Covid

I'm just finishing day 6 with Covid. It really is a relentless beast. People keep asking me about my symptoms, and I suppose they are different for everyone. I have not had trouble breathing or coughing or sore throat. I honestly thought I was getting a sinus infection, but then the fevers came and never went away. It felt like the fevers and body aches located the weakest areas of my body and took hold of them. At one point I texted a few of the friends I knew still prayed and begged them to pray for me. I went 5 hours one day without a break in the fever; I just stayed in my bed and cried. It hurt really bad, and I have a fairy high pain tolerance. 

I understand why people have died from this, especially if their lungs aren't strong. It weakens your body, ,and then your mind. 

And it just lingers until it doesn't. I haven't had a fever all day. I still have crazy pressure over my eyes so I'm always rubbing my forehead and pushing on it to find any release. I started having nausea yesterday, so even though I can't taste or smell food, eating it makes me nauseated. I told Tim it's reminding me of the early days of pregnancy. 

So I guess we'll see what the next few days bring. I am so tired and wish I could say I've been reading a lot, but I haven't. For three days I couldn't do anything but rotate in bed, and then when I started feeling better Tim started feeling worse. 

The one thing I keep telling myself daily is to be so grateful for this body that is able to fight something that has truly changed the world. The human body is a marvel. I am grateful for mine and am reminded to be ever vigilant as a steward over it. 

broken

I have so many unposted drafts on this blog. It actually makes me laugh to see them. To see the many, many times I tried to get out the feelings inside only to find myself lacking the words. I think people think 2020 was the worst year, and in so many ways it was awful. It plunged us into a deep, complicated political and medical abyss that lingers today, many months after it began. But 2020 was actually okay for us. We cocooned ourselves inside our house. We traveled, but we stayed away from people while still staying closely linked. As a family we grew tighter. And I loved it. 

I homeschooled the kids and loved being with them. I'd watch the lights go on as they learned new things and excel at different subjects. We learned so much together. It was a joy in my life. 

Until it wasn't. 

Something radically changed during the final month of homeschool; the kids were more irritable, less teachable. I was stretched in a million directions. It wasn't fun anymore. And then I snapped. On what was not supposed to be our last day of school but ended up being our last day of school, I asked the kids to write a little bit about what they liked and disliked about the year. I guess in my mind I had built up our year so much that I didn't think I would see much criticism, and I was honestly so stretched that I didn't even realize how fragile I was before I read the dumb essays. 

The criticism broke me. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it did. Of course there are a number of other factors that played into the complete self-implosion that happened that day, but that was the trigger. I lost my ever loving mind on the kids and canceled school. It was over. I was over. I needed space, but I could not get space. Stopping school did not mean I'd be alone. In fact, it meant now the kids would just blankly stare at me daily because they wanted to know the plans for every day of "summer." I felt suffocated and sick all the time. My mind was reeling, and yet, I could not be alone because I still had all these little people looking to me to be okay. 

I have felt broken since May. I lost so much confidence that day. I can't even explain it. I've talked to Tim, my friends, my new therapist, my family, etc., and I can't really explain why I broke that day. I just felt out of control and have felt that way ever since. I don't blow up like I did that day, but I just feel an emptiness that I can't fill. And I hurt so much. Sometimes I turn the shower water so hot that it burns my skin just enough to make me feel something because I don't feel anything. What a strange thing. And writing it out just makes me feel more ashamed that I am still here--in this place--all these months later, but I am. I am still here. 

I don't really know how to put myself together. I keep pretending, but that is becoming tiresome. I am just aching to break free from this thick fog and fly away for a bit, but I know I cannot fly far. It's all so overwhelming, and tonight I feel the pain a little more intensely, so I thought perhaps I should write and let the tears fall where they will and maybe I can just be honest with people and myself for a minute and say, I am not well. I am see through. I need space to breathe. 

I wonder how many other people feel like this from time to time but don't say anything. Well, here I am saying something. I am as real as I have always been. And life is freaking hard right now. I am alive, but I am not really living. And I just want this chapter to end. It needs to end. 

2021

 2021. It's finally here. There are moments when I feel like 2020 lasted forever because there were days that did last forever (ahem...all of March through May), but then somehow Christmas was upon us before I knew it, and we rang in the new year with all the makeshift festivities we could come up with. 

I realize that 2020 was a hard year for most people--probably all people in one way or another. Coronavirus threw everyone into the 4th quarter of a football game where both sides were losing and no one was leading them. Game plans were made on an individual level, which caused people to disagree a lot because their plans differed from each other. Politics were a disaster. I don't even have anything to say about it except the election ended months ago, and some people are still flying the losing team's flag high as if the results may still change. It feels a little strange. Social injustice was very present, which caused so many to really examine who they were and who they needed to become to make the world a better place. And grief. It hit so many across the globe, myself included. Losing someone during this past year was so hard because nothing could be done. We couldn't even be by their sides when they died. It all felt heavy and painful. 

And yet, amidst the pain, there was so much light and so much hope. I saw it in grocery stores, in hospitals, in music, in writing and in so many of us. 

I have no idea what 2021 will bring. I keep telling myself it can't be worse than 2020, but then January 6th happened, and chaos flooded the capitol. I don't have much to say on the matter because I don't have enough information, and I'm still processing it in my mind. However, that was not a good start. But I believe in do-overs, and more than do-overs, I believe there are good people everywhere on all sides of the belief spectrum, trying to do the right thing and trying to love each other. So there's that. I am hopeful that the world will see a calming effect with the dispersement of the vaccine. And I am hopeful that here in the US we will see a peaceful--albeit awkward no doubt--transition of presidential power. 

Personally, I feel hopeful for 2021. I hope that we will be able to hike outdoors or smile again without masks, although I now have a bit of anxiety about being around strangers without one, so there's that. I'll have to get over that somehow. I hope that I can resume our normal service endeavors. 2020 was really hard on me because I couldn't serve people normally or naturally. I couldn't help people like I normally would've out of fear that they might be afraid of me. And the fact that I would pause before helping someone made me feel so sad. I hope that my kids will resume school in the fall. While homeschooling has been the best personal option for us this year, it is not my kids' ideal option. They miss their friends and routines terribly. I hope to cultivate more talents. And I hope to create more boundaries. I need boundaries.

I recently listened to a woman talk about creating more fulfilling schedules. She said she often had clients complain about not having enough time, to which she always replies, "No, you have enough time. You have the same amount of time as everyone else. You have your priorities misaligned." I am guilty of complaining of not enough time, and usually people excuse me because they say things like, "We know you have a lot going on," or "We know you are busy with the kids." True. I do have a lot going on. I really do. But is it too much to play a card game with Birdie when she asks me 5 times? Or too much to write a birthday card to a distant family member or friend? Or is it too much to listen to Elle sing me a song for the hundredth time?

I stretched myself too thin this fall. I decided to homeschool, which like I already said has been an incredible experience 80% of the time. I can never buy back these years with my kids, so the fact that I'm just able to be with them and read or write with them is something I love so much. You cannot even know. But in addition to homeschool, I also tried to sub at the preschool I worked at last year every week. I also started focusing on a creative outlet--photography, which has been so fulfilling in many ways, but also takes a lot of time and focus. I've continued working as a copy editor all the while, and starting in December I started to burst at my invisible seams. I started collapsing mentally and emotionally, shutting myself in and the world out. I faked it in front of people because I am who I am, and I have a hard time admitting I'm struggling, but by the end of 2020, I felt so weak. 

So my goal this year is to create appropriate boundaries for myself and my family so I can be more effective as a woman, a wife and a mother. The most immediate goal I made for myself is to not work on Sunday. I quiver at this goal because I have depended so much on my Sundays since I started my copy editing job, but I need a day where I don't work. I need a day where I can just close my brain to everything else and be alone or with my family, not feeling guilty for getting other things done. I am hopeful that I can do this.

So there you have it. I am a 37-year-old mom admitting to the fact that I take on too much and take too little care of myself. I am not as strong as people like to believe. I am a work of art to be sure, but that work of art is still very much in progress, and I am sure I frustrate the artist more often than not. I am hopeful that this year I can put back some pieces of my life; I say some because I like that some pieces were tossed aside, but I do hope I can put back some parts of normal life. Mostly I hope this year that I can be kinder to myself and that I will forgive myself for the mistakes I will surely make. I have the hardest time with that. But that's life, and that's where I am right now. 

Enjoying it.

 I read a quote from Kurt Vonnegut today. It hit me with a lightning bolt sensation, causing me to stand very still and reflect the simplicity of what he was saying. He said:

"When I was 15, I spent a month working on an archeological dig. I was talking to one of the archeologists one day during our lunch break and he asked those kinds of 'getting to know you' questions you ask young people: Do you play sports? What's your favorite subject? And I told him, no I don't play any sports. I do theater, I'm in choir, I play the violin and piano, I used to take art classes. 

"And he went, Wow! That's amazing! And I said, 'Oh no, but I'm not good at any of them.'

"And he said something then that I will never forget and which absolutely blew my mind because no one had ever said anything like it to me before: 'I don't think being good at things is the point of doing them. I think you've got all these wonderful experiences with different skills, and that all teaches you things and makes you an interesting person, no matter how well you do them.'

"And that honestly changed my life. Because I went from a failure, someone who hadn't been talented enough at anything to excel, to someone who did things because I enjoyed them. I had been raised in such an achievement-oriented environment, so inundated with the myth of Talent, that I thought it was only worth doing things if you could 'win' at them."

Reread that. Let it sink in. 

How many things have you given up on because you tried a few times and probably failed a few times? I'm not referring to only sports and exercise here. This is a metaphor for life. 

We are a very success-driven society. Be the best or you don't matter--no one actually says this out loud, but they express it in different ways. I think of all the things I've started, such as this blog, which I loved for so many years, but because of time and lack of writing inspiration, I felt like I let it down and so I basically closed up shop, only popping in from time to time to appease family members. But I loved writing! And it shouldn't matter if a blog post is deep or shallow, what matters is that something is written.

I think about other interests I've ditched throughout my life, throwing them into the basket of "well, no one really noticed I was good at that, so I better try something new." And tossing those interests aside really did make me feel like a failure, not the actual interest itself, but the act of tossing it aside. Like Janine-you gave up on yourself. You do it all the time. You're pretty lame. 

But I'm not lame (well, Mya might tell you otherwise). I'm not a failure.

Recently I started learning more about photography, and I have absolutely loved the education behind the lens and the camera. I have also loved being with different families, spending time with them for a few minutes and laughing with them. I'm posting bits and pieces of my photography journey, and while it's new and exciting, it's also completely terrifying because I feel like a fraud in so many ways. Like why are you even trying to do this?!! I don't understand or have a drive to take part in the social media aspect of networking, but I know that if I want to branch out into other things, I need to, but doing it scares me. And being scared makes me think of failure. And I don't want to fail at this. I just want to keep loving this new piece of me that brings color into my life that I've missed. 

Writing used to bring so much color to my life, but I stopped writing for some reason (5 kids probably). I miss writing. So after reading this quote today I reminded myself what my friend Ashley said, "Let this (photography) be your hobby. It doesn't have to be your job. Everyone enjoys hobbies; not many enjoy their jobs." So this will be my hobby, and I will continue to enjoy it without the pressure of failing or succeeding. 

Choose to see the best in others

It's November 1st, and it's snowing. Yesterday the kids canvassed the neighborhood trick or treating in their short sleeve shirts. Weather is strange. I often think the weather and seasons are good parallels to life.  Life can shift in an instant, and it often does. And that shift either brings your life extra warmth or a touch of iciness. I don't know that I ever thought too much about fall as a child or teen, but it has become one of my favorite seasons, even if it does bring that added element of fear that winter is just around the corner.

The bright red, yellow and orange leaves remind me that everything has its time to shine. Leaves do a necessary job in the summer, shading us from the blazing heat and sun. No one really talks about green leaves, but boy do we need them and appreciate them too little. But it's the moment they change that we remember them and smile at them and feel a little fluttering inside thinking about how grand and gorgeous the world is. How creative the ultimate creator was and is. 

Soon the leaves will be gone, and we will be reminded once more that all things in life have an end. The winter and the grayness will drag on, and we will dream of color and sunshine, but even in the winter we can still see beauty in the swaying branches and peeling tree trunks if we look.

Life is much more about these cycling seasons than it is about all the political and social nonsense that is happening in the world. This is an election year. I didn't think it was possible, but it actually feels like an uglier election year than four years ago. The feeling in the air is thick with mistrust, disinterest and ego. Each side is talking too much and listening too little, and for those of us in the middle, we feel almost embarrassed and afraid to speak up or interject our feelings. I'm ready for November 3rd to be over because I'm tired of the meanness from both sides. 

Tim recently overheard the kids talking rudely about the candidates, and he reminded them (and me later that night) that no matter what people deserve respect--a word that has been sort of lost in society, and perhaps rightly so, but can't we bring respect back? Can't we teach it by living it? I talked to the girls yesterday and told them that no matter how people are portrayed on the news or on commercials, it is not our job to be mean about them. We can disagree and dislike who they are and what they stand for, but we don't need to spread it further. We can just respect them by voting for what we feel is right. Nothing more is needed. They understood, and I realized I needed to be a little better. 

November 4th is going to come, and I am going to get up in the morning and teach a full day of school. I'm going to hug my kids. I'm going to love my neighbor. I'm going to enjoy the remaining leaves on the trees. I'm going to continue to plan for my future. I'm going to hope for women in the world that society will see us for what we are. I'm going to continue to do everything I already am doing because an election can't change that.

There are more things in the world that should bring us together--such as all things pumpkin and the beauty of changing leaves--than things that pull us apart. 2020 has been a bleak year, and even in the midst of it, new conversations have been started. People have volunteered countless hours of service during the pandemic. I've seen more good than bad. People have risen to the challenges.

Please remember that in being true to yourself and your vote that it doesn't justify meanness to others. Choose to see the best in others, and they will often surprise you. I choose to see the best in fall rather than quaking at the thought of winter around the corner, and it continues to surprise me and put a smile on my face.

time

Time is fairly irrelevant at this point in my life. The days come and go without me even really noticing. I have been gone so long from the blog that I didn't recognize the new format on blogger. Does anyone actually use blogger anymore? I doubt it. I don't even think anyone but my dad checks my blog these days, but he has been begging for a post, so here is something. 

Does anyone really know what to say about 2020? I will probably look back at this year with wonder and awe because it has been so hard on the world and yet so incredibly good to our family, which is an interesting thing to contemplate. It's not as if the economy tanking didn't hit our home like it did for countless other homes. Tim took a pay cut, and I not only lost my job at the preschool but have been given less hours as an editor. However, I haven't looked at wealth as only related to money in years, and in doing so, I have felt very rich this year. 

On March 19th of this year, I sanitized all the toys and touchable items in my classroom for what I then thought was a bit of an overkill measure for something that would surely blow over quickly. I left my snacks and trinkets in a drawer in the classroom and walked away from the preschool expecting to see my coworkers again on Monday. I didn't see them again for 6 weeks. In fact, I didn't really see anyone except neighbors through windows for 6 weeks. My social world suddenly lost all its air, but my family world doubled in size. I spent countless hours working with my kids to accomplish school tasks and create new/different art projects to pass the would-be lonely hours. My children happily and willingly filled my social holes with every concert, play, circus, dance recital, etc. known to mankind. We grew incredibly close. 

Foolishly I believed 6 weeks would be the end of what still felt like an upside down world, but 6 weeks turned into 3 months, then 4 and now 7 months. We have not been 100% isolated as we were those first 6 weeks, but we are certainly still quarantined from much of the world. Our world largely consists of our home, our street, Zoom bookclub meetings, the occasional grocery store run or most recently, field trip Fridays. We have become the definition of home bodies. And it's mostly been amazing. Sure we have our days or moments (I say nearly everyday that yelling or name calling is not acceptable in the house), but in all honesty, our family is thriving. 

We read together (so far we've tackled The Little Prince, Stargirl, The Little Prince, and The Count of Monte Cristo), dine together, learn/teach together, play together, watch television together, sing to Taylor Swift's new album together, and say prayers together. It is the simplest of lives, but it is a preferable one. 

I made the decision to homeschool days before public school was to start. To no fault of our district, somehow it was leaked to the media that the health department was considering delaying the start of school. Many schools saw the news and closed their districts; ours did not, but the quick reversal of events made me rethink my ideas for school. You should know that virtual learning, in my opinion, is a joke and did not work for my kids. I have never been, nor will I ever be, an advocate of sitting my kids in front of a screen for hours a day. So the idea of a delayed and virtual start had me literally spinning. My stomach was in knots. The moment I decided for myself that I would homeschool, I immediately felt peace. I also felt a huge sense of urgency to then research the 1 million homeschool options that have become available since Covid. To put it directly, homeschool curriculum is a rabbit hole. It is not for the faint of heart. 

I came up with a plan, which mostly consisted of me writing my own curriculum based on Indiana's core standards, and I have been teaching my own thing every day for the last 7 weeks. It has been hard, exciting, fun, and tiring. I am normally so tired at night that I almost fall asleep typing on my computer. You cannot know how much effort I am putting in to this just so the kids are engaged and happy with our choice to stay home. The effort often feels unnoticed, but there are glimmers of light that shine through when the kids are smiling and laughing and saying things like, "We never do stuff like this at school."

Do they miss their school? Yes. Genevieve probably misses it the most, followed closely by Elle. Homeschool has actually been a huge blessing for Mya. She was already struggling on a personal level because a lack of friendship, so she has really grown at home. I see her happier and calmer. Do they miss their friends? Yes, but I have done my best to organize playdates with their closest friends. They see them usually once a week or at least every other weeks. Organizing playdates makes my head hurt, but I do it for them. Do they miss the world? Yes. Yesterday I stopped at a park and told the kids they could get out and play. Timmy responded enthusiastically, "For real life mom?! We can play and touch the park?! They haven't been allowed at parks since March, so it was a real treat to play on slides and teeter-totters. It's the little things I guess. 

We all miss the simplicity of going places without the stress of making sure everyone has a mask. Masks are not our favorite accessory, but we wear them because we believe in always doing our part, even if we don't really understand our part. We miss the easiness of going to museums and learning places. Everything seems to take so much more time and effort. We are patiently waiting for things to go somewhat back to normal--whatever that means. 

I think the thing we all miss the most is seeing people smile. I've taught my kids to "smize," or smile with their eyes. We miss it so much. Smiling will never feel brighter and happier than the day we can do so without a mask. 

I guess the thing I hope people are learning most during this strange year that has challenged every human in one way or another is that we need each other. We need to constantly look out and look up. We need to put our phones down more and be more present for the ones around us. So many people have lost someone or something because of Covid. Those things weigh heavy on our hearts. But we can do so much with what and who we still have. I hope we are taking advantage of that. 

Summer moments

We're three weeks into what feels like the eternal summer at this point, and I feel oddly calm about where I am and where my kids are at this point. We've mostly fallen into a rhythm that will shift as the days pass, but the rhythm is peaceful and happy. Most days the kids can be found playing house, building Lego cities or swimming in the lake. I can be found washing a never-ending pile of laundry, making lunches, helping build towers, taking walks and listening to music whenever I can. Music is life. It fills all the empty corners of our house like words fill the empty spaces in my brain. 

I've read books too this summer, which is new. After reading Untamed, I decided I needed to put myself first occasionally. My best friend in Arizona nudged me in the right directions when she asked what I'd like for breakfast when I visited, and I mentioned anything would be fine because I was used to eating the crusts of my kids' toast. Shaking her head, she taught me to demand more for myself. The book also taught me that. So I came home from my grandpa's funeral weekend thinking how I could do more for myself while still doing things for the kids. I made a list: make a decent breakfast everyday, read a little everyday, and get back to journal writing (which I haven't done yet). 

I look forward to 5pm more than I have since Peoria. The click-click of Tim's shoe heel is one of my favorite sounds in the world. I wait for it. Can I take a moment and say how grateful I am for him--he is my person in life. I look at him and I look at myself, and I think gosh we're growing up. We're growing into each other in the healthier way. He nudges me to do my thing while reveling in my successes and curiosities. And I try to nudge him to do more things he likes, but he continues to like me the most so he does what he can to help me. He's done more than his share of dishes and lawn mowing this summer with my finger being broken, and his help lifts me. I love him, and I'm grateful for everyday with him. 

Summer moments feel slow. At the moment that it isn't too bad. Ask me again in July.