Once in my past I would have thought that if I’d been confined to my house, for whatever reason, that I would easily write that great novel that is inside of me. Alas, that is not true. I am flummoxed and astonished at the difficulty I am having in composing one sentence, let alone enough for a novel.
The circumstances of this confinement are not good.
Finally, I heard or read, that I am suffering from grief. And from expectations that far outweigh my strength right now. Because I am sad, not sleeping well, like many people in this world, I feel worn out.
The help is to be kinder to myself. That may not cure everything but it will help.
Quit demanding too much of your self. Understand that you are grieving. Rest, watch a sunset, read a book, walk the dog (Maxx would agree to that), but take care of yourself.
We will get through this. It will not be quick and painless, but we will survive and laugh and love again.