In our bubbles

In our bubbles

I live in Halifax, Nova Scotia. We had been fortunate enough to have a low number of COVID infections, especially in comparison to the rest of North America, and life had gotten back to a semblance of normalcy in the summer. Unfortunately, cases are back on the rise; it’s still not as bad as it is in the States or even other places in Canada, but we’re back to smaller gathering limits and increased restrictions on businesses.

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How am I? Who am I?

How am I? Who am I?

I didn’t sleep well on Sunday night. It’s easy for me to sleep the weekend away, but as soon as I have to prepare my body to go to bed and wake up at specific times of the day, my mind starts filling with fragments of songs, random questions that don’t need answering, and hypothetical conversations I could possibly have. When my brain starts making this much noise, I always have trouble ignoring it.

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Real talk

Real talk

My brain’s been feeling off again this week. I’m not sure if the trigger is external or internal, but some familiar feelings started to creep back in last night: one minute I’m eating stew I made in the slow cooker, the next I feel emotional heaviness I haven’t felt in a long time.

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