I’m not fine.

Since March, I have been quarantined with my two sons, ages seven and four. During this time, I was diagnosed with ADHD and lost the description of bipolar. Adderall has helped me in ways I only dreamed bipolar medications would. My seven year old and I survived two and a half months of homeschooling. My autistic four year had his therapy abruptly halted. About a month ago, twelve hours of in-home therapy resumed. Most of the time I’m on the edge of tears. I don’t want to talk about how I’m about to shut down but it would be nice if people didn’t believe me when I say “I’m fine.”

I’m not fine. Not by a long shot. My boys are noisy. Both when they are playing happily and when they are fighting. Both of which happen multiple times in the course of a day. The beauty of school is I get a noise-free house for a few hours a day. I like silence, I’m good at it. There is no longer any moments for me to catch a thought. I’m in constant demand. Even when the boys are silently watching TV and I sneak to my bedroom, the peace and quiet can be ripped from me any moment. TV isn’t a guarantee if absolute silence. Neither is video games.

I hesitated in writing this. I hesitate to come across as whining. I have only written one blog post in the past six months. My creativity has been placed on hold because of my current situation. In fact, this post has taken me days to write and so far I’m only on the third paragraph.

What is there to be done? I don’t know. Everyone right now is going through a hard time. We all are having a bad time. In this, I know I’m not alone. I’m trying to find some message of hope or at least a point to this blog post but I’m struggling. I just want to cry. I’m not fine.