in writing i most often take small, beautiful moments and re-illuminate them, find something in them. i am finding little to love about these long weeks.

i wake up too early every day, go to bed too late, the insides of me ticking with a pace that doesn't belong to this world any more. last year i'd have used the energy. this year it sits inside my body, coiling up and pushing at the edges of my self-image.

who am i when i am not productive? i wish this question was not so unsettling.

in the beginning i saw those memes about "take the opportunity to sit still," "reconnect," "nature is healing and can heal you," you all saw the white women posting them. aside from the poor timing, aside from the poor grammar and graphics, the forced recognition of personal space, pace, and load has not been welcome.

what's the point of finally being able to sit with how queer i am, how tired i am, how focused i am, how independent i am? there is nowhere to go with that knowledge, no access point to community or solidarity that would make me feel better about the kind of odd beast i have turned into.

to look back at my first writings in the quarantine, i already predicted my own outcome: that i will remain sunk in swirling doubts and needs and pressures (this is a feature of the environment i choose, not a bug), all the while knowing there is nothing to be done but wait, and be still in the center of it.

what would anyone else do if all the workhorses stopped working?
what does it take to free all the workhorses?

i just feel soooo overwhelmed. and i feel so keenly right now my most common deep-heart complaint: what if i wasn't capable? what if i wasn't as fiercely determined, as able to find resources, as stalwart, as strong, as adaptive? what if i couldn't do this-- then it must necessarily go a different way-- so why can't it now go another way? why does this whole situation have to land squarely on my own shoulders?
but no, i'll just keep making lists of christmas gifts to give, work projects to complete, recipes with cheap ingredients we can afford.
i feel like i can't have a savings account because, with someone entirely dependent on my income, i still feel like i owe honesty about the assets i do have. how can i say, you can't have money for pot, because in six months we're going to call a plumber? how can i say, you can't have money for toilet paper or shampoo or dog food, because in three months the fuel lines in my car need to be replaced? but i have to, i have to find a way to do that, otherwise we will never be able to take long-term care of ourselves.
the level of dependency that rae has on me is endangering my ability to be as independent as i need to be, in order to be satisfied with my own life, values, and identity.
how many times have i said, we need to talk about money? how many times, we need a plan? how many times, monthly budgeting and costs?
if i lose my health insurance again in 2020 it will be because i chose to afford rae's living expenses over my own. it will be because i chose rae's health over my own.
i'm not okay, and, you can't support me if you are not willing to work through a whole discussion about money, resources, energy, and time.
the back pain is at this point metaphorical.

I DONT THINK IM CRAZY
i do think i'm alone
i do think the people around me do not support me; some of them are allowed the excuse of years of training to not do anything to or for me
but now i am wondering if that's a sign that i am in the wrong place

if i cannot move the board, i am the wrong leader for the board
if i cannot be an equal partner in my relationship, i am in the wrong relationship

i feel gaslighted. how does everyone around me say the right thing and do nothing? how do we share these common values and yet i get to hold all the bags? why do we have discussions in which we mutually agree to participate in a project, and then i am responsible for its execution and completion? that includes cleaning the stupid fucking kitchen.

what would happen if i did nothing for anyone else for one whole day?