In the first week, I felt relaxed, a tad anxious But I knew it was all going to be ok, so I kept my faith and my spirits up, up, up.
In the second week, my head felt heavy, buzzing with thoughts and information from every corner of the world. There was a sense of doom, looming over us all. Was it going to ever be ok?
In the third week, I made myself useful, set myself tasks, helped people who didn't have what I did, focused on creativity, my work, my teaching. We have to make the best of the situation, said the inside of my head.
In the fourth week, I ebbed and flowed.
There were good days and bad.
Some days were spent, working hard, helping as much as possible. While others I spent, forcing my brain into mindless oblivion by focusing on ficitious characters' lives. It was an existential question- Do we keep the faith and stay positive or face the possible darkness of nothingness to come??
In the fifth week anxiety hit, and hit hard.
Jaws were clenched and ground, sleep cycles took a beating, the stomach churned acid, The head was ready to explode.
Is it all even worth it? There are so many people struggling, and not just from illness. Through it all, one thing remained constant.
The muscles in my body moving, dancing to tunes both internal and external. Shapes and spirals, circles and squares.
A million ways to move, my brain said.
Bones and sinews, nerves and blood.
Shimmying and shaking and pirouetting and prancing.
The sixth week began today, I woke up, cautiously hopeful.
There was something about the sound of the birds that told me, maybe just maybe it would be alright.
My head still doesn't know, but my heart hopes.