Once upon a time I felt an innate need to write. It made me feel confident and human, until it didn't. Until a pressure to do it perfect snuffed out the desire for being seen. This little blog made feel seen. And human. Because in my real life I didn't.
My last post was almost 6 years ago, otherwise known as a lifetime. No sense in reconciling what has changed, only to say it has been so much. Too much to document. Where I am now, is so far from where I was, but yet on the outside, it looks relatively the same.
I now have a beautiful 14 year old that I see so much of myself in. I want to protect her, but she does not need it. My middle crazy is blossoming, after a rough few years. She amazes and terrifies me. And my sweet baby has been here for almost a decade. The fire I felt while she was in my belly I now see in her personality.
None are easy. It is hard. In a few short months I will have a high schooler, a junior high, and elementary student. My love and I passed the 25 year mark with little fanfare. We were busy. Too busy to mark it. Until we weren't.
Life recently has taken a strange turn. Today marks the beginning of our 4th week in a state (and nearly Nationwide) quarantine due to the Covid-19 virus. What is old is new again. Hence my desire to revisit this defunct space.
Strange times these are. My brain has had a hard time coming to grips with the state our state is in. We brace for a virus that affects all. There is a paralyzing fear as we look at people we love and wonder if their bodies are strong enough to overcome it, if they should contract it. Daily updates are provided by our governor labeled loving as 'Wine with Dewine'. A governor none of us voted for but are glad we had as he is being internationally recognized for his forethought and preemptive actions that could possibly save thousands.
Thousands. Everyday we watch the death toll climb and are finally being told to brace for the worst. We could be looking at a hundred thousand lost. Our old, our weak, our brave.
My sister is a doc. I am afraid for her. My parents are nearing 80 but feel invincible. I am afraid for them. I am afraid for our financial stability as jobs are being lost by thousands daily and it feels like we underprepared. I fear for lost schooling for our kids as we face no 4th quarter, period. My niece's high school graduation will be cancelled. Another niece's college graduation is pushed back by months. Yet another niece had to push back her wedding by a full year, after the invites had already gone out. No recitals the kids have practiced for all year. No play they were excited to perform. No final swim meets. Softball season. Outdoor soccer. All the busy stuff we dreaded but relished because we could. It's gone. For a season at least. For a brief (but agonizing long) season we are given a gift and prison sentence of time.
My mind reels at this. 'If only I had time...' is now a mocking statement because it's all we are left with.
With the help of my new anti depressant and supplemental anxiety med, I feel like I need to document this journey however long it lasts. Why? Because it feels really fucking important. Super significant. And if it's one thing I've learned through rereading this abandoned blog is that even the realest shit gets smoothed over and painted glossy by time. One day I believe I will want to visit this moment and look at it from every angle (because right now I only blearily look ahead to my next day and the mind numbing details it encompasses).
Welcome to the shitshow lovingly known as 2020.
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