You’re Still Here.
Bless me father, for I have sin– no, wait, that’s not right.
Forgive me, readers, for I have not blogged. It has been five months since my last post.
I can’t quite recall how I felt at the wind-down of 2019. I don’t typically make resolutions, but did I have high hopes for 2020? I cannot remember. Things were pretty great for me, so I don’t know if I kicked 2019 out the door, or gently waved it adieu.
This has been the longest and shortest of years.
We have all suffered greatly this year — to varying degrees. It has most certainly been a year of comparisons.
Well, you have a job at least.
I have an immunodeficiency.
You don’t have kids, you wouldn’t get it.
Look at those sheep.
Look at those sheep.
The rules don’t apply to me.
You sent your child to school?
How could they keep their kids home?
I think if I had to sum up the year in a word, there’s a strong chance I’d fall on “condescension”. From all sides… and I’m not even sorry about it, it’s human nature. I’m not here to tell you I don’t judge, because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that hell yes, I judge.
You don’t wanna wear a mask? You don’t wanna follow the guidelines? You still got together with family? You’re bragging about how fucking productive you are when people are struggling to just survive? You hop from Facebook post to Facebook post lying about basically everything just to garner attention at a time when real people with real struggles are hurting? Ok, maybe that last one’s a little over-specific. My nerves are raw. I am raw from all my judging.
And you’re raw from it all, too, because it’s impossible not to cast judgement on the daily, no matter which side of the hot topics you fall on. We’re all judging.
See how fast I spiral into this? It’s just not healthy.
I’ve spent the entire year reminding myself to refocus inwards and prioritize gratitude. You know I despise toxic positivity, but wow, I cannot bear a morose Debbie Downer, either. Yup, this sucks, from all angles. It really, really sucks.
But you’re still here.
It doesn’t matter that your jeans don’t fit. Aw, poor you, you didn’t get to Mexico this year. If you have a roof over your head, something warm to eat, and a friend (maybe two), you’re lucky.
It can be a struggle, we can be absolutely miserable and complain about it all, and still be thankful it isn’t worse for us. Two things can be true.
I am still here, my children are still here, and my parents are still… well, not here, but over there in their own province, they’re safe and alive.
2020 was a blessing for me, in so many ways. I’m not going to list them, because what it gave to me, it may have torn from the hands of someone else. I am sensitive to the struggles of others. I am grateful for what I have, and miserable for the struggles this year has presented.
I will continue to focus on modelling resilience to my kids. I’ll continue the efforts to spread kindness, not germs. I will do my very best to be the parent my kids deserve, and the human being the world deserves.
I hope that at the end of 2021, you’ll still be here, too.