Oh, thank you LAWD, it’s Friday.
I haven’t been in a good headspace this week. I’m worried about Shawshank, and how this ordeal is going to affect him in the long run. It’s not going to be pretty. The worst part for him, I think, will be the time between his release and my move. It’s a hella tiny town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. When he was first arrested, his mother asked me to act as a go-between if he wanted to send her any letters from jail. “The post lady would see the return address from the jail and everyone would know about it within the week,” she explained.
At the same time, I’m emotionally drained. I’m working with the public, and essential worker during the time of a global pandemic. I should be happy to even have a job right now. However, I go to work every day with the fear that we’ll be hit with the virus. We’re operating under the assumption every patient is the outbreak monkey that will infect the pharmacy. If I’m sick, I can’t do what I need to do. I won’t even begin to get into the anxiety about what could happen if Covid-19 strikes Shawshank‘s unit.
On top of the constant fear of infection, I want to do some good by donating the things I’m not taking with me, but I can’t get them out of the house right now. Having boxes and bags everywhere leaves me feeling like I’m not accomplishing anything. I know the growing number of boxes indicates things are happening, but my brain just sees a growing mess. Between my worries about him and trying to clear everything out, I feel like I don’t have the energy to worry about myself. My #selfcaresaturday doesn’t do much, because taking care of myself makes me feel like I should be spending my time on something more productive.
Instead, I spent last night setting up care packages for Shawshank. I want one for me.
Tonight, it’s the Friday fast food feast. I’ll do my usual round after work, picking up some groceries before ordering dinner. Tomorrow, I’ll do a long-ass workout, and get back to cleaning and selling everything.
