Even a die-hard optimist like me gets discouraged and worn down at times — I can only imagine how hard the last 20 or so months has been on those who started it with a less than sunny outlook.
The pandemic has been tough. Dead people. Divisions. Broken relationships. Broken hearts. Shattered lives. Shattered dreams.
It is like Covid peeled something important away and left us exposed and raw, and then forced us to see who and what people really are — including ourselves. I think that has been one of the hardest parts for me — the loss of my illusions.
But the loss of what we thought was real is just one of a cascade of sorrows that has rained down on every one of us for months and months and months. I suspect I am not alone in saying to the Universe: “UNCLE!!! I said UNCLE!!! Please stop.”
So many of us have been operating on Last Straw mode for more weeks and months than we care to remember — and the pile of broken last straws just gets higher.
I say this because it is true and because I want others to know — as I know — that it is normal for all of this to be hard.
One of my many last straws was when Claire’s meniscus was torn — a complication in about 4% of TPLOs (the surgery she had — twice — last Spring). This meant yet another surgery for Claire. Will she ever have a normal coat again?!
It occurred to me yesterday that likely Claire will be cold outside — that is not something I typically worry about with Berners. I added frostbite to my list of things to fret over.
Next post: What to do about Last Straw Life.