Is This Real Life?
What a weird time.
Are you sheltering at home? Are you trying to find the balance between being comfortable but not wearing your pajamas to dinner? Are you concerned about the lack of preparedness we have to handle this crisis?
Me too. Welcome. This is a safe space.
When my husband, Jason, and I heard Los Angeles was put under a “shelter at home” mandate, I was actually looking forward to the time with our fifteen-month-old son, Arlo. We don’t really let him watch TV unless he has a “fever or a flight” so I saw this as an opportunity to start fun projects and try creative games. I had a bunch of ideas and I got right down to them.
Day One: I set up sticky notes on a wall for him to peel off and put in a box. (That lasted ten minutes.) Day Two: I filled a Ziploc bag with soap and water so he could make mess-free bubbles. (That lasted ten seconds.) Day Three: I poured oatmeal in a bin for him to dig in. (He dumped the oatmeal on the floor and then I panicked because I realized I should be saving it for actual eating.) Day Four: I was on the couch with my head under a pillow as Arlo sat in front of the TV, watching Elmo teach him the letter “K.”
The wheels came off pretty fast.
There are so many things to think and feel during this time. The main one is how badly I wish our family was closer and how worried I am that someone I love will get sick. Jason’s mom, Lynette, lives in Arizona and my parents are back in the Midwest. Being so far away from parents is difficult on normal days but it’s even worse when there’s a global pandemic and you aren’t there to make sure they’re self-isolating and not throwing their sister a birthday party, LYNETTE.
Like the rest of the world, Jason and I are both feeling stressed. Our jobs have slowed and along with finances, I’m worried about questions like, “What does this mean for society?” and “Does that leaf my son picked up have Covid-19 on it? Does that stick? That rock? That puddle he fell in and definitely swallowed some of the water?”
Although everything I’m reading these days centers around global issues, my world has gotten much smaller. All the things I cared so much about a month ago seem to have fallen away. Career milestones don’t currently matter. Getting your kid into the “right” preschool doesn’t matter. Vacations don’t matter. Restaurants don’t matter. Nothing really matters but the people you love.
On a macro level, I know it’s not about what I’m learning. Being able to quarantine like this is a privilege and what it’s really about is doing our best to stop the spread of the virus, to support nurses and doctors, and to help protect each other. But by staying at home to help flatten the curve, it feels like I’m getting back to the basics.
I cook more. I spend more quality time with my son. I laugh with my husband more. I fight with my husband more. I’ve organized shelves and baked cookies. I’ve deep cleaned the house. I spend time, actual real time, thinking about how grateful I am that we’re healthy and have food and shelter and each other. Yesterday, after making my mom’s biscuit recipe and spending the evening finishing a book I’d wanted to read, I realized something surprising.
For the first time in years, I feel engaged in my own life.
Now that my world is less external and more internal, the tangle of anxiety has eased and cleared my vision a bit. (Of course, there’s still the anxiety about a global pandemic but nobody’s perfect.) And in some ways, I can stop and breathe and take pleasure in smaller things. In things I’ve always loved but never thought I had time to do. Currently there’s no pressure to prove anything. I don’t have to strive or yearn or compete. I can just live the life that’s right in front of me, right now.
Last night, Jason and I sat outside and listened to the complete silence of Los Angeles. No cars, no people, no planes. Just the wind blowing through our eucalyptus tree and the sound of our sighs every time we’d remember what a gift this silence was to two people who weren’t raised in a city.
Someday we will all look back and realize what this experience has taught us about psychology, class division, disease, politics and a whole swath of other important issues. But right now, I’m spending most of my time engaging in my life as much as I can. Doing things that make me feel good. That make me feel connected.
That make me feel.
This piece was originally published in The Forum of Fargo-Moorhead. You can find them and me here.
