Hello Loves.
I have written so many versions of this post. Perfectionism is the enemy of done. And creativity. And humility.
I simply don’t know what to say. My feelings about what is happening change day to day, hour to hour. There is an incredible amount of information to take in – they’re putting bodies in moving vans in Manhattan! Shelter-in-place through the summer?! Inject Lysol to cure COVID?! (omg) – on a daily basis. The whole world is grieving their life Before COVID. The whole world is living with complete uncertainty about the future (which has always existed, of course, but has never been more salient). I am constantly overwhelmed.
I don’t know what to say that will add value to the conversation, that is different than what anyone else is already saying (and better), that will bring any comfort or clarity. I have no answers. I told my Sister-in-Law last month that I was both completely fascinated by this crisis and also never want to talk about it again. I am tired of talking about it, and can’t stop talking about it. And honestly, at this point, I really just need to say something to acknowledge what is happening because I can’t bring myself to share anything else that I’ve been thinking about until I do. So, I still don’t know what to say, but I do know some things about crisis – experiencing the gift of crisis (and/or the gift of desperation) is almost a prerequisite for people in recovery – that I can share. Here we go…
I know this: We are smack dab in the middle. Probably the end of the first third. Who even knows? We are just past the beginning and before the end. We don’t yet know the arc of this story. We don’t yet know how long this will last, or how much this will permanently change our world. Without a full story, it is difficult to create meaning; how do we know the moral, if we don’t yet know how the story ends?
Puppy therapy during the quarantine.
I know this: All of Life is both/and, and this crisis is only making that more clear. I have All the Feelings, and I’m also okay. I am fascinated and excited by the possibility of this historical moment, and I am devastated at the amount of suffering that is happening in the world today. I am grateful, all the time, for all of the gifts of this crisis; and I am also bummed about everything that it has taken away. I am inspired by the perspective that this time period is an invitation to learn Spanish / write a novel / train for a marathon / enjoy the pause, and I am exhausted and want to watch Netflix on the couch and want everyone to stop pressuring me to make the most of this time. I am both super motivated and ambitious, and super overwhelmed and tired. I like working from home, and I can not wait to get out of the house at the end of the workday. I am both ecstatically excited about the day that I’ll get to hug all of my people again, and I am overwhelmed at the thought of being so close to so many people again. I want people to stay inside to keep everyone – especially the most vulnerable among us – safe, and I also understand the desperation and fear of those that have lost wages, livelihoods, security. We need to balance the very real threat to public health and the very real threat of financial insecurity. We have never been so connected – in a fight against a common enemy, in our vulnerability, in our need for a universal response – and we have never been so isolated and alone. In some ways, I am living my best life – lots of reading, writing, cooking, walking in nature, hanging out with Daniel – and this is still really, really hard.
I know this: We are all doing the best that we can, and that is enough. People, we need to be kind to ourselves. Nobody ever said to go spend 24/7 with your family unit – and no one else – because it would be really good for your relationships. Nobody ever said that isolation, lack of physical and community connection, and a fear of getting too close to other people would be good for our mental health. Listen to me: It is totally cool if quarantine is causing your creativity to explode and your productivity to skyrocket. And it is equally cool if your biggest accomplishment today was not killing your people. We do not have to be in a perfectly zen state of acceptance all the time. We do not need to be model homeschool teachers for our children. We do not need to soak up every moment of family togetherness. We do not need to landscape our yards, write our memoirs, and learn guitar. We do not need to win at quarantine; we only need to survive quarantine, preferably without killing our people. Daniel and I talk a lot about grace, and quarantine has given us so many opportunities to practice it.
I know this: This is hard. The truth is that I really, really don’t want to live Life on Life’s terms right now because I think that Life’s terms suuuuuuuuuck. I have been mildly-to-moderately-inconvenienced by this, which is a privilege – people are sick and alone; people are terrified about how they will pay their rent or buy food; people can’t have funerals for their loved ones that have died – and it’s still hard. We had a family zoom call with my parents, and Brother, Sister-in-Law, and their babies on my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary. I laughed through the call as tears streamed down my face; I was so happy to see the kids, and wrecked that I don’t know when I’ll see them in real life again. The Unknown is hard and uncomfortable. I also know this: We can do hard things. Humans are incredibly resilient; we were built with a tremendous capacity to adapt. The Truth is, Life is always hard for humans; the awareness that we will die is both a gift and a burden. (This is why so many of us practice some amount of faith.) We do hard things every damn day: we say goodbye to people that we love; we go to unfulfilling, challenging, or demanding jobs; our cars break down; we lose our homes to fire and foreclosure; we make amends; we help people who are suffering; we have miscarriages; the list is endless.
I know this: We only have to live one day at a time. We only can live one day at a time. My sponsor uses the phrase ‘spinning of into the wreckage of our future’ to describe the anxiety that happens in my / our heads about what could be, and that is exactly what happens when I entertain the idea of being semi-quarantined for a year. There is so much conversation about what people – scientists, politicians, the general public, my friends – think will happen. How long will we be sheltered-in-place? How long after that will we need to wear masks and socially distance? How many people will die? What will the world look like in The After? And the reality is: We just don’t freaking know yet. And no amount of thinking or worrying about it is going to change that reality. Focusing on one day at a time means that when my mind starts to wonder into the wreckage of our future, I gently bring it back to where my feet are, in the present. I don’t have to worry about how I will be quarantined for a year; I just need to be quarantined for today, and today – one day (or, sometimes, one hour) – is manageable. One day at a time is how we do hard things.
I know this: Crisis is a spotlight. So many problems that existed in our culture before – income inequality; disproportionality; homelessness; lack of access to healthcare; the list goes on – have been exacerbated. People are suffering, and the suffering is likely to continue. There has never been a stronger argument for universal healthcare, for a universal basic income, for housing first philosophies. I also know this: Crisis is an opportunity. Crisis invites us to hold our values and our ideas about how we live up to the light, to reflect on whether they represent the people that we want to be, to see if they are true enough. We can begin to imagine how our society could be: what the world would look like if we took care of each other, what the world would look like if we shaped it to serve the most vulnerable among us, what the world would look like if there was no Other. This crisis could lead to revolution; what does the world that we want to build – the world that we want to live in – look like?
Okay, I think that’s all that I know for now. And, at this point, I just need to push publish and stop obsessing. Onward.
Love you all so much. Take good care of yourselves and each other. ❤
She Won't Stop Talking 