Chaos

I'm not a go with the flow type of person. I mean, I'm the worst at time. I'm late everywhere and I start to sweat and shake when people ask me what time I'm going to be somewhere. I don't look at the clock unless I'm at work. I seriously don't give a shit about time: and yes, it's a serious problem. I've tried to work on it. Not really. Kind of. Depends on the week. 

All I do now is look at time. What time should I start leaving my parents' house to get home so I can binge watch a new documentary. What time should I leave to go help my parents out at the restaurant. Should I even go? What time should I go to bed? I hate it. I hate being inside for 8 hours while counting down the hours until I'm finished with work. I feel punished, but I don't feel comfortable stating I feel like I'm being punished because there's something worse going on. I'm not a relax-at-home type of person. You know when I relax? When I go to bed at night. When I get home from the gym, which is after an 8-hour work day, which is after a night of not enough sleep. That's just how I live. I follow a routine during the week and I like it that way. 

A few years ago, I began going to the gym 5 days a week. I never stopped in the three years I've started making that a part of my life. And no--it's not because I want to lose weight or I want to be in shape or feel strong; it's these things in combination with having one hour to myself where I don't feel like I have to fulfill a goddamn obligation to be part of society. That's my hobby. Writing is my hobby, reading is my hobby, but those haven't been taken away from me. I've taken walks and run in the beautiful metro parks, but a lot of my livelihood and a lot of my mental health is nurtured by an atmosphere of sweaty individuals. I miss that. My whole body misses that. 

But I digress-- I don't want to complain. It's wrong of me. And yet here I am, complaining. I've struggled to confront this conflict because I typically confront my issues by...yes..you've guessed it...going to the gym. I'm a drug dealer when I sweat on the elliptical with my music. I'm an Instragam influencer when I lift weights. If only for an hour a day, and that's all I want: to be anything I want for just one hour a day. But I don't want to complain. Bigger things are going on. There's a reason behind the madness. There's a reason filled with masks and gloves and hand sanitizer. 

I'm in awe of health care professionals, home-schooling parents, anti-vaxxers who keep their dumbass opinions during a pandemic, people who switch their gloves often and the woman who runs past me in the grocery store because I'm violating the 6-feet implementation to get a box of fucking Cheerios. I'm in awe of all of you. It's like you've done this before and you're all so good at it. I'm not. I'm just not. 

It's fight or flight. And I feel like I'm doing both for the first time in my life at the very same time. I fight, usually. But I'm fleeing. I'm hiding and I'm being dishonest about how annoying I find that, and how annoyed I am that I'm selfish enough to call it annoying. I'm annoyed I can't visit my family in Italy. I'm grieving for all the absent funerals occurring in the country I was born in. I'm uncomfortable with how hungry I am and how much food simultaneously has begun to annoy me. I'm not surprised by MLM psychos taking advantage of us all during this unknown time. But mostly--I'm just feeling chaotic that I have no uniform thoughts about it all. Like I said, I like a routine. And like I said, I don't do time. I'm usually pessimistic. So I've forced myself to become optimistic. This'll all end soon. Don't fuckin ask me when.