I Am Not Okay, Ok?

Tragedy surrounds me, suffocating me from the outside in. Anxiety gnaws at me, destroying me from the inside out. I don’t want to live but I don’t want to die. I guess I just don’t want to live like this. This is a far too familiar feeling. 

The year and a half since our book, Broken Nek, came out has been liberating, vindicating, sobering, and healing. I started to experience confidence and lightness that I never knew was possible. I had a mission, a voice, and my days were filled with laughter, hope, and creativity. I felt more acceptance and support than I ever had growing up. I even began to value myself. 

It all came to a screeching halt when the Pandemic hit. It did for the world, I understand, but that doesn’t make it better for me. Because I am not okay, ok? I tell this to those close to me and mostly receive messages about how I barely have it bad compared to so many others. Then I feel guilty and petty on top of the sadness. Which makes me more-not-okay, ok?  

The virus is my brother, Ken. Ken is the virus. Everything about it reminds me of him. The topic consumes our every minute and even when it isn’t being talked about it hangs in the air like thick pollution. I’m being told what to do and what not to do. When I express my opinion I often get attacked by those who don’t agree. Every day is another unexpected event, tension is everywhere, and I walk on eggshells trying to keep the peace. I’m expected to be the cheerful one, the together one, the one that never needs a thing from anyone. I am surrounded by people on a surface level, but in reality, I’m separated and alone. And then there are the masks. I’ve tried wearing them and I panic. Ken was the worst kind of mask for me. 

I could write about COVID or Ken, omit the names and not know which one I’m talking about. I want to run away, as I did when I was 22 years old. But now there is nowhere to run that doesn’t have the virus. Maybe that’s a lesson to be learned since the only thing that really allowed me to face the memories of Ken’s torture was to change my thought process, speak up, and surround myself with people who understand. I have had a sad realization that the scars from the abuse never completely go away. Ken died over four years ago yet his effect remains a part of me, morphed into my psyche like a hidden monster that pops out of the bushes when least expected. The only way to have a good enough life is to learn how to coexist with the reality of the virus named Ken. 

For me, with COVID, it’s the same.  

I refuse to live in fear ever again. I will not accept that I do not have a legitimate voice on this or any topic. I’m not being careless or foolish about the severity of the Pandemic but I simply am not afraid. I have studied and listened and pondered and soul-searched and there is not one drop of fear about the present or future of our world when it comes to COVID. I believe we will learn to coexist. 

I choose hope. I have faith in the energy of the human spirit and the resilience of the human body. I am confident that life will continue to evolve, other topics will begin to fill the conversation, the world will become more balanced, and coexistence with COVID will become manageable. My wish is for the same strength, optimism, and peace to reside in all of you. 

Sharing this makes me less-not-okay. 

Ok?

Have a story of a traumatizing time or mental illness that you would like to share on our podcast? Feel free to reach out to either Mary or me about it. You can find out more information/fill out the form here. We’d love to connect with you! 

This article was written by Mary Albrecht, Co-Founder of The Albrecht Authors, Co-Author of Broken Nek, and Founder of Fitness Loft, Libertyville.