likes to call me at 3 a.m. That would probably alarm most people, but we frequently speak most between the hours of midnight and four in the morning. At bars on the weekend, when bars on the weekend were a thing, you could most likely find me sipping on a drink in a corner, talking over my friends, saying: “Hey Mom.” of a big Manhattan hospital as a nurse.
My mom likes to call me at 3 a.m. That would probably alarm most people but these days I am wide awake, laying in bed, thinking of her and of everything. My anxiety has gotten so bad, my baby pug puppy who sleeps nuzzled into my elbow cannot even calm me down. My mom calls to tell me how she’s doing. “Tara!! Stop crying! It’ll be fine!” The irony of her calming me down while she is on the frontlines in the epicenter of a global pandemic as I lay in the comfort of my own home is not lost on me.
So a couple weeks ago, I decided to try to do something about it. I rearranged a couple of things in my room in an attempt to feng shui the place. I hung some plants above my window next to my bed so I wasn’t just staring up at the ceiling all night. I told my puppy to never change, she was perfect just the way she was. And I ordered some
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