Six Months Down. Six to Go.

Holy cow. June is almost done. Meaning half the year is gone. And what do we have to show for it?

Where is this year going?

Australia burned. Kobe and his daughter died. Global pandemic. Murder hornets. Dust storm. Asteroid. Race riots.

Don’t even at me on this. Black lives matter. It’s time to end systemic racism.

Am I missing anything?!

And we still have six months left.

WTAF?! 2020 was supposed to be THE year. The year of clear vision. The year of possibility and positivity. And instead we’re sitting here with the actual knowledge that our government acknowledged the existence of UFOs and we’re just so numb.

We are all so numb we can’t even react anymore. I’m pretty sure zombies are next and we’ll just sit back on our porches, picking them off one by one. Like the old Duck Hunt game. Except don’t shoot the dog.

Would anyone be surprised?

We retreated from our grim reality by learning new skills such as sourdough baking and gardening. We have meetings by Zoom and classes by YouTube.

So, now what?

I don’t know. And I’d be lying if I said I know it will be ok. Because I can’t make that promise. I can’t guarantee that. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.

Anxiety life, am I right?

In the end, I think we’ll adapt. We’ll change. We’ll do the best that we can. Some will succeed and others, well, won’t.

I’d like to think the next six months will be better. But this is an election year so we know at least November will be a train wreck.

I mean, really, are these two the best we can pick from to lead the country? What if we right someone in? Can we overthrow an election?

Me personally, I’m going to do the best I can to have some sense of normalcy. I’ll participate in Camp Nanowrimo. I’ll get my kids ready to go back to school. And I’ll plan a trip to Disney for next December.

In between all that us a whole lot of uncertainty. And as much as I’d like to say I’m not worried, my anxiety reminds me that I worry about the one time I said that one thing to that one person and it upset them.

I guess the best I can do or say is try not to live in that place. Take time to go outside and breathe. Hug your kids. Tell your parents you love them. Make the damn sourdough. Finish your book. Because being present might just be the best way to cope.

If anything, I’ve learned that life is too short.

So, for the next six months I will try my best to live in the moment and not focus on the past or the future. I mean I’ll schedule my bills and meal plan. You can have my planner when you pry it from my cold, dead hand.

May your next six months bring you peace and tranquility and normality and lots of sourdough.


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