you sing the words but don't know what it means

A brief history of the last three-and-a-half years.

2017 Texas hit by Hurricane Harvey.

2017 Moved.

2017 Lost a job.

2018 Moved.

2018 Lost another job.

2019 Lost another job.

2020 A friend was murdered. And her sons.

2020 And then the rest of 2020 happened.

2020 Moved back to my home state.

2021 Moved again.

Sprinkle in a significant amount of relational and religious turmoil, and I am not okay.

My friend's memorial nearly a year ago was the last event I attended and the last time I would hug anyone for seven-and-a-half months. We all knew the risks of attending. COVID was confirmed to be in our county. No one was wearing masks yet. No one had any. A few friends had to skip due to health concerns.

COVID shutdowns began shortly after. Seven-and-a-half months without a hug while grieving and navigating physically alone.

Friends were as present as possible and I cherish the socially distanced hangs and the phone conversations.

But I am not good at taking up space.

And sometimes when you are basking in sunlight it's hard to remember to share that it's been really cold. And your fingers are frozen and your heart is fighting the numb.

Except, it's not fighting. Not really. Numb is how you'll survive. Maybe. And maybe that's why I haven't written any of this.

It is.

Because I couldn't afford the energy to connect with any of it.

But now that the fourth move in three-and-a-half years is done and I'm allowing myself to feel settled, I think I can spend the energy on dealing with the last several years.

I'm not okay.
And that's okay.
I'm currently pandemic okay.
But I'm working toward normal good.

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Post title from "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)" by My Chemical Romance