Hibernation

I’ve been hibernating.

Like the bear who wakes in March to find the forest still icy and unforgiving, I will return to my cave after testing the air.

Meanwhile:

Single parenting teenagers and young adults.

Trying to find a job that doesn’t leave me scrambling for spare change at the end of the pay period.

Juggling bills and debts and creditors and overdue notices.

Shoveling mountains upon mountains of snow.

The lumps, bumps, aches, and indignities of getting older.

A car that may or may not start in the morning.

Bone-deep exhaustion.

Attempting to accept responsibility for my struggles without drowning in shame.

And:

Occupation of American cities.

State-sanctioned murder.

Citizens kidnapped from our neighborhoods.

The twisting and manipulation of my faith to justify hate.

The protection of rapists and pedophiles.

Overt racism and homophobia.

Robber barons.

War.

Broken democracy.

Wanting to be a voice in the storm of these turbulent times, but barely finding enough air to breathe, let alone speak.

Missing my family and friends, but lacking the strength to talk to anyone about anything.

I feel like I spent last year sprinting and trying and fighting and maintaining hope. Now, much like my broken-down car, I’m running low on gas.

Have you seen the jump in gas prices? Reality got me tired. And tired of being tired.

With that said: I have my life. I have my kids. I have family who love me. I have my dog.

He’s actually a terrible dog. He steals food and has accidents. But he’s my dog, and I love him.

And I have tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will spend in quiet.

Not giving up. Not avoiding you.

Just hibernating to reserve energy for the spring I hope will come.

Maybe you are, too.