8 a.m.
We had a quick video shoot, so I got up at my usual time, dressed, poured my coffee and headed into work. The parking lot was fuller than I’d anticipated. It almost felt like a normal day. Just for a minute.
Our department was pretty sparse, everyone off making decisions and scrambling to protect people and form policies. I checked in with the folks who were there, always at least four feet between us, and we engaged in what has now become the typical “this is crazy” conversation before heading back home.
9:30 am
My high school girlfriends – The OGs – have an ongoing group text thread. The screen on my phone lit up. It was them. Howls from my wolves out in the woods somewhere. We were taking each other’s temperature. How is everyone? How are your kids? How is your heart?
One of my girlfriends shared that she’s not great, feeling anxious and isolated. She said she plans to go deep into prayer and meditation in the coming days. I didn’t say it, but I’ve been going deep into food for all the same reasons. Some people turn to a higher power. I turn to high fructose corn syrup. I have work to do.
The messages kept coming … canceled vacations, sick parents, lost wages … These aren’t just people out there on the Internet. These are my people. My people are facing uncertainty. And my people are losing hope. And my people are coming undone. Somehow tossing out a text just doesn’t feel like a long enough rope to pull any of us back to shore. Back to safety.
A siren wailed in the distance.
10:30 am
Some thoughtful soul posted on our neighborhood facebook page that people should decorate shamrocks and put them up in their windows so kids could walk around and spot them. I pulled out the craft goodies and had the chicks get to work. Distraction is good. Tasks are good. Cut things out, paint them, throw glitter in the air. Anything to convince us there’s nothing to see here.
I could hear them from the other room, the oldest and the youngest, fighting again. Then me, yelling again. I had JoJo pull up a Cosmic Kids Yoga and ordered them each to get on a mat. “You all need to zen out for a little bit and quit driving me nuts!” Is this the definition of irony? Perhaps.
11 am
Just after 11, my body turned up the volume on what had been, up until that moment, a brewing anxiety attack. My chest was tight. I felt hot tears behind my lids. I could hear my racing pulse in my ears. Well, hello there, Panic. It’s been awhile. I stood up and started frantically swaying my arms back and forth, desperately trying to disengage the fight or flight hormones coursing through me.
Is it all the sugar I’ve been eating? Yes.
Is it the nature of my work? To some degree.
Is it being too plugged into the negative chatter? 100%.
Is it the girls fighting? Undoubtedly.
Is it fear? I’m sure.
It’s a million things and nothing at all, and for about 40 minutes my adrenaline surged and my nerves shook under my normal-looking flesh. For those of you who have experienced anxiety, you know the misery of its flexed muscle. The uneasy feeling in your stomach. The weight pressing down. The irrational conversation between your mind and your essential organs. If this was my body’s warning shot, the message is received: Move coping mechanisms to the top of the list.
(If you can relate entirely too well to this section of my post, please know that you are not alone. There are so many of us and there is so much strength, I believe, in speaking about it, naming it and fighting it in healthy ways.)
1 pm
At Hank’s recommendation (this is why God pairs people off), I text my niece to ask if she would ride her bike over and take the chicks out for a walk and some shamrock spotting. I had a work call.
Sidenote: Just to add a little more irony to this post, the call was with a group of mental health professionals to discuss the anxiety folks are experiencing as a result of the pandemic. Mind you, my primary focus was making sure that none of these co-workers could sense how completely dismantled I’d been just a short time before. How funny is that? I’m tossing out suggestions for “some people” when I was really just referencing myself and my close friends.
2 pm
My neighbor (and friend) sent a text in search of our country’s new currency, hand sanitizer. I happened to have a little bottle on hand, so I ran it over. I hope everyone has neighbors like we have. I’d spent the last hour pretending to be totally together and then walked into their house and did whatever the exact opposite of that is. I confessed that my beautiful children were driving me stark raving mad. That I was overwhelmed. Eating everything. Basically a stay at home working mom failure. They laughed, kindly, as people with hearts like theirs do.
The crew came marching up the street. They’d found 107 shamrocks to be exact and now had big plans to head over to Uncle Matt’s for a little hot tub party. I loaded them up in the car, clad in bathing suits with frilly netting and smiles that can only come with a lack of responsibility in a climate like this, and we drove through the neighborhood. Past windows plastered with homemade paper shamrocks and teenagers awkwardly strolling in pairs. Past parents cleaning out garages and waving from a safe distance. It’s our neighborhood. But it isn’t. But it is.
5:30 pm
Tonight I still have videos to post and tweets to answer. Tonight I have to set the girls up for online learning, which starts at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow (Praise be!) I have to do something with chicken in the instant pot and put away 300 pairs of folded socks I made the girls match this morning. But tomorrow, you guys … Tomorrow it begins.
Tomorrow, I’m going to get up early and sweat. I’m going to do my affirmations with extra conviction. I’m going to take my walk with JoJo around the back path. I’m going to help people but respect my own healthy boundaries. I’m going to eat things that nourish me (big one!) and I’m going to take thoughtful breaks. Tomorrow I’m going to hit refresh, reboot and do everything I can to keep my anxiety at bay. Because I’m still here and I’m sure, with time and grace, it will all be OK. But not tonight. Tonight I need wine.
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