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A year with long COVID.
Long COVID has flipped my world upside down — for a year.
Just writing that sentence swirls up so many emotions. When I can set down the anger and frustration of getting long COVID in the first place what I’m left with more than anything else is grief.
It’s been a long, hard year.
I’ve tried writing about this experience many, many times over the past year. In fact, here’s what I wrote almost exactly a year ago:
But the truth is, writing has been difficult for me in a way it never has before. One of the reasons I’ve always loved writing so much is because it (normally) feels as natural to me as breathing air. I’m not suggesting that anything I write flows out of me in any kind of entertaining, meaningful, or perfect form. What I am suggesting is that I generally don’t have to think about it. I sit, words flow. Writing is how I’ve always made sense of my world — or at least, attempted to.
* * *
My world hasn’t made much sense for the last year. My brain hasn’t been cooperating. Most days, I haven’t felt compelled in the least to write, mostly because it’s felt difficult, and that’s devastating to me in ways I can’t describe.
“Will it come back?” I’ve asked many doctors at this point.
