I was talking with my friend the other day, a 78-year old retired music teacher and theater director. “Silly me,” she said, “I thought I knew everything there was to know about people, including myself, but during all this I keep learning something new everyday!”
So do I. This week I learned how much I need to be in charge of my pantry.
My weekly grocery shopping
A silly lesson, I suppose, when you consider all the other critical lessons to be learned from a global pandemic. And certainly the fact that I was hyper anxious for days about waiting to pickup an online grocery order - would I get everything I needed? how would I manage meals if I didn’t? - tells me that there’s more going on than just a need to have food in the house (although food is no small thing!) The fact that I was so worried about whether my grocery order would be successful, whether I would get the things that I ordered or still have to go into the store, just reminded me how strong my desire to control my life is. Groceries, food planning, meals – those are some of the few precious things under my control right now.
In the end, I’ve decided a weekly trip to the grocery store is worth all the necessary precautions and the possible risk. My sanity is at stake. Once I completed a huge grocery shop last Saturday (because the online order was woefully incomplete, just as I feared) I felt immensely relieved and actually slept through the night three nights running.
Overall this fifth week has been the most anxious yet for me. Aside from the grocery struggles, winter weather returned, keeping us very housebound. I’m struggling with my new book - smack dab in the messy middle where I can’t quite find the voice I’m searching for. I had news of a friend receiving a dire cancer diagnosis.
April is living up to T.S. Eliot’s description of it as “the cruelest month.”
Plus, there have been far too many instances of people in the world behaving badly – our own state capitol swarming with protestors who complain the stay-at-home orders “violate their constitutional rights.” Ugh. This is a national emergency. Our state has the third highest level of cases in the country. Our Governor has taken seriously her mandate to protect the people of her state – unlike the ignorant buffoon in the White House who would obviously let us all die as long as he could somehow come out smelling like a rose.
Yes. I’ve had a lot of anger this week. This was the week I was tempted to say, “F—K it, I’m done. I need to go out to eat and visit my friends and get books at the library and meander through the shops downtown. I need my life back.”
But who knows when/if we will get to return to our “regularly scheduled lives.” It’s becoming more and more clear that the “fix” is more than weeks or even months away. Even as things begin to resume slowly and piecemeal, won’t I still be afraid? How long before I can feel safe going out and doing the “normal” things I need and want to do? I don’t think I’ll feel truly safe until there is a vaccine, or at the least, a proven remedy.
What I’m feeling now as we just barely begin to think about the next steps, is anticipatory grief for the things that are bound to change. Our beloved summer concert series downtown- will that happen? Eating al fresco at our favorite restaurants? The community theater summer camp I enjoy so much?
All the while realizing that I sit here privileged to be healthy, home safe, and financially solvent.
I’m trying not to beat myself up about this week’s emotional backslide. I know it’s okay. I’ve prided myself on being calm, cool, and collected so far - perhaps I was overdue for a minor meltdown.
This morning I’m up with the sun and thankful to see that bright orb (a nod to poet Mary Oliver.) I’ll pull myself back into those rituals that save me…those precious minutes every morning snuggled in bed with my coffee cup, my book, and Lacey curled tightly in the crook of my leg; writing three pages in my notebook every day; a daily walk outside, taking in the hopeful signs of spring everywhere, greeting neighbors as we pass each other from opposite sides of the road; preparing the comfort food we eat settled on our couch watching old TV sitcoms or new PBS series.
And I will write –” heart to pen to paper,” a mantra of words I cut out of a magazine and posted near my desk. I remind myself that we make meaning through storytelling, through narrating the experiences of life – the good, the bad, the ugly – and using those stories to connect with others.
And I desperately need CONNECTION these days.
As always, I’m grateful for the space and time to connect with YOU as we navigate these uncharted waters together.
Be well.
How are things in your world this week? What are you thinking about resuming a “new normal” life? What will it take to make you feel safe in the world again? What’s been saving your life?