Somebody in pandemic times

I realized I hadn't written a blog in more than two weeks. The days are merging. At this point, I'm just trying to get through every week to the weekend.

But weekends don't really help. I used to be able to decompress. Now I just work all week and I sleep away much of the weekend. I'm so tired. Nothing is very fun except my podcast but that is every other week.

Work is hard. The anxiety of exposure is difficult in court, but perhaps preferable to working in my little bubble upstairs. In my office, I lose hours and hours lost in my caseload and when I pop out of it I see it as an exercise in futility. I keep on fighting. Fighting for my clients is the air that keeps me breathing. 

Where will I be after this is over? I'm not sure. I've seen firsthand how horrible the world can be. I can't put my blinders back on. I will be forever irrevocably changed.

Up until now, I've tried to remain as positive as I could. But, will this ever really be over?

The pandemic may have shined a light on just how fragile and hard life is. Pre-pandemic, many of us, present company included, were lulled into a false sense of security. It was entitlement. I saw how hard life was for many in my deputy public defender practice but did I feel it? I don't think I truly did until now. 

Now I feel it. I really do. 

Yet, all is not lost. I know that. Art is the answer for me right now. Writing helps me forget. It helps me to remember. It eases my mind I suppose. For that, I am grateful.