I wrote a lengthy draft of a blog post and have chosen not to publish it. Everything in my life feels both recklessly impulsive and agonizingly drawn-out at the moment, but the fact of the matter is I have some decisions to make in the days to come.
My mother is in a facility where I can’t see her. Her recovery is uncertain. My father is not equipped to handle this situation alone, but I can’t work out how to be living both here in Denver as well as back home in Polson, much less how to move forward with my goals of living and working in Canada. The pandemic isolation was hard to begin with, but it was easier to handle while I had a garden and friends to sit in the sunlight with. Now it is cold and I am far from home, both my present home in Montana and my dreamed-of home in Canada. But who am I if I don’t stick around now? Can I live with myself if I put my dreams on hold to stay here with a father who thinks I’m destined for a pit of fire because I’m nonbinary––or can I live with myself if I leave for Canada to be near my mother’s family when my mother herself remains behind in a coma? Impossible. Impossible. But I’ve got to make it work.
I could torture myself all night with these questions. I choose a shower and bed, and to work on the big questions again tomorrow.