“You got this… You got this…” I mumbled to myself as I got in my Xterra, a "Clear Mind" Kombucha in hand. For a moment, I sat in my hot vehicle, giving myself some time to relax and stop shaking briefly before turning the keys and getting on my way. I’d given myself almost an hour to drive to campus and get to class, and I knew almost exactly where I was going. I was just nervous. So nervous, in fact, that I couldn’t stop shivering. 

 

34.4 Million confirmed cases, 610,049+ deaths, and seventeen months since the first lockdowns began, we (the United States) are still getting our asses kicked by a vicious little virus called covid-19. 

Needless to say, ever since my therapist went on vacation a week or so ago, my life has been snowballing downhill. Everything that could possibly break has been breaking (including, but not limited to, my mom’s rav4 (which nobody can figure out what’s wrong), my laptop, the entire basement of our house, the rotors in my Xterra, and much more), and much more. Clarke got really sick last week and is just now starting to get better, claiming it was just his sinuses. But, I strongly suspect he got some form of covid, as he’s only gotten one dose of a two-dose vaccine. My dogs both have allergies, causing their ears to swell and itch, though with some ear medication and regular cleaning, the swelling is finally going down. 

Most people go through an identity crisis at some point in their lives. For many, this identity crisis hits in their teens and twenties; the years where we are heavily invested in figuring things out and discovering who we are. And, it’s something I’m currently in the thick of. 

Note: I'm not quite sure what to title this piece. I'm torn between these titles:

"Shitbox Shenanigans"

"Just Jeep Things"

"A Wild Jeep in its Natural Habitat"

"That's not Our Tow Strap, Is It?"

"That's not the Clutch, is it?"

"Snow Wheelin"

"Whose Bad Idea Was This?"

"Where the hell even are we?"