I got my flu/Covid booster shots a couple of days ago, which was an experience I couldn’t help comparing to earlier in the pandemic when I was gripped in a moral quandary over whether or not it was okay for me to get the vaccine because I was offered early access through my hospice work, and then when I finally decided that yes I could help BE the SOLUTION, I waited in line for hours on end and then WEPT WITH GRATITUDE FOR HUMAN ACHIEVEMENT when I got the first shot.

Fast forward to getting my second booster from the world’s weariest and over-it Walgreen’s pharmacy tech and feeling grumpy about having to do so. I probably shouldn’t admit this but I almost didn’t even go to the appointment, even after waiting weeks for an open time. I’ve been slogging through an extended period of Nah for a while now, which is less depressing than Everything Is Awful Why Bother, and not nearly as rage-inducing as Burn It All Down and Salt the Fucking Earth, but … you know. Nah. It’s got all the anhedonia of Meh, but with a no in it. It’s not great.

Nah had me feeling like not only did I not particularly want to get in the car and put on real pants and go stand in the line and fill out the paper form that is inevitably required even though you filled the same thing online, but also that it … really didn’t matter if I got sick or not.

I life-coached my way through it by telling myself that it was the right thing to do (not me cluttering up a hospital bed when healthcare resources are already so strained, can you even imagine all the apologizing I’d have to do with my final breaths), plus it was a good example to set for the kids, plus when you’re in the land of Nah you can’t trust your instincts, which are strong: Go out with friends? Nah. Just text a friend? Nah. Take CARE of your drain-circling self instead of making everything worse with caffeine and a comically bad diet and phone scrolling and Instacart-fueled isolation? Nahhhhhhhhhh.

Real talk, I have not been enjoying this lengthy stay in Nah and I very much hope to find the inner oomph to pick myself up and depart from it soon — although it is perhaps an improvement on drifting around in the Moors of Endless Internal Wailing.

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