” Abrased under scrutiny or concern, either/or, identical to me. I fight back or maybe just fight. Uncertainty = unmotivation. I start each day reading CNN on the kitchen bar stool until a low ache in my back moves me towards the couch. The pain, unchanged, sends me to the open spot on the floor to stretch and plank and down dog and crunch. My day peaks with promise but fizzles a moment later and slides a downhill slope until I go to bed.