journal

5.4.20 - #coronavirus2020 VIII

I miss my wife. I hate it when she’s gone.
Sounds like the lines of a country-western song.
She’s on the road with the girl, again. I’m alone
On the couch, eating feelings and worrying about
All that might go wrong. Even the dog is gone.
Before she left, she hugged me tight and whispered,
“I promise to keep this marriage safe.”
Even though I don’t want to, I wonder,
The inner demons start to play
I worry that she’d rather be in other company
Though she’s the one who begged me to stay.
I want to believe her so bad, I need to
What other choice do I have?
I love her, let her lie, let her go, live a lie?
We hope for something better to grow
Dressed the wounds and sank down below
Layers of sheets and tree, fog and breeze
Even if it hurts, even if it’s the worst outcome
Of a million ways I can see our story going
At least for me, it was worth it to know
Love deep enough to get hurt, live through it
Do no wrong, try to pass no judgment
Tell them you love them, though the hurt shows
Be a better man, do the best you can
Let them know you love them, every time they go.

Anyone else scared out of their mind about how bad it’s gonna be by June? Asian killer bees, a likely explosion of pandemic cases in Georgia. People out like everything’s fine, not wearing masks. In a few weeks… Jesus. It worries me. Seems like the worst possible sci-fi plot.

I think my money is now on “Rushed Vaccine Causes Zombification,” at this point. Or we go to war with China over the lie of who manufactured the virus? That puts the Red Dawn scenario at play. But I’m lucky, able to arm-chair speculate from the relative safety of a back porch. Crickets are in the background. Some people aren’t so lucky. The virus is ravaging minorities at a savagely disproportionate rate, evidence of a medical system in need of desperate and complete reform.

Maybe it’s the fatalist in me, but I’m trying to make sure I tell my family I love them. Even when things hurt. Even when they hurt.

4.2.20 - #corona2020 VI

Points of light share their grace in the dead of night
A backyard porch and empty streets, lonely cries
Asking stars if they’ve witnessed this story before
Have wonderous other worlds survived these plights
Are they twinkling to bless us with rays of hope
Telling us to hold tight, everything will be alright

I’m exhausted. First one to admit that I haven’t been sleeping. I haven’t been writing the past few days. We’re all struggling on the inside in these long, silent days. Filling the time with the things we probably would have done anyway, but gravity seems heavier on our shoulders now. We’re lucky, so far. My income is still stable for now, but we’ve taken a hit. Every trip to the grocery store, I’m wondering if I should bring a mask. I don’t have a good one yet, and I keep my distance. The lines are long, the toiletries are gone.
J has had to sleep on the couch to keep the triggers from being bad, something we’re hoping the new scripts take care of. But the adjustment is awful. My own scripts… I don’t know how well they’re working. Still takes me forever to fall asleep, even in bed. I don’t know if it’s a comfort or a shared sadness that I know I’m not the only one.
So I turn on an app that plays the sounds of rain and storms. I miss her, it sucks sleeping alone.
A year ago, I took the bandages off the staples in my knee, after the blowout. I posted a recovery picture and thought maybe put it here, because why not. I’m still writing, I’ll get back to it. Between GR and Robyn (still need a better title), I’ve got plenty I can do.
Yoga, elastic bands, and the recumbent bike have helped, but I haven’t done it consistently.

Lookout, the picture is kind of brutal. I’ve probably got 60% of function back, but the strength is just… gone. 30 pounds of weight loss probably included a lot of atrophy. Hopefully this year is the year I get the strength back.

3.30.20 - #corona2020 V

Is there anyone sleeping well anymore?
Either the brain is rolling a thousand miles
An hour, in the haunted still of night
Or the walls are too tight and we’re desperate for daylight
I don’t remember the last time I laid my head down
And felt rested the next morning, renewed
We’re sitting on our hands, trying to pass the time
Reflecting on all our mistakes, all the lies

It’s been hard to be productive. I’ve gotten the job done, now thankful that I have a steady income when one out of five has filed for unemployment, including J. Trying to do yoga in the sunroom followed by elliptical bands and the recumbent bike lying in the garage, just to move a little during the week. Hoping I can find a bit of drive to really edit GR and work on the Robyn story. Need something to do, to feel useful.

J seems to have gotten L to a place where she’s a little more stable. We’re still a long way from out of the woods yet, but every day is a won day. Even when the world outside is falling into a recession unlike anything ever seen in modern history, due to a viral pandemic and a political narrative out of a Michael Chrichton novel. D is coughing less, thankfully we don’t think anyone has COVID but since there’s still not a real chance of us getting tested in our current condition, we’re just riding out the storm.

Thankful for little moments, like D winning at Cards Against Humanity. Chasing Janeway in the backyard. Playing Diablo with J at three in the morning, dancing in the living room during dinner.