I had really been looking forward to the last two weeks of 2020.
I was off work on Thursday and Friday of both weeks. I had a plethora of projects I was excited to work on first thing in the early mornings. I had a stack of books to get lost in. And even I was tricked into the ‘2020 is almost over!’ mentality, as if it meant anything.
Those last two weeks of the year were the absolute worst weeks of 2020 for me, maybe the worst weeks I’ve had in a few years.
I feel like I’m sensationalizing a bit with the last sentence; the most important thing is that everyone I love is healthy and safe. That I am grateful for, especially seeing how the surge has been affecting the hospitals all over the country.
But I didn’t expect multiple areas of my life to fall apart as it did. I guess we never do. Of course, this wasn’t exclusive to 2020. 2020 was only when it happened, but 2021 will be the year I learn to live with it and heal.
I’ll try to push forward and bring some semblance of routine and normalcy into my life with blogging, but quite honestly, the last thing I want to do is take photos or sit down and draw.
I wish this wasn’t the start of this year, but here we are.