Three Weeks In
Hello dear one,
Three weeks ago, a Thursday afternoon of the first week of our spring break, we picked our daughter up from preschool and went to the grocery store for food. That evening, March 12, 2020, we decided to begin physically isolating ourselves at home because we could see that COVID19 was to be taken seriously even while college kids partied at beaches and people crowded into stores. Even while businesses were just starting to allow employees to work from home and schools were still open. It felt like the safest move for our family, and also the easiest thing we could do to help, to make a difference. To actually show we care, by not showing up anywhere anymore at all. (see: flatten the curve)
Three weeks in, each day is somehow totally the same and yet entirely different. It is so reminisce of my entry to motherhood, and that in itself is triggering. I try to have a routine, to do the things I know will help most, and yet each day the chips fall differently and in a pattern I didn't expect. I'm (mostly) alone, in new territory hourly, and all of it feels a bit unstable, anxiety-ridden, and uncertain.
One day my daughter was an exhausted, miserable wreck (as 3 year olds can be) and I had zero bandwidth to be an empathetic mother. Another day I was so hyped up that I ran at the track in the morning and hiked for an hour in the afternoon. Most days I feel both overwhelmed and isolated, and each day is as slow as the sloths in Zootopia.
I stopped checking in on the news because it sets off an un-grounded panic in my body, and because there's not much I can do from here except to keep doing what I'm doing - living my life by parenting my kid, checking in on my people, and staying home/out of public areas and away from other people.
Life for our little family of three isn't much different than before COVID. In fact, besides the utter lack of childcare, it's almost easier. H's job is still demanding, but less hours, so he's home more to parent A and support me. Meanwhile, I'm just coming off 18 months of stay-at-home parenting without childcare. I feel very prepared to be safe at home with my child for hours on end.
I'm also putting way less pressure on myself because there's not much that can be done. No childcare means not much business building. No playdates and activities means no rushing to get there on time or be social when I don't have the energy. There's no place to spend money, or invites to be social, or events to attend. And with everything shut down and everyone isolating, I can be my introverted self, no problem.
But did I mention already, I have no childcare? Just like you. Same boat. So the space I have to myself, physically, emotionally, and mentally is super limited. When you add in the energetic toll the news can take on my high sensitivity, it's no wonder that, even though my life shrunk back down to a day-to-day existence with a small child, I still have very limited bandwidth.
In short, we're totally fine. We have our home, our space, our income, and our health. More than most people, I know. And also (because if the current state of life isn't the perfect time for both/and living, what is?) each day I find myself a bit overwhelmed, a bit frazzled, or lonely, or needier than I'd like to admit.
And that's OK. That's me being human in this very human current situation.
This writing doesn't feel deep or helpful, really, but I hope it's serving a purpose: to record where we are right now, a place for my honesty about how I'm doing, and hopefully a little bit of space to be honest with how you're feeling and to recognize you're human too.
This is a big, new, scary, uncertain event we're all going through. I am grateful for everything I have and to be writing these words to you. And everything you're feeling is valid and true for you and I encourage you to stay with yourself, as best you can, through this all.
Here for you,
x Justine