Quarantine Journal - Free Writing

Heather encouraged me to write. I don't know what to do with it, so I guess I will leave it here.  When you read this, please know that I am your mother.  I love you, and I never have wanted to nor will I ever feel a need to run away from you.  You are my everything, and what you are reading below is a stress purge.  I love your father as well, and though things are stressful and tense, we will figure out a way to get back on the same side again soon, I hope.

Love,

Mom

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Run away.  

It's not the first time I've heard this voice today.  I know it will not be the last.  It seems to be increasing on a daily basis.  Just run.  The fight or flight instinct has been activated, only I'm tired of fighting and there is nowhere to run to.  

In one way or another, I suppose we spend our entire lives fighting.  But this last year especially; it was the year of battles.  Fight to stay alive.  Fight to protect my family. When the plumbing broke, I was fighting to get us back in the house.  When the contractors laced every repair in neglect and incompetence, I fought them to do the right thing.  When the development of my website screeched along at the raging speed of a snail, I fought to keep things moving forward. We fought against hatred and racism in the presidential election.  We fought against the ignorance and foolishness of a country hellbent on denying the science of a pandemic.  We fought to keep their words from penetrating our subconscious, spiking our thoughts with doubt and shame.  We fought to keep going, to keep changing the world.

And then 2021 rolled around the corner.  We knew nothing would really change, not immediately, but I don't think this anyone was prepared for so much of the same.  Or worse.  And it really was worse.  

My web developer quit.  I could hardly hear or care for his reasoning over the volume of the voice inside me that was once again screaming that it was time to go.

Just go!

Where? Where would I go?

Anywhere.  Just start running and figure it out later.

My friends fell ill with covid.

There is nothing you can do for them now.  Throw away your phone and run.

The stress at my husband's job continued to amplify to the point that there was no talking about it.  He was at war with himself, and so he was at war with everyone around him.  Especially me.  I would ask for information, desperately grasping for some kind of order in the world of chaos around me, and I would immediately regret it.  It always seemed to play out exactly how I expected it to.

He would snap.

Run.

He was short.  Irritated.  Exasperated.  Sometimes he would just walk away.

You can't keep doing this.

The world was crumbling around us, but instead of leaning in, we were growing further and further apart.

You can't save this by yourself. Imagine how quiet it would be if you just walked out the door and kept walking until you couldn't walk anymore.

And then what?

Who cares?

That is a ridiculous answer.  I can't just walk until sun down and then lay down on the street.

Why not?

We are only 12 days into this year and already I am defeated.  I have no fight left.  I anticipate the battles of every day with a lead weight in my soul, and I dream about a quiet room, completely exiled, where I could just sit in a corner and melt away until I simply ceased to exist anymore.

Run away.

I wish I could.

It would be so quiet.

Yes.

There would be no one to fight with.

I have no fight left.

You could just sleep until there was only sleep.

I am so very tired. I am so defeated. All I want is to sleep.  I just want to run away from my own mind and finally rest.