My head is throbbing and heavy – as I wake up, play the games in the NYTs, watch the candle burn on your alter.
Lately PTSD scene waft in and I breathe them stage right. Always the hospital, always that six months 2 1/2 years ago. Even my posture in bed reminds me of trying to get you comfortable in bed – pulling you up. all so clumsy and panicked. It lies there quaking under my skin…everything reminds me of you… and brings me back to the fact I’m alone in the house.
The isolation of long covid is real. I’ll go to some events, but masked. One of the few left doing so. But I’ve got to keep my self moving forward. The fact that I have no idea how my day physically will go – that at no point can I forget my balance, the buzzing in my limbs, the nausea and my ever wandering focus can take me on a journey well out of my planned outcome.
But I’m greatful for the days that led me here. A path chosen, with chances taken, brave in the face of the love scape we/I travelled.