The Magnitude of it All
We all have our breaking point. Today was mine.
As a mother, a wife, a business owner, and generally a caring human being, today I crumble under the enormity of the situation we all find ourselves in.
F*** Covid.
Today I don’t want to deal with this stupid situation any longer. The responsibility and the pressure it inflicts on all of us is quite frankly, just too much. How are we supposed to keep ourselves and those we care about safe? How are we supposed to get up each morning and function normally? How are we supposed to deal with the tremendous amount of loss we all experience EVERY DAY. How how how??!!
What was the tipping point today? “Hallelujah” by Pentatonix. That amazing song that in an instant reminds me of my son that I can’t be with this year. Not just Christmas, but at all. Back in August I wrote this journal entry:
I woke up today feeling sorry for myself, without the right to do so.
I am away camping, during Covid-19, for the third time this season. This trip: beautiful Osoyoos in British Columbia’s famous Okanagan. Really?! Feeling bad for myself? Shame on me. So many others around the globe are compromised in very serious ways as a result of these trying times.
That in itself almost makes it worse, like I don’t have any right to my crappy feelings. I should just be grateful for the incredible amount of blessings that I do have. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself; look around; you are in a beautiful place of plenty; get over yourself.”
Alas, I can’t help it. I am thinking about what I had planned on doing before we found ourselves in a pandemic, but now can’t. My son lives in Germany, and this was the year I had planned on spending a month abroad. I have cousins who live in Hungary, who I intended on visiting. I haven’t seen them since 2007. They have both had a child since I saw them last. I was also looking forward to seeing the famous play Hamilton — in London. It is an amazing experience to be able to see a live performance in such a vibrant arts and culture community. Or at least it was, before social distancing. I am sure theatre is hurting immensely right now. The icing on the cake to this pre-planned journey? We had made prior arrangements months ago to go to Munich for the very famous Octoberfest, a once in a lifetime experience. Nope. Cancelled.
All of those experiences were planned around the main feature: seeing my son. These days we Zoom, we talk on the phone, and we text regularly through Signal. All of those things help a lot. Sometimes it seems like I “see” him all of the time through these great technological means, but it doesn’t replace the in-person experience. I love that my son is pursuing his dreams, and living in such an amazing country. I also love it because I know I can see him somewhat regularly, when hopping on a plane is a normal thing. Was a normal thing.
I actually do really well in crisis. Some might even say I thrive on it. However, even this adrenaline junkie has her limits. At my place of business, I am in charge of a large group of therapists, making sure them and their clients are safe. I take this responsibility very serious. Even that duty up until now has seemed to me as “business as usual”. Clean frequently, put up signage, invest in PPE . . . tow the party line like everyone else.
I also post messages regularly about getting outside for your mental health, which I also practice. Much walking, hiking, camping and now skiing as much as possible. It really helps a lot, and there is a lot of research out there to back it up too. That fresh air and vitamin D really helps lift our spirits, mine included. I do this every week, so why this tear fest right now? I miss my son. I miss being normal. I miss human contact outside of my bubble. I hate being worried and being careful. I feel so stifled.
I truly know my circumstances in no way are worse than others. As a matter of fact, I am quite sure that the simple fact that my husband and I are both still employed and making money puts us above many. And we have each other. I know that there are many ways in which we are fortunate.
However today that doesn’t matter. I am upset. I am crying. I am tired — of it.
