I’ve been struggling a little bit lately. Where I live, we’re very slowly coming out of the pandemic. Masks are required indoors, and most people still wear them outside too. We’re gathering only when we know we’re all vaccinated, but socializing feels new and awkward and utterly exhausting.
I finally came up with a word for what I’m feeling yesterday: fragile. I feel like the slightest gust of wind could knock me over, or one wrong word will leave me near tears. But I have decided (with the help of a trusted friend) that I’m just going to let myself be fragile right now. After all, I did just live through a global pandemic. You did too. I’ve talked to so many people who feel this way: I should feel happy and fine! We’re getting back to normal! But they feel anything but happy or fine.
I think of deer, after they’ve been shocked or scared and they begin shaking to rid their bodies of the trauma. This fragile period feels a little like that. We’re walking on wobbly legs, in need of a rest and some quiet kindness. When you really think about it, especially after these last many months, life truly is all so fragile, isn’t it?
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