Life currently: my emotions are swinging unpredictably like a broken pendulum. One moment I am content, the next I’m binge drinking tea in the hopes it’ll soothe me (the world might be ending, but we’ll always have tea time…) One day I am doing all the right things–baking and journaling and reading and talking to friends and spending quality time with loved ones; the very next day I am snappish, irritable, a mean word away from bursting into tears.

Right now the pendulum swings toward the latter: I’m angry. At myself and at those I live with and those who don’t live with me and the cute guy on Tinder who ghosted me (shocking) and the government and celebrities… Basically anything with a pulse. What’s more upsetting: I’m angry for no reason whatsoever; I know my anger serves no purpose and yet I’m helpless.

So many people are using this time to create something meaningful, something that will leave a mark: Aggie has brought all sorts of wonderful thought leaders to her platform to provide hope. Erin has created dreamy landscapes out of pancakes and broccoli stalks and tissue paper. Patrick has taken over TikTok like a fabulous, hilarious tornado.

Me? I’ve got thousands of no-yeast bread recipes (still out of yeast), books I’ve started but haven’t gotten past page 15, no snacks in my pantry (already gone) and liters of ink spilled on journals, trying to make sense of my jumbled thoughts.

Surviving is just enough, I tell myself (it’s what I’d tell my dearest friend)

Breathing is enough. Existing right now is an act of courage. Anything else–the self-help books and workout routines and the macrame hobby I said I didn’t have time for and the dreams I’ve put in the backburner for too long–all that can wait.

But time gets away from me, and I panic. And I am angry at myself for panicking. A vicious cycle. The broken pendulum, swinging again.

So here is me, welcoming these negative feelings: I welcome you, fear. I make space for you, and I acknowledge you. Now please, move along.

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