Think Fog and Coffee Clarity

I made a cup of coffee today and it was the hardest thing ever. 

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I love coffee. It starts my day. This should not have been so difficult. And yet, for days now, maybe even more than a week, I haven't been able to touch a cup of coffee. 

Have barely brought myself to do basic housework. And office work. 

I know a term for what I'm experiencing - executive dysfunction - but it doesn't feel real. Nothing feels real. It's as if everything material floats just out of reach, like there's a vacuum separating my skin from reality. 

I float through the days in a fog, and the only visible progress I'm making is on the little game in my phone - which I play religiously. Other kinds of progress are being made, no doubt - emails being sent, for example, or pages of a textbook read, or an evening out for coffee with a friend. 

But it's as if those things are happening to someone else entirely. Like I'm barely aware of my body doing things - and more importantly, not doing things - but I've forgotten what that has to do with me. 

Even shifting from my little mobile game to playing Among Us is too much effort - and I've just ignored peoples' messages for days now. 

After hearing nothing from me for a whole day, one friend figured it out. 

Are you okay?

No. Haha. I'm not. 

He's sent many sweet messages since then, which I guess are what gave me the strength to get up and brush my teeth. Wash my face with the facewash I so lovingly bought. And make a cup of coffee. 

What can I do?

Well, nothing. Nothing, really. Except say sweet things like "you're doing so much work and I love you", which he's already doing. And that was enough for a cup of coffee. 

And maybe, just maybe, that cup of coffee will be enough for a quick sweep of the house. Or good for 30 emails. Or 1667 words.