Talk? No?

The last few months of Covid-19 madness has had a huge impact on my already precarious mental health; but I think the worst thing is how I’ve had to stop talking about things. Well, technically I can, I mean I haven’t been physically muted, but because of everything going on and pretty much everyone feeling the strain in some way or other, for their own reasons, I have felt like it would be inappropriate to add to the loads of people already under the kosh so to speak.

Now, 3 months on and here in the UK we are starting to get back into some new sort of normal, while trying to maintain vigilant and as careful as possible. We are able to see people we love again as long as we are careful and follow current instructions, we are able to return to the pubs, which is usually where I find myself talking about things that are bothering me the most. Except, spoiler, I’m not talking. I’m covering it. I’m being (hopefully) a ray of sunshine when I’m in the company I usually vent to.

The question is, is this the wrong thing to do? Should I now be back to being able to talk about things that are bothering me? Or is it better to sweep it under the table while I’m dancing on it?

Who knows? I feel, full, if that makes sense? Full of stuff that I don’t talk about. The other question is whether this silence will come back to haunt me when it all comes out, projectile vomited for the world to see?

No idea.


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