Things are hard.
I feel like that has become my motto in the past 16 months, since the pandemic hit. In many ways it still feels like I am forever stuck in a Groundhog’s day loop of March 2020, living the pandemic hit, the news of my brother, the initial FMLA request, and the crumbling of just about everything I knew around me. Things that felt safe, things that I took for granted, were suddenly disappearing around me.
Things as simple as toilet paper. Who TF hoards toilet paper? Thank God for bidets - and my BF, who was adamant we get one when we first moved into this house. I was hesitant, but now, BF, thank you for the bidet. Good move.
They day my brother died was the day my life stood still, and stayed in a frozen parallel for several months. Coming fresh off of a divorce, a job change I desperately wanted, a move, and a few other personal challenges, this sudden crash of chaos hit me in a way unlike what I had experienced before. Even though I had been through personal devastation and just had my whole life rocked, here I was again, a year later, doing the same thing under harder circumstances.
There is more. The grief is so thick it needed a chainsaw to carve a dent in it.