I know you’re necessary. I take you very seriously. And I respect you. I know we’re in the midst of a health crisis, and it is not my intention to minimize your importance in any way.
But I’m having a few issues.
I’ve barely left the house for weeks. I don’t have anywhere to be, but guess where I don’t want to be? Right. Home. I’m losing it. Yes, I’ve been unemployed for a long time. And I generally hate people. This whole situation should be easy for me. Oh, but it’s not. Everything is thrown off. The kids are here 100% of the time. [More on that later.] I am *never* alone. My routine is all fucked up. I’m bored as hell. I fantasize about going shopping for non-essentials. And I want to hug my mom.
Some people are using their extra time at home to get shit done. Not me. Nope. I’m too anxious… and I have no peace or motivation. I guess that’s normal for me, but it’s heightened. Having time isn’t really new for me [see aforementioned unemployment], but I wasn’t accomplishing much before. You’ve changed nothing. But damn, do I feel like a fucking waste of space when others tell me how much they’ve done since they’ve had to stay home. Not only have I not done shit during the last five weeks, but I didn’t do shit with any time I already had before you came along. I guess that’s my fault.
You’ve brought about these new catch phrases, and, God, how I loathe them. I never want to hear the words ‘new normal’ again. Fuck that. This is not normal and nothing anyone says will convince me that this is any form of normal… old, new… no. Just no. And how stupid is the term ‘social distancing’? We are not socially distant. We are physically distant. As we should be. But socially? No. Socially, we are more connected than ever. I have a group text with my mom and sisters. We talk every single day. Socially, we are much closer. Physically, we are apart. Easter was fucking sad. Especially for my mom and one of my sisters as they both live alone. Thanks a lot for that. (That was sarcasm, in case you didn’t get it.)
*Sigh* What was I saying? Oh, yes, back to the kids.
I’m going a special kind of crazy. They are good kids. Thankfully. But my god. I need a break. My teenage son stays up later than I do (into the wee hours of the morning) and sleeps ‘til afternoon. I don’t necessarily have a problem with that, but he does have schoolwork. My daughter is twelve, and I am so screwed if her bitchiness gets worse when she becomes a teenager. She picks fights… daily. And she is always talking. To me… to her brother… to my husband… to her friends. Would it be rude for me to tell her to just shut the fuck up for five minutes? Yes, I know it would. And when she’s on facetime with her friends, not only do I hear her talking, but I have to hear her friends talking, too. Oh. My. God. Kill me.
And the kids fight. Normal, I know. But I am sick of it. It’s a different version of the same fight every time, too: my daughter getting on my son’s case for not being nice enough to her; my son wishing she would just shut up and leave him alone. I can’t fix it. It’s not really mine to fix. But it’s mine to endure and I am so over it.
I try to distract myself. I’ve been baking too much. It’s not really the baking that’s the problem… it’s the eating. I might as well start applying desserts directly to my butt and thighs. [Sorry for the disturbing visual.] I try watching tv, but all I see is stuff about you. Even if I do find something decent to watch, you’re mentioned in every other commercial. You know the ones. ‘We’re all in this together‘ and other such ads? Those. They’re supposed to be uplifting, but honestly, they have the opposite effect.
You’re everywhere. And you’re fucking depressing, you know? I realize that’s rich coming from me, but there it is.
Sometimes, late at night, I lie in bed wondering if you’re real or if this is all just a bad dream. And if it is a dream, am I ever going to wake up? I’m afraid you’ll never go away.
p.s. — What the hell day is it anyway? I should check twitter. Did you know that each day, @twitter tweets out what day it is? I should retweet the Monday tweet on Tuesday. That would fuck with people.
p.p.s. — Thank you for not impacting my husband. If he wasn’t still going to work, that would surely push me over the edge, and no one wants to see me lose my shit.