I have put off writing this because I don’t know where to start. Looking back over the past week leaves me overwhelmed and moody. I know a lot of us had hopes that the flip of the calendar year would bring relief, and, I suppose, it’s possible that I had unacknowledged expectations, but this past week felt like a month to me.
I mean, Monday and Tuesday were okay but Wednesday? Well, Wednesday made me feel as if this might be a long dark winter.
Wednesday showed me that we have to stop a new normal that cannot be allowed. Suddenly, all the hate speech and differences in opinions that had taken place online were suddenly taking place in Washington D.C. on live TV. All the heated exchanges, the polarized moral convictions, the racism, the hate, the anger … every ugly and vile thing that had been gathering in the faults of our nation had come to a festering head, and there’s not a Band Aid in the world big enough to hide it.
At the beginning of the week, our local school district had released their new reentry plan. This new plan is a lot different than what we’ve had since August. It caused frustration, anger, and feelings of being overwhelmed. As if that wasn’t enough to think about, our nation watches as all Hell breaks loose on Wednesday.
10 Months
And, as if that wasn’t enough, we’ve been struggling out here, dealing with hunger and job loss and rent and child care and health and safety and … sometimes it’s not one thing that causes people to react but a lot of things, especially when they’re flying at your head at the same time. We have been in COVID-19 land since March – 10 months – and we’re growing weary. We might not want to admit it, but we’re fatigued.
I don’t know anyone right now who is claiming to have a fantastic life. Sure, there are fleeting moments, right? But I don’t know anyone who is living their best life. We’re tired of being in the house. We’re tired from not being able to go places and do things. We’re tired of Zoom. We’re tired of working from home, from wearing masks, from stressing about getting through the day-to-day, and the last thing we need right now is one more big decision about something so important that we don’t trust will be the best thing because we don’t know what tomorrow is going to look like, who’s going to get sick or die, or when this is going to end.
Sometimes, we just need to take a minute. With that said, I’m stepping away from my norm right now because I need to stop thinking about all the things I have to think about, and I’m going to tell you a story instead.
My youngest daughter has a hamster. He’s a teddy bear hamster with a ton of strawberry blonde fur. I guess as far as hamsters go, he’s exceptionally cute, but I’m not a real fan of rodents. In fact, rodents terrify me. On the other hand, I love dogs, especially big dogs, and we have recently rescued one. He’s been a great addition to our family, but he expresses a great interest in the hamster. Such a great interest, in fact, that the hamster was moved to my room because the dog kept trying to “play” with it.
Ponytail Pull
I had worked long hours on Thursday, the day after Woeful Wednesday, and was exhausted. In bed, I was in that weird state of consciousness where I was half awake and half asleep when I felt something pulling my ponytail. I didn’t freak out because I thought it was my cat. I told her to stop and rearranged my ponytail. And then something moved it back.
I said my cat’s name and when I sat up, she was at the foot of my bed, on her belly with her butt wiggling, ready to attack. And then I freaked out. I moved my head and something grabbed my hair again. I yelled, the cat meowed, and I jumped out of bed, screaming at the top of my lungs for my oldest child (Yeah, I don’t know why either).
I was terrified. Hands shaking, voice quivering, heart ready to explode, I ran across the room to the light where I froze, paralyzed. What if I didn’t want to know what pulled my hair? My daughter hadn’t arrived to rescue me, and I felt ridiculous, standing there paralyzed with fear, almost afraid to open my eyes, but I took a deep breath and turned on the light.
And there it was, sitting on my pillow, cute nose wiggling … the hamster.
Here’s to a week of no irrational fears and stepping away for a minute.
Onward,
Amy Jo
