I haven't been blogging. It's something I've wanted to do since Washington issued the Stay at Home orders. I did a little bit, and I DID do some writing for a personal project of mine… But I haven't wanted to write for my blog. At ALL.

I was initially going to talk about how I've been super productive, like I've been drawing more, doing yoga, baking(!) but I just don't want to. I've even journaled a little bit, so I have been writing. For me, I feel like blogging would have been putting words to what an awful fucking year it really has been.

I am so lucky that my situation is such that I can still work safely from home. But I know not everyone has the privilege of doing that. I think about Jio at my favorite Thai restaurant in Kirkland and Frank at Salt & Straw. Are they doing alright? I think about the people at home like Anthony, one of the cleaners from the Apple Store I used to work at. Is he doing ok? Does he have someone who can help him file for unemployment if needed? Is someone taking care of him? I'm so worried for all the people who are or have in my life, even in really small ways, and pray fervently to whatever God is listening that they're ok. I really hope that they're ok.

That's just the start of it.

I haven't been able to sleep properly. Like yeah, I am sleeping and sometimes, really well, but I NEED to make sure I don't let the thoughts creep in so I'm up until 2am thinking about every worst possible case scenario that could ever happen. Those thoughts are the loudest. They start as a quiet whisper as I'm winding down for the night, watching the last minutes of a TV show. They get louder when I brush my teeth and get even louder if I decide to listen to them in safety of my dark room and warm blanket. Then, I'll ruminate on these thoughts, chewing on them like an animal gnawing at its own limb trying to escape from the trap it wandered into…

To sleep, sometimes I'll count my breaths.
Inhale. Exhale. One.
Inhale. Exhale. Two.

If I lose count, I start over. At least this way, the thoughts can't creep in. I'm finding that this is working less and less. It's probably because I've lost count of my own days. I don't know how many days we've been at home. To be fair, I could probably look it up. Most days look the same. I can't count how many days have been more similar to each other than different. Sometimes, I don't know which memories and events are closer to me than others.

Counting up doesn't work in the daylight. At night, counting up finishes when I fall asleep. Its purpose finishes when I start a new day. Maybe it's because it's shorter. Nowadays, I'm counting up to different goals. Defined but untimed goals. When will a vaccine be available? When will I be able to travel freely? When will I feel safe again? Will I feel safe again? Has that feeling of security be ripped away from me? Or is it that I'm more aware of its tenuous nature?

I realize now that a lot of people are counting up to things that may never come.

I guess I should say, counting up is a kind of countdown… Just counted differently. I have countdowns… A countdown to Election Day, one for when I see my family again, another one for Christmas, another one for Inauguration Day. All clearly defined and timed. There's some security in that… Right?

I know there isn't, but it's something to hold on to.