All the days are blending into each other. Adrian asked me what the date was yesterday. Does anyone know the date right now? Is there even a reason to know the date anymore?
I struggle with being optimistic at the best of times, so I’m finding it particularly hard right now. Increasingly challenging developments are a daily occurrence. I find it so hard to write, which is one of the few activities I a) enjoy and b) can do while confined to my home. I wish these posts could go up every day, but I don’t know if I have it in me anymore.
I feel crushed with worry all the time. I read a post about anxiety on Instagram that suggests making a list of your fears before bed, because naming them might make them feel less intense and make it easier to go to sleep. A partial list:
- Adrian or I might get sick
- Our parents, family, friends, or someone we know might get sick
- Adrian might get laid off too
- We might not be able to afford our rent or groceries in the coming months
- The brewery we’ve booked as our wedding venue in October might run into financial trouble and close
- We might have to postpone or even cancel our wedding altogether
- I might not see the people I love again for months or even years
- I might never get to do the things I hoped to do
This list could go on forever. I don’t know if I feel any better. I keep thinking of that John Lennon song: “All my little plans and schemes, lost like some forgotten dreams …”
There is no way out but through. These things might happen, or they may not. We will somehow face them if and when they arrive, but until then, I will stare at the ceiling in the dark and consider the endless possibilities until I finally fall asleep.
But today I’ll try again: I’ll drink the coffee Adrian made when he heard me wake up, I’ll make blueberry scones, I’ll do things around the house, forget the bad things that have happened already, ignore the bad things still to come. What else is there to do?