Bifurcated.

My system is bifurcated. When there’s a milestone moment, a realization, or a meaningful reflection, I know how to write. But when there are weekly events that could be yearly hallmarks - what is there to say? The initial panic gives way to ticker-tape worry. Ongoing. Relentless.
I’m exhilarated by the high-speed chase of to-do lists, tasks, and chores. I grease the wheels with a spontaneous reorganization of our play space. Highway to fleeting satisfaction! But there, in the background, a monotonous hum of dread and worry. Predictable and unyielding. I’m trying to tune it up and lurch it forward, but I can’t keep up. A new calamity adds fuel, and the ticker-tape scrolls on.

Every few days I look up from the steering wheel and notice my exquisite children and patient husband. I talk to my parents as individuals instead of babysitters. I visit with a friend and feel refreshed by the visibility. I might even have a meta-moment of realizing that “every few days” was once “every couple weeks”. Thank goodness for anxiety meds.

But if anxiety feels like disproportional worry, then this can’t be that. If depression is undue grief, it’s not that either. I think this is just middle age. The realization that my parents aren’t getting healthier. The number of people who depend on me isn’t getting smaller. How do you accept crisis as the rule and not the exception? How do you accept loss that is perpetual, not sudden?
I know how to react in sudden chaos. I show up. I over function. I hold my breath until the storm passes. But the climate is changing and this storm isn’t dissipating. So the ticker-tape scrolls on.