Hold my beer.
Last Friday I had a total emotional meltdown. Apparently, my honest expression of raw emotion in that blog post was so raw that a number of people reached out to some of my closest friends with concern about my well-being. It was nice to know that people cared enough to be worried, but it is important to know that I am going to be totally honest and totally real in these posts. I’m not suicidal, nor am I in any danger of harming myself . . . I am just at a point where I feel like I am one, exposed nerve ending just waiting to be activated.
That brings me to today. Here’s a dramatization of my day:
Tommy: Wow. Friday was awful. I cannot imagine feeling any worse than that.
2020: Oh? Here, hold my beer.
Today started just fine. Not great, but ok. I had work to accomplish and things were going along fine. In fact, I made it almost all the way through the day without any significant issues. That did not last. I won’t go into details since it would entail me ranting in public about things that are best left more private for reasons of my continued hope to remain employed.
But suffice to say that I am not a happy camper tonight. This whole pandemic experience has been like the Coronacoaster I talked about in yesterday’s post – and today was a perfect example of riding along thinking everything is ok, then suddenly being dropped down and spun around and turned upside down without warning.
The one bright point to my day was the first in what I hope will be a series of live online interviews with artists. It was great fun and something that made me feel, briefly, like my life has purpose and meaning. Now, sitting alone and typing this post, I find myself falling back into a sad zone of wondering why I even try.
So today is another ride on the Coronacoaster. I dread to know what 2020 has in store for me next. If I ask, I fear I’ll here what I heard today.
“Here. Hold my beer.”
It’s only Quarantine if it comes from the Quarante province of France. Otherwise, it’s just Sparkling Isolation.