Do you ever have the feeling that you are reliving a nightmare day after day? It's like the movie Groundhog Day but rather than Sonny and Cher awakening me each day, the sounds of my children that drive me from my slumber. I stretch, yawn, flip my pillow to the cold side, and for a brief moment I don't remember. I don't remember that the Corona virus has swept through our world. I take a moment to think about what day it is, and whether or not I need to get the kids going for school. And then it hits me. Mother fucker. We are still here. I'm still here. Stuck. At home. With no end in sight. There is no going to work. There is no sending the kids to school. There is nothing to look forward to. There are no vacations anymore, nights at the theater, or game nights with friends. The girls can't go play at grandmas, they can't play at a friends. We are stuck in this and it is so much harder than I could have imagined.
I fully intended on journaling this crisis for my future grandchildren. I envisioned me sitting down at the end of the day, opening my notebook, writing by candlelight and expressing how it all felt. How it feels to have our world unrecognizable. How it feels to be stuck in our home. How it feels to want your mother's arms around you because good grief - you're not cut out for this! How it feels to be really really sad. How it feels knowing that Seth will soon be working on the front lines, at risk and gone for days. How he'll be at a high risk because we don't have enough protective equipment. How he might get sick. How he might die. How it feels to be angry at the lack of response from our government. How it feels to be heartbroken for friends who have lost work and potentially businesses. How it felt the first time I knew someone with the virus and that it was someone in my family that I absolutely adore. How fear gripped my heart and squeezed until my anxiety overcame me. How I feel utterly hopeless.
To be completely honest and vulnerable, I haven't been writing because many days I am barely coping. And by the time 8:00pm rolls around, and the girls are in bed, I don't have to keep the brave face on anymore. I don't have to pretend that everything is going to be ok and that "mom and dad will protect you." I pour a drink because I need life to have a softer edge. A glass of wine, a stiff martini, a shot of tequila, anything to help numb the day. This can't be reality right? This isn't really happening!
There is a big part of me that knows how silly it is to complain. Really. I have a beautiful home. Seth and I still have jobs. I have been told to stay home. Just stay home. So why is it so brutal? As an extrovert I need to be around people. I love being home but I also go stir-crazy if I am home all day and haven't left the house. I am a gatherer by nature. I love bringing people together. I love hosting parties at my house. I'm at my core a people-person. The loudest one at the party. The more the merrier!
I am restless by nature as well. I never imagined a life where I would be a stay-at-home mom. Part of the reason I had such bad postpartum depression was being stuck at home. I need work. I need to be intellectually challenged. I was more than thrilled to be back to work after a quick 6-8 weeks of maternity. I felt lighter and more balanced as soon as I was back into that routine and out of the house.
I know that all of us are scrambling. Those of us that have kids in school are suddenly faced with home schooling. As much as I knew I could never be a stay-at-home mom, there was ZERO reality in which I would ever be homeschooling my kids. Turns out, I hate it as much as I thought I would and I am even more terrible at it than I ever imagined I would be. I do believe that this week will be the week where we start to settle into a routine. At least for school. With routine I will be more productive as I work from home. I'm trying to raise money during the biggest economic crisis in history. And not just for the youth we serve but for my coworkers to still have a job. It's overwhelming and hard and scary.
So where does this all leave us? What am I learning during this horribly difficult time? I'm learning the healing power of the sun and that nothing brings me more peace than going outside and turning my face toward the warmth. I'm learning that my body has to move. This week wasn't great (see: depression and feeling of doom) but I have been doing yoga and running and it is truly a lifeline. I'm learning that food is a comfort and I haven't been giving my body the right foods to eat. I'm learning that I do love being around my children for 22 days straight (although I absolutely wish I could go out with some friends for the night and get away from them) Kids are resilient and relatively un-phased by all of this. My girls are learning to be the very best of friends. I'm learning that it's really nice to not live by my calendar and not have daily obligations. It's nice to not be constantly running around and feeling behind. I'm learning that I miss the simple things in life: Sunday dinner at Mom's, bunco, the sound of the Spy Hop students each afternoon. I miss my commute and the ability to listen to podcasts during the little "me time" I have each day. I miss knowing that the next big trip is on the horizon. I'm learning that no matter how surreal this time is that I find peace knowing we are all in this together. We are isolating together. We are mourning together. We are mourning for the life we have always had. We are mourning for the sick and the catastrophic deaths that we have seen and will see far more of. We are holding on tight to those that mean the most to us. We are checking in. We are texting, calling, and connecting as much as we can. We are uniting and that brings me hope.
Be gentle with yourselves. Be gentle with your partner/friends/family. Know that some days you will feel ok, you may even feel great. On those days, celebrate it. Dance in your kitchen, go out for a long walk in your neighborhood and talk to those you pass along the way. But also realize that some days will be hard. That motivation will be lost. That wine will be poured and hours of Netflix will be consumed. I genuinely hope that this week I start to settle into this new reality and that I find ways to deal with the anxiety and dread and turn into into something better. That in this time of corona, we all find a way to love it.
Stay strong people. Stay inside. Stay well.
