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I’m about thissssssss close to completely falling apart. And amazingly enough, it has nothing to do with COVID. I actually find that COVID has a lot of benefits as far as I’m concerned.

1. No one tries to hug me. Normally, when someone goes in for a hug, I stiffen into a large chunk of wood. Like if a tree didn’t know what to do with its hands. That’s me.
2. Fewer people at the grocery store. I hate standing in lines. Loathe it. I feel exposed and helpless in lines — where are we really going? What’s at the end? Are we all jumping off a cliff one by one? Yes, I know this is a Kroger, but you can’t be too careful.
3. No one thinks it’s weird when I back away from them. I did this before the pandemic, and I will do it long after the pandemic is over. It’s like I’m a magnet, and everyone else in the universe has opposite polarity. (This is science. Look it up.)

Back in the good old days, people had “nervous breakdowns” which were cured by “rest” in something called a “sanitarium” (which is like a terrarium for people).

I always envisioned this as someplace where women (usually women have nervous breakdowns, and God knows we deserve them) lounge around in chiffon robes and fuzzy mules, drinking martinis. Less The Snake Pit and more the Canyon Ranch.

If I’m going to fall apart, I want to do it glamorously. I want to come back from my little “vacation” coked to the gills on Haldol, chainsmoking Virginia Slims.

Unfortunately, it’s more likely that I’m going to shave my head like Britney Spears. This is an urge I feel whenever I’m at my most stressed out. This is the universally recognized SOS — if you won’t believe my words, maybe you’ll believe the pile of hair I’m carrying around in a plastic shopping bag.

Maybe now you’ll realize that I’m overworked. Maybe now you’ll realize that I can only handle so much without help. Maybe now you’ll let me eat my lunch in peace.

Because after he ate out, maskless, at a restaurant (don’t even get me started on that), my boss interrupted me no less than four times today while I tried to wolf down a bowl of cold baked beans at my desk.

I never sleep. I haven’t slept more than a few hours at a time in probably 10 years. Everything hurts. I don’t see how cognitive behavioral therapy is going to help that. Quaaludes, on the other hand, are how everyone functioned in the ’70s.

My kingdom for a Quaalude.

I fully believe that a lot of what we call “mental illness” is the result of just being tired. Tired of having too much asked of us. Tired of being bombarded with stimuli 24/7 that we don’t feel capable of ignoring. Tired of being asked to care about everything, all the time. Tired of being made to feel like a horrible person if we don’t.

I should go to bed. But first I’m going to stress eat 15 Oreos and hide the scissors.