I did not sign up for this.
That’s what most of us are feeling. The aching helplessness we can’t escape is exausting. Even after two tequilas on a Tuesday afternoon. Our fate is unknown and our health, our people, all the most valuable stuff — is vulnerable.
We are lost at sea.
At the end of last week I summoned a thought. I am a Strong. Ass. Woman. I have been through some stuff. Really hard, flat-on-my-ass, lonely, break everything about me, never-told-anyone kind of stuff. Dangerous wild stuff.
And I survived. I even prospered. And so, as I hold my family together, I tap into that. We all can. It’s survival. The cooked meals. The careful journey for food. Shifting directions. Yes, a woman was made for this.
How am I doing it? Not gracefully. But one day at a time. As a mom. As a wife. As a friend. As a citizen. As a woman. As someone who is scared.
Here’s how I’ve been surviving:
We must soak in each sunny day. Pollen and all. It doesn’t matter. Last Friday night I rode in Elle’s Barbie Jeep and recorded her giggles. I really heard her. That was pretty cool.
Turns out that the fourth grade math “review” the past 2 weeks was really for me. Next week, new material is going to be unleashed. No one is going to hire him after college with this foundation. But I’m doing it.
And yep, I cut Cooper’s hair. I know it looks horrible, thanks.
I ignored the push-up challenges I was tagged in on Instagram and have been eating all the white bread BLTs. That’s bourbon-honey glazed bacon – Bobby Flay knows what we need.
CBD oil has been great for the anxiety. I heard my grandpa even uses it. After his oatmeal. He’s the cutest; we’re in this together.
If I must craft… a craft cocktail will go with. It helps. This recipe channelled my new QuaranQueen Ina Garten. Perfect antidote for it all. I had 2.
I’ve been tending to my face in the magnifying mirror. A lot. Pores. Peach fuzz. Kathleen Jennings has me masking in the morning. I’m fully invested. I have ordered all the moisturizers. To make myself feel better.
Walking it off. I’ve been personally impressed with the amount of garage clean-outs I’ve seen. Shelving envy is a real thing.
I dug out my favorite movies. Can’t Buy Me Love, Adventures in Babysitting, The Secret Of My Success, Money Pit, Mr. Mom. I’m an 80s gal.
My friends are my family. Zoom calls aren’t our ideal way to hang out. But we are doing it. Notice some of us listened to the 80s theme and some did not.
And I sit out back. And meditate. Or what I consider close to meditating: time alone not making anyone’s meals. Or teaching anyone break-apart numbers. Or rescheduling activities. Or starting ZOOM calls. Or doing laundry. Or cleaning all the things.
I can’t wait for things to get moving again. I know the kids will ultimately be fine but I know they are currently stuck hanging on an upside down broken-down rollercoaster. Waiting.
And I feel that. We all must wait.
That’s the hardest part.