If I could tear April out of its binding, neatly, at the seam, so that March and May would be none the wiser, I would. April has been the chewing gum forever latching on to my shoe sole, the ring on the coffee table, the umbrella pulling into the sky, inside out, while I’m scrambling to run from a thunderstorm. I wish I could fold it into an origami plane and flick it away into the starless sky holding all of the disintegrated hopes of this pandemic.
I am so glad it’s over.
A doctor put me on Amitriptyline for my neck pain, and somehow, it did the opposite of what it was supposed to do, depression and anxiety cloaking me so tightly that no, I didn’t want to die, but I also did not want today. My world became smaller, and conjuring up a to-do list, a goal, an idea, all elicited a car sickness. Screaming into a pillow felt like the only release, and yet, it too, was too exhausting. With the half-life of this drug nearing its end, I feel almost like myself again, but this month, the concepts of caring, socializing, creating, producing pressed their hands into the glass, and I was on the other side, watching the weeks go by, motionless.
I wanted to send my dad a letter this month, with some photos for the little walls in his studio apartment. I printed the photos but felt too broken for words, so they’re still on my windowsill now.
I wanted to colour my hair, but the pain in my shoulders was too much.
I learned and wrote, and learned, and thought, and wrote, about myself and why I feel so deeply, incredibly low. I never want to see those notes again, and I now fill my days with distractions because, as I discovered, there is such thing as overthinking.
My Something Productive was an attempt at redecorating our apartment, currently featuring flowers and Minions, and Notorious B.I.G. lyrics on a canvas, and candles, and stacks of old notebooks, and a mini globe of Ottawa which Jeff proudly displayed and which I will forever love; a dinosaur puzzle, race medals, a drawing of a brain, unworn Santa socks, and a creepy Kinder Surprise toy in the shape? of a soviet? bunker? …Jeff still makes me laugh, as do those things. I didn’t want to touch them.
We walked up Howth mountain this month and the sun and wind blew into my ears and eyes until I couldn’t think, and I felt so wonderfully light-headed, a feeling carried by the Heinekens we had on our way down. I love Howth- my Something New Again.
On the darkest days, I found the courage to walk with a friend. We sat, surrounded by green bushes and acorns, our coffees, and seagulls eyeing anything worth a peck. It isn’t lost on me how important friendships are.
Oh, I also ran 5 kilometres for the first time since last year.
Soon, when my neck doesn’t hurt, when there are planes in the sky again, when you get that promotion because you stuck around, when you look in the mirror and see your pretty eyes, this will be but a satirical etching in a weird little year we remember with equal parts empathy and neglect.
Don’t give up, don’t lose hope.
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