Letting the remnants of the pandemic year hurt
How I am learning to grieve the year of so many losses
The tears don’t stop and sobs continue. On a perfectly ordinary today, I wake up to gloom, anticipatory stress and self-rejection. I type this knowing well that publicly sharing details about a bad mental health day, comes with its own set of worries and anxiety. I am longing to sink deep into my pillows and essentially cancel the day. Just like the day has cancelled me.
I am writing in the hope that I will find some answers towards the end of this piece. I am writing because that’s the one aspect of life that doesn’t challenge me for being who I am, at any given moment. I am writing because if I don’t, I’ll probably question why I didn’t.
I am going through my thoughts, trying to identify the trigger to this state of mind. And all I can come up with, as author Katherine May puts it, a staggering sense of ‘hollowed-out’ feeling. What does that mean? I’m still working towards a clear concise answer. I am living through it, as I write.
I feel nothing and everything periodically. The crying ebbs and flows through me. Tears appear and disappear. Words like ‘lazy’, ‘confused’, and ‘disappointment’ huddle in the centre of my mind. I am giving them enough power to drive my sense of self, today. My…
