It has been what? Several decades since COVID dropped. We all thought we were stressed before, hello Xanax, my friend, let me introduce you to tequila.
It's been sixteen years and several days since we've been sheltering in place. Every couple of days I am overcome by suffocating despair. I feel like there is no possible way that I will survive this and by this, I mean living. Each day I struggle to wake up. How will the hours play out? Will there be screaming? Punching? Crying? Or will there just be quiet while he is left to play his video games and not be a member of this family?
People are dealing with this pandemic differently. For the longest time, I was consumed by worry for the world and truthfully I still am. Now I am worried about my husband's mental well-being. He now sees what days are like buried in the same four walls with Andrew. Negotiating every single thing. School. Showers. Dinner. When we have the strength we fight Andrew to do what is expected of him. When we don't - we don't. They argue and taunt each other like schoolyard bullies. I am not blaming my husband it is hard to remember you are an adult when gut-wrenching agony meets every breath.
We all have our rows to hoe. I try hard to not complain - you may laugh - but I do. I have to express my disdain for those whining and complaining about "missing their friends" "missing going out" "sad that their kids are missing their friends." Missing friends? I haven't had friends for sixteen years. Yesterday, I was supposed to zoom to sing happy birthday to two little girls I adore. I did make them cookies and they were picked up. After a few hours of fighting, the time was 6:15 - and I failed again. I missed the call.
Someone complaining about a leaky sink sends me into a rage. I wish I had a leaky sink as my biggest problem. I realize that I am sounding like life is a pissing contest - it isn't. It just seems unfair that my worry is if I will be punched in the face because I told him he shouldn't have eaten the cookies for breakfast and someone else has a drippy faucet. To be fair, Jim takes the brunt of the violence - because he demands that Andrew follow some semblance of real life. We are at the end of the line here and will have to make some hard decisions once this pandemic has stopped its course or a vaccine is available.
Until then I try to breathe.
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