Day 19 of maybe covid: If I think about it, I will notice that my breathing isn’t quite there on long inhales, and I’m probably still a little more fatigued than normal, but I actually have to *think* to notice I’m not at normal.

My fingers are crossed that maybe I can get more than an hour or so of work done today.

This is probably the best day I’ve had since it started.

It goes up. And down. And up. And down. Repeat. And again.

The hardest part of the up-and-down for me was the emotional component: the part where I let myself feel relief on a good day thinking, “oh, thank god, it’s not getting worse” with all the worries that entails.

Then it would get worse the next day, and my anxiety would go through the roof.

After about 2 of these cycles, I made myself read a *lot* of separate covid journals. I *convinced* myself that up and down *was* the journey.

While it didn’t make my anxiety go away, it did help me to frame my “up” days not as “okay whew you’re getting better it’s all uphill from me,” but as “today I have a reprieve, so I’m going to make a giant pot of soup with my extra energy.”

All of this is to say that I have had enough “up” days recently that I already have soup, I already have bread, I don’t need to do laundry, and I’ve handled a lot of the on-fire business concerns, and I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to clear my mind and *write.*

I have seen so many people who have presumptive-probably-covid who told me around Day 7, “mine doesn’t seem as bad as yours was, I’m getting better,” and then told me around Day 10, “ugh.”

I am really, incredibly, truly grateful to be here, and want the same for all of you.