2022-07-05 / 2:59 p.m.

I've been reading Pride and Prejudice for what feels like forever. The days have melted into a blur. I am tired. Fatigued beyond belief. My internal ableism pushes me to believe that I'm actually not sick because hey, I look fine, so I keep telling myself to push on through. But I can't push on through. I'm exhausted. I got covid in April. It took my neurological symptoms and ran with them. As bad as things had been, they've gotten worse. A few days out of isolation and my aunt's husband was killed in a bike accident. It was a windy day. A farm gate blew out onto the road in front of him. He clipped it, and crashed into a tree. Dead. More fucking death this year. I'm carrying grief that I feel as though I don't even have a right to carry.

I was offered work, two different times in one week, and I had to turn it down because I still can't sit in a fucking chair. Forever sounds like an awfully long time. My neck is unstable. I used to joke that at least my elbows don't hurt, but now, after a walk, I sit in my car and my elbows ache along with every other joint in my body. I wonder about mobility aids. I wonder about different medications. I can't afford any of it. I can't carry any of it. What do I do? Where do I put the grief, the lethargy, the boredom?