(Warning: this post discusses Covid 19, grief, mental health problems, and panic attacks)
June was horrible.
I'm not going to sugar-coat it - June sucked.
For those who don't know, at the very end of May I caught Covid after going to a My Chemical Romance concert (they do rock, though #JustSaying) - and it took me most of June to feel even half-way to human again.
I had ten full days of feeling like absolute hell - and the time since has been spent recovering.
Do NOT listen to people who call this mild.
The only way I'd refer to it as 'mild' is if you mean 'I didn't end up in hospital' - which, thank God that I'm triple-vaxxed because honestly, I'm not sure I would've stayed out of hospital otherwise.
If by 'mild' you mean 'like a cold,' or 'feeling a bit off,' or 'not feeling good but being semi-able to function,' then NO.
No, it is NOT mild.
Wear your masks.
Wash your hands.
Keep up social distancing where possible.