I’ve been trying to be mindful of not spending my entire day scrolling through various social media platforms and have been doing a pretty good job of intentionally leaving my phone in the other room so I’m not tempted. Yesterday, during one of my mindful scrolling times, one of my fave food bloggers (Defined Dish) posted a video of a full rainbow going across the sky in Dallas. I started crying immediately. Like full on ugly crying. This morning, I went for a walk and listened to Brene Brown’s first podcast episode about FFTs (y’all need to listen) and started crying again. Apparently I’m feeling some kind of way about whatever this new normal is.
And so as we adjust to whatever this is that we’re calling life now, I’m trying to be reflective about what it’s teaching me. Here’s a shortlist of what I’ve learned (some of it’s not new, I’ve just been reminded) in week 1 of #socialdistancing:
- I do a good job of pretending I’m flexible but it’s a real struggle for me.
- Inhaling and exhaling are super helpful.
- I love my job and feel lost without it.
- Literally watching flowers bloom is good for the soul.
- It’s okay to not be “productive” every second of my life.
- My 4 year old (5 in a month) is so much like me it’s unreal. I know this is why I struggle with him more than my oldest. I also know this is why he needs a whole hell of a lot of grace during this weird time.
- Crying is therapeutic. So are long walks. So are baths. So is reading for fun. So is just sitting somewhere in the quiet.
- I joke that I would love this whole quarantining thing if I was actually by myself but I know that I’m so incredibly lucky to have the three people I love most in the world with me.
- It’s okay to advocate for what I need to feel sane. This includes locking myself in my room with my Headspace app for 10 minutes of meditation.
- I’m introverted to the core and part of that introversion means I cherish my few, close relationships so much and I value quality time with the people I love. I’m grateful for technology and the ability to see them and talk to them so easily. When will we get to be together again?
This is a weird connection, but these are weird times – I remember thinking about deciding if I was going to have an epidural with either of my children. First time around, I held out as long as I could but then it got to be too much and the angel in yellow came in and delivered me from the pain. I remember talking to a friend about it after the fact and she said she’d have been able to hold out if someone could assure her exactly how long it was going hurt. Like “yes, this is going to hurt like nothing else but it will be over in 4 hours.” The uncertainty was the thing that made the pain so scary. I’m feeling the same about this situation. If we knew that in four weeks, life was going to go back to normal, I’d be like “alright, deep breath, we got this.” The fact that no one knows is the hardest part.
How’re you doing?