Time and time again I’ve felt as though I’m just barely hanging on.
I found myself stretched as far as I thought I could stretch, and then had to stretch more. And more.
I became the primary caretaker for my immobilized partner, who had a terrible injury. A helicopter had to come find us, as she was unable to be moved after a serious fall. She is still recovering. I had to beg for time off work just to pick her up from the hospital. I had to move into her apartment for four weeks to assist with basic things like helping her go to the bathroom, feeding and dressing her, cleaning and laundry. She is still recovering.
We both survived getting Covid in January. We had awful symptoms. We had fevers, night sweats, nausea, fainting spells, and the dreaded brain fog. We are both long-haulers now. Really weird symptoms come and go.
I nearly became homeless at the beginning of all this, after losing my great new job due to covid layoffs. My manager and teammates fought to keep me, but the company had other plans.
The loneliness was crippling. I had no pod for most of 2020. I more or less lost my mind the day the sun didn’t rise in the Bay Area because of the wildfires. I mean — it rose, but the dark, blood-red skies were enough to drive anyone mad.
I took a job to survive, but it turns out that the company politics are so toxic that many of my colleagues are quitting, leaving in droves.
But still, I’m hopeful.