I have this visual in my head of who I am. Positive. Strong. Empathetic. Good in a crisis. Graceful under pressure. And then I look down 16 days into a stay at home order and realize I’m literally the opposite of that. My thoughts: everything is terrible. My will: forget keto, I’m eating the potato chips. My mood: mostly angry at lack of leadership mixed in with a lot of sadness for the people who are suffering during this crisis. My focus: meh. With coffee I am able to focus enough to be productive at work. Then I crash afterwards, as if compartmentalizing all my emotions during the day costs me at night.
Speaking of night, my transition from coffee, of which I have become completely re-addicted, to wine typically occurs sometime between 5-6PM, just after taking a reallllly long walk while maintaining six feet distance between myself and others.
And I recognize that I’m beyond lucky. My wife, who is normally out of town for work, is home and healthy. We have literally spent more time together in the past three weeks than in in the past six years. At least in terms of days in a row in the same city. We’re both healthy. Still employed. Have great health insurance. And at the time of this writing the people we know and love the most are safe and healthy as well. We are quarantined in a lovely, spacious home that we love. Everything is fine. I already work from home, so my days are generally the same. Technically. We don’t have kids. Which means we aren’t doing the delicate dance of trying to work productively while also homeschooling children. We’ve been mostly able to find the food and supplies we want.
And yet the gap between the picture in my head of who I am and who I actually am in this moment is as wide as the Grand Canyon. Here’s my challenge: I have been CRAVING a slower pace. Time with my wife. Finally being able to keep up with the pace of our lives, as it so often feels like I’m just a clip behind. And so here it is. And instead of meditating, working out, reading all those books I checked out from the library just before they closed their doors, I’m wavering between caffeine addiction and drinking two glasses of wine. Every. Single. Night. What gives?
As I reflect on this question, it occurs to me that I wasn’t this zen version of myself BEFORE this happened. I was out of practice in meditating, struggling with getting back into a rigorous, consistent workout routine, and my mood often fluctuated between a sense of I should be doing more with my free time and plain overwhelm and overstimulation at times. Why did I think that all I needed was more time, less scheduled shit, to fully step into who I am? Why did I think I would suddenly have constant lifted spirits and would be able to apply all that energy to all the things I have been meaning to do?
I am reminded of a time, about five years ago, when I went through a sudden, traumatic medical event that took away my option to have a baby, something I had been holding out for. All at once it felt like a huge slice of my femininity was lopped off. A darkness crept over me so suddenly that I couldn’t breathe. And still, in moments of clarity, I had that vision of myself as a pillar of strength in tough times. I wanted to be the Jackie Kennedy of grief.
What I learned then, and what I am remembering on and off now is that it isn’t so much the loss of things, or grief, or whatever the stress is that impacts me the most. It’s my own judgment and often avoidance of it. The baby grief didn’t begin to subside until I was able to fully acknowledge it and go into it, letting myself fall apart regularly, often while trying to avoid the baby section at Target. I recall that once I let go of my need to be some type of way- graceful, zen, or an attempt at perfect, I could let all the emotions come up and then they gradually went on their way. Today what I feel may be equated to grief I suppose, as so much is unknown about our future as a country, as communities, as a workforce, as a leader in the global economy.
What I do know is this – this is our time. After this, it will be important to hold people accountable for what led to the many failures in this pandemic. But for now, in this moment, my goal and my hope for you is that we can be present, open to our emotions, embracing of our fragility, and forgiving of ourselves and others. Be well my friends.
