Two years

I’ve been thinking about the last two years because I’m going down a hellish rabbit hole.

Two years and I’m no better off. I still can’t spend an entire workday at a computer. I am not supposed to drive at night. I read large print books and struggle with screens.

I walked away from a good job with a nice set of benefits and room to grow. I don’t have that career anymore, not really. I do a fraction of my original job at a small clinic getting paid less than half with out the perks. Given coronavirus, I’m working at home and it’s a job, which isn’t something I can take for granted.

I started at the bakery last year because I couldn’t work at a computer more than 2 hours at a time. That didn’t turn out exactly as planned but it was something. I then started baking myself but it was difficult to scale it up alone, then quarantine hit.

I’m not unemployed. I’m underemployed and struggling. I can’t do much more with either thing given some of my limitations- both personal and circumstances.

Other people are out of work. Black people are trying to survive. Covid is decimating families and small businesses. I shouldn’t complain.

Except I’m stuck. I’m in a negative loop personally. I’m bogged down with my parents issues and worried I’ve spent the last two years in a similar pattern to their middle years.

Detached retina, discontinued disability, pelvic surgery, failed infertility treatment, sudden double carpal tunnel surgery, early miscarriage. 2018 had a lot of craziness after we got married and 2019 was tough. 2020 was supposed to be better. Covid. Well, there went that.

I know I need to get past this. I know I will. But trying to get my parents in a nursing home and survive cabin fever and deal with worsening physical issues have worn me down this week and I’m done.

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