It was about to be a lovely fall day of apple picking, all sorts of picking -pumkins and peppers and eggplants and everything in season and corn maze and hay ride and farm activity with my friends — and it was an otherwise lovely day.
Except for the sudden return of the plague. After 7 years, it just decided to arrive. I hadn't started any sort of regiment or hormones. Nothing, nothing had changed in my life. It just appeared. Thank G-d for girlfriends who carry tampons around. I don't even have supplies in my house. I was told I was done, and after two years, you don't feel the need to have those supplies around. It was shocking to process. It was painful. I was more or less in a porta potty type situation, and the farm didn't feel very covid-safe in this general area. I was feeling sick all around. I just couldn't wrap my head around it. I couldn't remember what this was like. I don't miss it. I didn't miss it at all. And I had to be on and smile all day rather than lie on my couch and slep and cry and call epeople to bitch and cry and google stuff.
I was living my best non-hormonal life and all of the sudden felt like I was 14 again in all of the worst ways. But maybe the farm was a good distraction because I had to focus on climbing and gathering and everythi8ng outside of myself. Sitting at home may have been worse for me.
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