I feel emotionally raw. Everything from anger to exhaustion to resignation sits heavier on me now than it did at that Thanksgiving dinner a few weeks ago.
I'm exhausted from the constant not knowing. Each new day feels like it brings a darkening prediction of what the future holds, and I'm tired. I am a creature of habit. I love knowing what the next day will bring. With the pandemic, it feels like the situation is changing by the hour.
And I'm resigned to the fact that none of this is going away anytime soon. The idea that Covid will be in the rear-view mirror by March feels, at this point, quaint. I have watched the goalposts for the end of the pandemic moved so many times that I can't even remember where they were a month ago.