Why hello there! Not only am I still in survival mode, but my fingers are wooden from the cold, and my eyes are going crossed because I am so exhausted from this past week of work. By the time you read this (because keep in mind I write these a few months in advance) hopefully things will be better for me.
I just moved to a new city, new apartment, and new job because I couldn’t find a job in my home town that paid a living wage. Let me tell you, this move took a lot out of me physically and emotionally. Not to mention Covid is still hanging around and I have to think about “Is this gas station safe to go inside? Am I going to expose the people who were kind enough to help move me?” Because I switched homes, I didn’t abandon my people. They’re stuck with me. Lately, I’ve been simply working on how to get the next thing I need. How do I get clean clothes to go to my new job with? How do I get to my job if my car just broke down again? How do I pay for gas to get to this stinkin’ job? Can I turn the heat up in here or is it going to break the bank? My air mattress sprung a leak. Do you think packing tape will work to fix it? All the questions like that press in on you until you’re so drained from just trying to stay somewhat okay, you realize it’s been days since you’ve actually written a scratch. Or painted… I mean, this is a blog about writing but you do you boo boo. You could be beating yourself up about not playing the flugelhorn right now. I don’t know your life.
I know you’re used to Auntie Helen’s German butt bullying you to greatness but: SURPRISE! It’s okay. It’s okay if all you do for a period of time is survive. Like, bruh, how you gunna write if you don’t figure out how you’re going to eat today? It’s okay. No, really, it’s okay.
Like, did we not learn this in Covid? You know, the part where we were all under quarantine and were too depressed and frightened to function? Now we eat fear for breakfast! *Throws glitter* Not really. But, I’m sure you get the point I’m trying to make even though I can’t see it because my eyes keep crossing.
Survival mode will drain your creativity. Just like in Minecraft. Ya know, the zombies try to eat your face so you can’t put 60 cakes in your inventory, or however this game works. Idk, the young friends I play with would probably laugh at me. Some of us just want to build sprawling panda ranches and golden castles! Which, ehem, since life is not Minecraft, that’s not an option in real life. Bruh, you gotta work your butt off to keep the lights on and the roof over your head. I’m not going to shame you for needing to work 60 some odd hours a week! You’re allowed to be tired! You’re allowed to be frightened. You’re even allowed to work 20, say “I have nothing left to give” then collapse in a heap. Or even “My chronic illness is spanking my buns right now and I’m just going to curl into a little ball for a few years until I feel better.” and work 0 hours. Like, being in pain takes a crap-ton of energy.
No one comes to this blog for coddling, but this time you’re getting it. Sometimes life just punches you in the teeth like a grand symphony of violence, and you’re left reeling. It’s okay if you don’t have the juice for your… Uh, flugelhorn, I guess. Sometimes surviving is enough and you definitely need to quit beating yourself up for it.
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