It's Been a While

 I haven't written in a long time. Writing was a passion but, when it became a job, it became more pressure than release. I know that, to be a good writing teacher, I should write. But life makes me tired and writing isn't something I like to do when I'm tired. 

And yet, here I am. Tired and writing. In my continued pursuit of happiness, this has been a challenging year - or three years. Everyone is tired from this pandemic. Or they are just ignoring it. Many have found new paths and new people because of it, while others have lost people and paths. I'm not here to write about the pandemic, but I would be telling half-truths if I didn't acknowledge it's place in life.

My chest feels so heavy. I worry that it's a heart attack or blood clot. I could spiral worrying that there is something physically wrong with my insides. But the most likely cause is anxiety. 

I try to practice the tools that I know will help my anxiety - painting, playing piano, talking to people I love, moving my body. Today, the thought of doing those things - when I've already tried them - is not motivating. And so, I'm writing. Because I've been told it will help. 

This week, a young woman in my city died from childbirth. I can't wrap my head around it, despite knowing the facts - childbirth is still dangerous, even in our first-world country; women of color disproportionally die from childbirth birth because they don't get the care they need; ageism is a thing - against the young and the old. 

And it just feels like another injustice in this world that will never be undone.