The Truth Shall Set You Free. Or Make You Feel Like a Complete Lunatic
A reflection on embracing — or at least acknowledging — the person I’ve become since COVID
It sounds like a beer running for President. Too bad it wasn’t, because it totally would’ve gotten my vote.
Instead, it’s a slogan that represents the past year of my life. Of all of our lives.
When March of last year dropped its nuclear bomb, I just assumed the pandemic would end within a matter of months. I never imagined the world would be ringing in 2021, still socially distanced, still wearing masks.
In retrospect, 2020 taught me a lot about myself. Forced into confinement with a husband and three kids, barely leaving the house, and basically being out of touch with the outside world, I discovered things about myself. Parts of myself that may have always been present, but I never took the time to acknowledge. Most likely, quarantine just caused these traits to manifest themselves, but either way, this is who I am…at least until the world returns to normal.
Bathing has lost importance. Don’t get me wrong, I still cleanse daily. But sleeping in and blindly hitting the absolute latest snooze button possible takes priority over a morning shower. Last night’s pajamas equal today’s work attire. Yesterday’s makeup equals today’s makeup.
That last part was totally a joke. I no longer wear makeup.
Hair accessories have gone MIA in my messy-bun. It’s a curly, knappy mess. Barrettes and bobby pins have literally gotten lost and long forgotten until running my fingers through my hair while washing it. I finally got six inches cut off, just to force myself into wearing my hair down.
I’m mean on purpose. That’s right, I said it. Sometimes, I just want to be a total bitch, specifically to my husband. More specifically, to my husband early in the morning before my first of many cups of coffee.
Maybe it’s too much time spent together. Or my resentment over him not helping out enough with three kids distance-learning from home while I’m trying to work. Perhaps I just need someone to take my stress out on.
Whatever the reason, I do it. And it feels good. And I’m okay with that.
I scream at my kids. A lot. And then suffer from screamer’s remorse. Today, my 5-year-old literally slithered like a snake from upright position in his chair, onto the floor, all because he didn’t want to participate in his Google Meeting. His teacher and classmates were all spectators of this act of slithering.
He put a cardboard Amazon Prime box on his head and spent 30 minutes running back and forth between the living room past my office, banging his box head against the front door, then collapsing onto the floor in giggles. I was in the middle of a Microsoft Teams meeting with 200+ colleagues at the time.
I considered slithering from my chair onto the floor.
I completely lost it, and I’m fairly certain my eyeballs literally popped out of my head like a crazed cartoon character.
Later in the evening, during a moment of my son being sweet as molasses, I came close to tears over my behavior from earlier in the day. I went to hug him and offer an apology.
Stop it, bro! You’re gonna kill me in my game!
Yeah, I’ll probably be a screamer again tomorrow.
I’ve become hairier. I’m pretty sure one of the side effects of COVID-19 is an increase in leg hair, and the rate of speed at which it grows. Ever since testing positive in September, I swear I have a daily leg beard, even if I just shaved the day before.
I used to tweeze my brows, and pluck random facial hairs that I would notice while applying makeup. With makeup application obsolete, these hairs now go unnoticed.
This morning, face cradled in hands while staring at my computer in desperation at the sheer volume of work emails demanding replies, I felt it.
What the eff?
A weird little whisker jutting out of my chin. Great. So on top of everything else, apparently now I’m turning into a man.
I’ve decided that I don’t really like cats. Three months after the divorce from my girls' dad, I got a kitten from a coworker.
She crawled into the dryer and pissed on my clothes. She puked in every room that was carpeted. She climbed walls, then clawed them the entire journey down to the floor.
After making her an outside cat, she disappeared for six weeks. But then returned. I decided then and there that her main purpose in life was to torment me, because she recognized that I’m not a cat person.
In our new house, she leaves decapitated mice bodies in the garage. I find their heads on the front porch. I feel she’s channeling her inner Luca Brasi, and I’m afraid. Very afraid.
It’s past midnight on a Thursday night. 2021. I’m awake. I just finished off some leftover egg roll mixture in the refrigerator to make room for groceries that I had delivered. They were delivered because I’m too lazy to step foot inside Kroger. I’m tempted to eat the leftover spaghetti. I resist the urge to give in to temptation, for the sole purpose of not wanting to wash the dish that the spaghetti is in.
Yep...this is who I am.