Warning: Real Life Issues with No Magical Fix
This blog isn't gonna be a witty one. It's not about dragons or RP gaming antics. This is the highlight reel from 2020.
So... why am I posting this? To inspire my readers? To tug your heart with yet another round of Hallmark channel 'pity porn.' (In that most infamous year of the twenty-first century, a disabled adult grapples with the question of mortality and overcomes depression with the power of family.)
Hah, hah, nope. I'm writing this for myself - to vent. Last year mauled me mentally and emotionally.
However, the first step of proper wound care is being honest about damage.
All Aboard the Trauma Train
2020 wasn't the worst year of my life. Despite plague, political unrest, and continual panic attack triggers, it didn't shatter my world. My secret? I come pre-traumatized due to my overly-complicated backstory. I've had practice with surviving.
None of that changes the fact that 2020 was a horrible ordeal. Dismissing the pain because 'I've had worse' is NOT healthily coping. It devalues the sorrow and struggles.
Spoiler: None of the Main Characters Died...
My sister caught the plague, developed post-COVID syndrome, and lost her job. Her life is definitely shattered. There's even been talk of her and the husband moving into the spare bedroom.
This was a BIG DEAL. People have died from this. My sister was the 'healthily' one in our family. She's now frailer than me. I had to go without seeing her for four months, and we're still hyper-vigilant about flu and weaker viruses.
Yet, all I can think is “Thank God she's still's here.”
You know who else is at risk from the plague? Elderly people, like say... my last surviving grandparent.
I was, and still am, keeping a close eye on my Gran. She's developed short-term memory loss and mobility issues. Yet somehow, she managed to avoid the plague. We celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday with carry-out pizza.
Gran was not a major source of stress last year. Watching my Mom and Aunt trying to plan out all the logistics of caring for her during outbreak and lock-down? It's been like living in a Redneck Soap Opera.
...except the dog didn't make it, and the cat, and then dog again T-T
If you read my earlier posts, you should know that my thirtieth birthday featured a kitty euthanasia. What I left out was that it was the second pet death that year. My beloved poodle Blackberrie had died earlier in June.
That was rough. I'm still unpacking my grief bit by painful bit. It hasn't helped that 2020 had one final kick-to-the-fork. I found my other dog Gavin dead in the yard on the 28th.
(I don't know if/when I'll get another dog. My sister and Gran's housing situation is too unstable. Being an adult isn't easy sometimes, and I still have a cat or two.)
Yet More Stressors
Lock-down was rough - not just because we have crappy internet. Our household's income went down by about twenty-five percent. We went to the food pantry. We turned down the heater. Christmas and birthdays were a bit leaner (but no less thoughtful).
Mercifully, we never lost power, water or went without prescription medications. Between a debt-free lifestyle and disability income, we made it. However, things like book launches, replacing the laundry machine, and medical follow-up just have to wait.
Money doesn't make the world go 'round. But things definitely squeak and rasp without it.
The Year Has Gone. Observe its Path
My personal journals tell a tale of stress and uncertainty. However, the fact there is a record at all is a good thing. When I am truly and deeply hurt, words leave me. I think in raw feelings, living on pure routine and reflex.
In 2020, I was safe enough to write out my thoughts. I was safe enough to heal and rest instead of pushing onward for the sake of survival. I was safe enough to scream, “It hurts!”
2020 left deep scars. Just hanging up a new calendar won't magically make the hurt stop.
However, it's 2021, and battered isn't broken. I'm still alive.
