Tired

 I cried today. 

I haven't cried too much during the last year. Lost my temper, yes. Ate my feeling, yes. Put way too much pressure on my daily walk to be my only coping mechanism, absolutely. 

But I haven't really cried. 

We haven't suffered too much. Matt still has his job. We are healthy. We haven't lost anyone. We're back at Mass. It's okay. 

But today I cried. We withdrew our son from one of his activities at least until he can go back to in person, and we have no idea when that will be. The school did everything they could, the teacher was great, but an anxious kid who can't read the computer screen can only handle so many months of virtual lessons in his living room. It was just too much. 

And that really, really got to me. Not only was he losing the thing that he loved, the thing that defined him and our family, but it. was. my. last. straw. 

I made it until I got him to bed. And then I freaking lost it. I just sobbed and sobbed over the loss of this kid's dance class and what it meant for him and our family and everything. 

I know, of course, that I wasn't just upset about Joey. It was just the thing that finally broke me. Because even though we haven't lost anyone, it hasn't been perfect.

I sobbed into my wine because it's been a year. Because I had to leave my dad at the hospital for surgery and just wait for a call to make sure he made it through. Because we didn't go to Mass on Easter. Because I missed my brother's wedding reception and couldn't touch him at his Mass. Because I didn't receive communion for 28 of the last 52 weeks. Because I spend most of my days having fake fights in my head with my husband because we have different opinions on the virus. Because I have to watch my mom's heart break because she can't be with all of her kids. Because I know people who aren't going to survive this period. Because I didn't get to hold my nephew until he was two months old. Because I don't even know when I'll get to hold my niece. Because every one of my insides has been twisted up in fear for the last year. 

Because there was a last time I watched him dance and I didn't know it. 

Because this time it was my kid who got hurt. 

This is all my choice. I have chosen to do everything I have done because I firmly believe it's in my best interest, as well as that of my family and the general public. I am not complaining. I am not suggesting that the mental health toll is in any way comparable to the physical one. Tomorrow I will get back up and put a mask on and not go to stores unless I have to and try to braid my hair so the three people that might glimpse me think I'm charmingly eccentric instead of a cult member and realize that my kid's mental health is worth more than clinging to an activity that isn't bringing him any joy right now.

But today I'm tired and I'm just crying.