I don't want to talk about it.
I just want you to think that I am fine.
Like, surviving. Like eating meals and bathing myself.
Maybe I want you to think that I am more than fine.
That I am finding great pleasure in cobbling together meals from what's on-hand (we're not starving; there's just little variety and not much fresh produce when you only go to the store every 12 days and your fridge is not full size.)
That I am exercising happily every morning and smiling into "zoom" happy hours every night.
That my daughter and I sit side-by-side as we cheerfully work through her remote learning assignments and make fun crafts that I have found on Pinterest.
That I am reading more and writing more without the distractions of, you know, a job.... or that imposing .5 mile I had to walk taking my girl to and from school every day.
But I hate to misrepresent.
Especially now.
Especially when it's so easy to misrepresent.
My Facebook posts are a blend of smiling fitness videos and cute art projects, and I feel compelled to set the record straight:
