Days of struggle, days of mourning
“They can take everything I have, but they can’t take the good things I’ve already done for those I love”
I feel poisoned these days. Little by little, I alternate between my inner self that wants to isolate, put on a silly animation to watch, just sleep and cry, and the self that wants to (re)act, wants to fight, wants to stop complaining about an unjust society without working to make it better.
The problem is that this self that fights and reacts is getting further away every day. It comes to me, sees how chaotic it is, how each news story overtakes the previous one and takes up space in my mind, and simply leaves, because there is no food, no energy, for me to keep it with me.
I know we need detox moments, moments where you silence all social media, go play with your pet, make a nice dish in the kitchen, laugh (even remotely) with those you love. But then I start to think: what about those who don’t have a kitchen, or don’t have food? What about those who don’t have a home? What about those who are alone, with no one to talk to? How are these people doing? How can the world be so wrong to the point that these things and all other monstrosities exist and are considered normal?
The normal is what scares me the most. Inequalities are normalized, a eugenicist plan is normalized. And as much as people say otherwise, no, most people don’t think this is okay — but they have been forced into this type of normality (I hope).
Some individuals, clinging to some faith, belief, or dogma (in this need to belong to a group as well), embrace the most incorrect and immoral ideas (thinking of Christian morality, so often babbled about out there), bringing them into the heart of the herd they belong to. Other individuals are simply numb, tired of being outraged; they just want their bills paid at the end of the month, to get that surgery scheduled at the public health system months ago, to manage to put food on the table, not to die from COVID-19.
This is the perfect soil. Perfect for incoherent and incorrect ideas to be disseminated, recorded, legislated, approved, and implemented. Institutions have been fragmented; things are not working correctly. And all this chaos is approved by that faithful base (approximately 30% of the people in this country, right?), ignored by those who want to maintain good mental health, and lived by all of us.
I don’t think this is normal. But I admit there are days when I simply forget reality, I feel bad, especially when imagining they can take the good things I’ve done for those I love, they can take the people I love. Who isn’t afraid of losing grandparents, parents, in these dark times, in this war? These are days of mourning. Where we don’t know when glory will come.
We only know that it will arrive. That one day, we will see again a world full of love, of joy. Hope is stronger than the nostalgia for days of glory. Despite insisting on keeping these positive feelings in me, I don’t believe everything is lost, that these terrible times are eternal. All things are cyclical, and something good will emerge after this darkness.
We continue a bit crippled, a bit wounded, but still walking. Today I only managed to write this text and cry. Tomorrow I will be able to have a meeting, draw a little, hug someone I love. One day at a time.
“Today I am happy, I woke up on the right foot, and I will do it again, I will do it very well”
I would like to give a special thanks to Teo e o Minimundo, who inspired me with this comic strip I placed throughout the text, and who touched me with their sensitivity and delicacy in dealing with such a difficult moment.
And I wanted to thank you. Thank you for reading this text. Stay well ♥️
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- By Mai R. on May 24, 2020.
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