It's like you have a Lego house. You're just an itsy bitsy tiny little lego guy.
You've been working really hard on this Lego house. Every day it seems to get a little better, a little bigger.
And then one day you see storm clouds and something just feels off, like you feel it the moment you open your eyes in the morning but you ignore it because you think it'll go away, you've been here before, it's probably just another tiny storm.
But you've underestimated it. It's not just a tiny storm. It's a monsoon and now it's ripping apart your Lego house from the inside.
And you don't call anyone for help because they'd say "oh, again?"
So you stand there, watching this monsoon tear down something that's taken you weeks to rebuild.
But you understand the routine.
When it's over you rest.
Because that's all you can do.
And when you wake up you add that very first Lego block and you start building again.
You don't know where it is. You don't know when it'll be back, but you keep building.
Because that's what they tell you that you have to do.