Red overwhelmed the toilet bowl. It tasted metallic even though it only met my eyes. I was warm, giddy. I was also unprepared, on so many levels. No pads, no tampons, no hope. I had released hope a long time ago, letting it dissolve into resolution.

You may not agree with my opinions on white chocolate or hockey, but my mind will not be changed.

I did not and do not prefer feelings. I value logic and intellect, and my anxiety was already hijacking those north stars with all its might. I certainly didn’t need something as stupid as love to also be muscling out my carefully honed sense of reason. 

This whole unfortunate situation that is my life means that I am very frequently telling people I am fine when I am not. I can put myself back in those moments easily. There are many. The most potent of which happen at work. 

At first, new beginnings must be practiced. You’re shaky and unstable, teaching your brain a new way to be by just going through the motions. Everyone says that it’ll eventually become second nature, but I’m too smart to assume I’ll make it that far. 

Written at a time when we couldn’t leave our homes, I view my home office as though it’s new to me, and reflect on learnings from pandemic quarantine.

After sheltering in place for weeks, looking out the window takes on new depth and meaning.

For a long time, I had a tendency to live in fantasy. By now I realize that it was a coping mechanism. Not really fully healthy or unhealthy. Rather, a mix. Perhaps even neutral. My daydreaming was actually just what seems to happen to a lot of people for real.