I am not OK.

I’m not sure I even remember what OK felt like, it’s been so long.

Intellectually, I know the things I need to be doing.

Intellectually, I know grief is a process and it takes time and there is no wrong way to grieve.

Intellectually, I know I have difficulty dealing with grief.

But in reality? My brain still believes that I should be better by now. That I don’t have a right to feel this way because so many other people have it so much worse. That it’s wrong for me to still be grieving because I don’t deserve to. That other’s feelings and losses are more important than mine. That I’m weak for not being able to just get over this.

I hate this.

And I’m so tired.

I’ve tried to incorporate things that I know help me back into my life: we try to go hiking at least once a week—out in the wilderness where there are no other people. I try to get some exercise, even if it’s only walking on the treadmill while I’m on the computer. I try to remember to eat. I try to remember to drink enough water (or at least tea). And I read.

That helps to get me out of my head, to feel other things.

But it’s so hard to do just that bare minimum, everything else is too much. And it shouldn’t be. I mean, how hard is it to put away the groceries? How hard is it to put things away? Yet I don’t—I can’t—and then I feel guilty for that too,

I’m not cooking.

I’m not cleaning the house.

I haven’t baked since April.

I was already struggling with a lot of things before my dad died—the pandemic and politics obviously, but I’d also been trying to come to terms with things I’ve been ignoring for decades: who I am; how can I accept the parts of me that don’t fit. How can I be me, and not just the expectations of others?

I already didn’t much enjoy being me, living in this body.

I just want things to be better.

I want to listen to the news and not hear horror and misery. I want terrible things to stop happening to my friends. I want the world to be loving and accepting.

I don’t actually have a coda for this. I just needed to get it out. And to make some small attempt at letting people know: I’m not ok.