Most people like to think that in a crisis they would act heroically. I would tackle a bank robber. I would hide vulnerable people in my attic. I would fight for what’s right even if it risks my well-being. I would march alongside MLK. I would feed my spouse and children first. I would let travelers into my zombie-survival fortress. Now, we’re all being forced - not so graciously - to look our true natures in the eye. First, because of a virus that threatens our mortality and the mortality of those we love. Second, because the Black Lives Matter movement has forced us to evaluate our silence. |
Third, because economic plunder affects (almost) everybody.
Fourth, because the choices you make could literally result in your being thrown into an unmarked van or hung from a tree.
Fifth, because it’s only July, y’all. Who knows what fresh hell will come next?
So how does the person in the mirror match up with your fantasy?
I’ll tell you - I was way off.
Some people I thought were important to me have been let go.
Some people I thought were let go have been held onto ferociously.
Some rules I thought were important have been haphazardly abandoned.
Meaningless items have been purchased (like, a lot of them).
Hair has been dyed and cut.
Animals have been traded.
Screens have been on.
And on. And on.
Frozen waffles have been consumed in mass quantities.
Promises have been broken.
Conversations that used to be whispered are now conducted aloud.
Thoughts that used to be vocalized are now withheld.
Minds have been changed.
And changed. And changed.
Fourth, because the choices you make could literally result in your being thrown into an unmarked van or hung from a tree.
Fifth, because it’s only July, y’all. Who knows what fresh hell will come next?
So how does the person in the mirror match up with your fantasy?
I’ll tell you - I was way off.
Some people I thought were important to me have been let go.
Some people I thought were let go have been held onto ferociously.
Some rules I thought were important have been haphazardly abandoned.
Meaningless items have been purchased (like, a lot of them).
Hair has been dyed and cut.
Animals have been traded.
Screens have been on.
And on. And on.
Frozen waffles have been consumed in mass quantities.
Promises have been broken.
Conversations that used to be whispered are now conducted aloud.
Thoughts that used to be vocalized are now withheld.
Minds have been changed.
And changed. And changed.
Therapy has been ditched. Anger has been building. School has stopped. Work has swapped. University has hit pause. Escaping has been denied. Individualism has been vetoed. Safety has won over loyalty. Solidarity has won over safety. Exhaustion has won over solidarity. And hope is really, really hard to keep. |
You know what’s weird? I’m okay with it. I have peace with all the incongruities and lack-luster dissociation and shifting perceptions of inadequacy. I’m okay with disappointing others and disappointing myself. I can live with falling short of the person I’d like to be. Today, at least. Because we’re all just doing the best we can with what we have: literally and figuratively.
Robert E. Quinn calls it the “fundamental state”, referring to, “the way you lead when a crisis forces you to tap into your deepest values and instincts.” Well, you wanted a crisis? How about five?
Here are some things I’m choosing to celebrate:
1. The cats have gotten fatter. Fat, happy cats.
The cats are fat and happy because there are mice. There are mice because the dog poop isn’t being picked up and there’s food on the floor (see point 2). But the cats’ increased body mass makes them feel like weighted blankets when they lay on your chest, which is very good for anxiety.
2. There’s flour EVERYWHERE.
The kids are learning to bake. It’s one of the few activities they enjoy doing together, and
for this reason, I buy endless amounts of flour and sugar and butter. Also, for this reason, my kitchen looks like a Winter-freaking-wonderland. But you haven’t lived until you’ve had a spoonful of brown-sugar coated in blue chocolate fed to you by a giggling 8-year-old.
3. I’ve gained weight.
I’ve gained weight because I drink a lot more alcohol than I did a few months ago, and because of the aforementioned waffles. I’ve gained the COVID “19” as I like to say. This gives me an opportunity to shake my jiggly bits at my kids and talk about body awareness. When my 9yo asked me why my “butt expanded” I got to show her my mad twerking skills and when my 8yo told me my “boobs are being crushed” by my bra, we agreed to spend a glorious afternoon freeing the nipple. Oh, the things kids say.
4. I spend way too much time on Facebook.
Because CONNECTION. Guys, I’m too tired to talk. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to invest in friends and send the Marco Polos and have the play-dates and make the phone calls like I used to. But I can hit a “like” button. Or a “share” button. I can type. I can commune and contribute and extend and invest. I can dialogue - oh man, can I dialogue. I feel helpful. I feel unified. I feel connected. I don’t feel like a selfish, social island.
5. I’ve named all 48 of my plants.
From Angel to Ziggy, every day I spray my plants and say their names. I’m fairly certain I’m changing on the inside. Hopefully, there will be growth (and a little defoliate) when we’re on the other side of this. But every day I get to watch the plants grow, and change, and shed, and try again. I need that right now.
Robert E. Quinn calls it the “fundamental state”, referring to, “the way you lead when a crisis forces you to tap into your deepest values and instincts.” Well, you wanted a crisis? How about five?
Here are some things I’m choosing to celebrate:
1. The cats have gotten fatter. Fat, happy cats.
The cats are fat and happy because there are mice. There are mice because the dog poop isn’t being picked up and there’s food on the floor (see point 2). But the cats’ increased body mass makes them feel like weighted blankets when they lay on your chest, which is very good for anxiety.
2. There’s flour EVERYWHERE.
The kids are learning to bake. It’s one of the few activities they enjoy doing together, and
for this reason, I buy endless amounts of flour and sugar and butter. Also, for this reason, my kitchen looks like a Winter-freaking-wonderland. But you haven’t lived until you’ve had a spoonful of brown-sugar coated in blue chocolate fed to you by a giggling 8-year-old.
3. I’ve gained weight.
I’ve gained weight because I drink a lot more alcohol than I did a few months ago, and because of the aforementioned waffles. I’ve gained the COVID “19” as I like to say. This gives me an opportunity to shake my jiggly bits at my kids and talk about body awareness. When my 9yo asked me why my “butt expanded” I got to show her my mad twerking skills and when my 8yo told me my “boobs are being crushed” by my bra, we agreed to spend a glorious afternoon freeing the nipple. Oh, the things kids say.
4. I spend way too much time on Facebook.
Because CONNECTION. Guys, I’m too tired to talk. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to invest in friends and send the Marco Polos and have the play-dates and make the phone calls like I used to. But I can hit a “like” button. Or a “share” button. I can type. I can commune and contribute and extend and invest. I can dialogue - oh man, can I dialogue. I feel helpful. I feel unified. I feel connected. I don’t feel like a selfish, social island.
5. I’ve named all 48 of my plants.
From Angel to Ziggy, every day I spray my plants and say their names. I’m fairly certain I’m changing on the inside. Hopefully, there will be growth (and a little defoliate) when we’re on the other side of this. But every day I get to watch the plants grow, and change, and shed, and try again. I need that right now.
To everyone else: If I’ve abandoned you, I’m sorry. If I’ve clung to you, thank you. If I’ve annoyed you, you’re probably getting to know me better. If I’ve disagreed with you, I still love you. If I’ve inspired you, it’s only because I’ve been inspired by others.
To myself: just keep fucking going. This will all look different tomorrow (again).
To myself: just keep fucking going. This will all look different tomorrow (again).