I had plans for a different monologue today, but my 3 AM creative brain had an idea it couldn’t drop. I woke up from a dream feeling ready to mourn the losses of the past three years. It’s not easy to admit, but I’ve been not so secretly punishing myself for how I responded to the pandemic. It was ugly, fraught with fear, trying to make sense of the internal and manage the external. I took care of those around me, but I stumbled deeper into debt, wrestled with depression, ate food to numb the pain, and gained weight. I knew what I was doing, and while my reactions were nothing short of vicious, I couldn’t stop. Fortunately, I heard a different story playing in my mind as I stared at the ceiling, wondering why I couldn’t fall back asleep.
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