Or is it?
Everything feels like it’s on slo-mo. I sit in a dim apartment day after day, providing care, working some, on the phone giving encouragement and support. I have no idea where the three weeks have gone since my grandma fell, but they’re gone, and I’m still here, and I’m starting to forget I used to do other things.
That giving free-flow? It seems to be working. Not every moment, but mostly. The laptop needing to be replaced? Not a big deal, just an inconvenience. Needing a new phone? Another inconvenience that will wait until I can get to it. Long, sleepless nights and up at 3 and again at 6 to provide care? We’ll both just settle in the living room and sleep in before I make French toast. Because I can and because it’s nice. Phone blowing up? It’ll wait. I need another hour of disturbed sleep.