Boy, it’s been quiet in here but I’m here right now, even if it’s just for a moment.
I don’t want to talk about long Covid. I really don’t, but my whole life now revolves around pacing and brain fog. If you had to pick one thing a day to do, groceries, having coffee with a friend, having an argument, doing your part-time tutoring job, getting some exercise, or cooking a meal, how would you choose?
I’ve decided that making meals for my guys is important. I clean the cat litter, but I also choose to read books. Yes, reading has become something that’s harder for me and takes a toll. I still choose reading. I also still choose a few friends. Losing friends has been hard. I find myself telling my physical therapists more than I’d tell a friend over the third drink.
Can you see my brain injury in my writing? I’m going to have to let it show eventually. It’s embarrassing, thoroughly embarrassing. But I can’t organize the way I used to. I hear it when I talk, I don’t make as much sense. I used to do all that without a thought. My subconscious mind was smarter than I was, and the organization just happened. The ends of some stories just reached out and touched their beginnings. Now, I make lists and sometimes have trouble following them. It’s mild, but I feel it. Mike and Nick notice. I wonder if some of my friends notice.
And I really didn’t want to talk about my limitations today. But sometimes, it feels like a cage around me. I can look out and see the rest of the world, running freely, but the wires keep me in. The sad part is that I’m not sure those free people can feel the joy of their freedom. I’m learning to feel what joy I have left, but my cage keeps shrinking as I try to be quiet and stay joyful.
Thank you for listening, jules