I thought I was okay.
In so many ways, I am okay. I have a solid roof over my head and food in my pantry. My husband still goes to work, and I still have a job. My adult children are healthy, making smart choices, and staying in contact. Our air conditioner is working through this 100+ degree Texas summer. I do the laundry each week, make the bed and empty the dishwasher every morning, drink sixty-four ounces of water every day. I even shower, and sometimes put on makeup even though I'm the only one who will see it. For the past few Thursdays, I've gone on road trips just to get out of the house.
See? I'm okay, in so many ways...
The first clue that I wasn't really okay was my planner. Every Sunday, I sit and write out what I need to do in the coming week. I don't ever get everything done, but most weeks I can check off at least half of my plans. These days, the planner is full of plans and woefully lacking in checkmarks.
The second clue was a bag of potato chips. I was standing at the kitchen counter eating from a bag of BBQ chips (yes, I know how unhealthy this is) and the doorbell rang. Mail, and not just mail, a delivery that won't fit in the mailbox! I gathered up the packages on the doorstep and walked out to the mailbox to get the rest of the delivery. After dropping off the mail inside, I washed my hands and puttered around for two hours before re-entering the kitchen and seeing the open bag of chips on the counter.
The third clue was a frying pan. Still in pajamas, I decided I wanted eggs for breakfast. I got out the frying pan, then went to the other end of the house to use the restroom. While there, I decided to make my bed and take a shower. An hour later I realized that I hadn't had breakfast, walked into the kitchen, and saw the frying pan on the stove.
I finally had to come to terms with my current mental state. Activities that I usually enjoy are being affected. Crochet projects are lying within reach, untouched. I can barely read five pages at a time before I find myself rereading sentences, trying to focus. There are days that I list, out loud, the next three things I need to do, and more often than not I get distracted before reaching number three. I am racking up Duolingo points (Spanish, Japanese, and now French, because why not?) and computer solitaire games in lieu of much needed cleaning and decluttering. I finally had to put myself on a no-spend challenge for July, because my retail therapy over the last three months was ridiculous.
I realized that I have been drifting around my house like a ghost since mid-June, when the school year effectively ended for me.
I'm not writing this to gain sympathy or as a cry for help. Now that I know that I'm not okay, I am taking steps to feel better--a bit less social media and news, reimplementing daily exercise and exposure to fresh air and sunshine, food journaling and habit tracking to hold myself accountable. I've accepted my inability to read a lot right now, and gave myself the grace not to book-blog for a couple of weeks.
I am writing this as a COVID19 diary entry.
I am writing this so that someone else can know that it's okay not to be okay, too.