It is one am on Christmas morning. I am wide awake and feeling stressed. This has been a hard year. The year of living in solitude.
It could be worse I know. Luckily, I have my husband and the moms here. But I am all in my head and just want to sleep. This week, I've been very bad company. I'm irritable, then jolly then irritable again.
The pandemic is just starting to hit me. Today, I feel as if I'm being pelted by metaphoric bricks. My heart hurts. And my brain.
I can still taste last night's beer on my breath. Silently in my head, I tell myself that for Christmas I will detox and exist on water and caffeine. Drinking makes everything worse. The panic that is always right below the surface with me comes welling up.
So here I am. It's Christmas and the house is so quiet that nothing is stirring except me, this little mouse.
Merry Christmas. I wish I had joyful thoughts to make you feel peace and comfort. But all I got to give is this. Just this.
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