Pull Focus

I miss writing, and so, I come back to it in a looping way, like you return to a favorite album or book. Knowing there's comfort here. Knowing I can revisit some aspects of myself that maybe I've disconnected from through whatever challenging time I'm experiencing.

And whew, isn't 2020 the definition of challenging times?

The pandemic and its rising numbers, an uprising of social and racial justice movements, calls to defund the police, a downturn in the economy, the question if and when it's safe to open schools, and the ever confusing, collectively abusive nature of the current president. It is enough to really knock a person down. Repeatedly.

So I am not downplaying any of what we're experiencing when I come on here to write about my small, everyday life. My hope is that I can pull focus to the larger picture for myself. This is not the year I envisioned and the constant flux and lack of certainty is exhausting. To read about and know people who are struggling at a more acute level is heartbreaking and overwhelming, and shines a spotlight on my own privilege and luck in this lifetime.

And, and, and... my daughter is growing and thriving. We feel thankful for the choices our past-selves made in moving us to this boarding school campus, because if we're going to be quarantined for a long while, let it be where we have access to outdoor spaces, neighbors, and a financial overheard that is much lower than in our past life. We have some childcare and H is around due to the nature of his online teaching schedule in the spring and his summer break. Our kiddo is just a bit too young for this to directly affect her schooling. We were offered a new apartment and were able to move last month (and the space is so much nicer, I walk around in gratitude every day). We have our van to help us socially-distance travel. Our family and friends are healthy.

In some ways, life is the same. I am stay-at-home-parenting while trying to figure out a way to fit my own creativity and coaching into our days. The weather here is delighting me with balmy 85 degree days and chilly nights.

I'm reading fiction and taking a break from social media and staying up too late because summer and spending most afternoons at the campus pool (adhering to COVID19 guidelines, of course).

And then, things we just started to enjoy with A as she turned three are off-limits: playgrounds, ice skating rinks, movie theaters, theme/water parks, children's museums, shows, music class, sporting events, more substantial schooling, libraries, and of course playdates or traveling in general.

I'm anticipating the back-to-school transition to be as painful for me as every other year whether students come back to campus or stay on a distance learning plan. I know those 80 degree days will turn to 100 degree days and it will feel really hard for a few weeks. Things continue to evolve and go up and down with the moon cycle, the seasons.

What I keep reminding myself is that change is hard. Even if we think the changes are small or bearable. That there is grief in every time a plan gets blown up or an expectation about the future evaporates. And that certainty is something I use to create a sense of safety and assurance for myself, so I'm being asked to turn towards other options and learn new skills (which again bring change and/or grief).

So, just noticing. Feeling. Numbing. Grounding. Being human. And trying my best not to judge myself for it.