I have no idea where 2022 has gone. A few days ago I was shocked it’s May already and somehow June is racing toward me.
In a household of two chronic people there’s always give and take. But we tag team between us and between whatever our fluctuating capacities are.
Until acute things crush you on top. Two months of acute struggle. Tiny things derail the best laid plans. Things people would tell you are too insignificant to consider, to talk about, to complain about. If it’s small, it can’t hurt?
No wonder the pandemic has been so badly handled. A virus is small.
Small hurts. Lots of small crushes.
Is the acute gone? I hope so. I also hope there’s a big gap of time until the next one. I feel like it takes chronic people three times as long to get over acute things. There’s the immediate downtime after, the racing to catch up, then the burnout from racing to catch up.
If I believed that, and I do (some days), then the past two months will take most of the year to recover from. It’s sensible and sad.
