Swirling Thoughts

There are so many words swirling around in my head. I don’t even know what to say or where to start. A part of me wants me to just shut the fuck up and stop crying and complaining and worrying. I so want to be normal. I so want to just live my life like everyone else seems to be doing. But when I do, the anxiety crushes around me and I can’t function. Sounds melodramatic. I know. But I live it. It feels so heavy. I know there are so many other things that could be worse. I get that. I get that I should count my blessings. But just because it could be worse doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to feel how I feel.

These feelings are so intense. They feel so big. Every fucking decision feels weighted. What decision is right. What is wrong. Every decision feels like it can be argued both ways. Thank you law school. I know how to evaluate every side of anything and I wish some days that I didn’t have that “skill”. I wish I could just do. Just live and whatever happens, happens.

But I don’t work like that. My mind won’t just ignore the possibilities. Lord knows I wish it would. I wish I could just go to dinner in a restaurant with friends and not freak the fuck out about who might be asymptomatic and what it might do to me and who I might then give it to and what it will do to them. It’s not just about getting the virus. I don’t want the virus. But that’s not the fixation. The thoughts swirl around the dominos. What one decision I make could do to everyone around me. And I can’t even enjoy doing anything with this swirl of thoughts in my head. I’m there in body but my mind is a million miles away. Which it already is many times thanks to my lovely sidekick called anxiety. So add COVID anxiety on top of regular anxiety and I prefer isolation in my own house.

But I miss people. Oh my dear word I miss hugs. Big hugs. The kind that last too long. The small hugs to say hello. The hugs that say thank you. The awkward hugs when the person you’re hugging isn’t sure they’re a hugger, but you’ve already gone in. The crying hugs. The “you’re not alone” hugs. I miss the hugs.

The risk tolerance of everyone is so varied and that has proved to be a factor in this whole thing that I didn’t anticipate. I don’t begrudge anyone their own choices. You do you. But this is affecting life and relationships and it is making a hard situation even harder. I don’t think any of us should have to justify how we feel or what we do, but I know my decisions and my feelings don’t always add up for others. Why some things I’m comfortable with (my kids in school) but basically anything else is off the table right now. No one is straight up asking, but it feels heavy. It feels hard. It feels like I’m doing it wrong. I feel like I’m disappointing people I love. And I never want to be a source of disappointment or sadness or hurt to someone. And yet, this fucking pandemic is making us all make hard decisions. That aren’t always understood.

I feel lonely. Which is insane because I live in a house with four other people, all of whom are very loud. Yet here I sit in tears. In deep deep sadness.

And I don’t even know if I’ll share these words because I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want these words to appear as though they’re directed at anyone for anything, because they’re not. I don’t want to seem whiney. I don’t want to complain about something literally everyone on the planet is affected by right now. But I know others feel this on some level. Not everyone, but someone. And if this could connect with one person, it’s always worth sharing.

I’ve heard some say we can’t live in fear and I keep thinking on these words. Don’t live in fear. I don’t feel like I’m living in fear. I feel like I’m trying to do what is best for my mental health and for my family. I don’t know what this virus would do to my daughter who has only one good, fully functioning kidney. Does that fact living in the back of my head mean I am living in fear? Does my low risk tolerance for this virus mean I am living in fear? Does my desire to wear a mask and stay socially distanced mean I am living in fear? I guess in some people’s eyes it does. And at the end of the day I can’t care what people think.

This is a hard fucking year. This is all hard. For everyone. Yes, for some it is way harder than others. I get that. But it’s hard. We are all doing the best we can with the information we currently have. I have to remember that. I have to believe in myself and my ability to keep weathering this storm in MY way. For my mental health. So that I can be the best mom and wife I can be given the circumstances.

I sometimes wish I didn’t feel this urge to always put my feelings to paper. And then to put the paper to the public. Why can’t I just write in a journal and be done with it. I don’t actually know the answer to that. There’s something about connection that draws me to sharing the hard. (And the good.) I know that there are bright days ahead. And there is so much brightness in each day currently. I sometimes hit post and get a call from my mom or dad asking me if I’m OK. Saying they’re worried about me based on whatever I’ve written. But there is catharsis in these words. In getting the feelings out.

I am ok. Some days I’m even thriving. Actually, in some areas of life I’m thriving. I’m kicking this shit out of this holiday season for my kids. I’m committed to making this magical for them. I mean, surely I’m fucking that up somehow, but they are digging the elf and his daily advent tasks. And their smiles are life giving these days.

If I focus on what is right in front of me, I’m fine. I’m good even. But it’s when I start panning out and having to interact with the rest of the world that my insecurities come out. My fears that I’m doing this wrong. The little voice that says, “maybe you ARE overreacting.” And I’m brought back to one of my favorite quotes: comparison is the thief of joy.  Who knew it’d hold true when it comes to how we handle a pandemic.

We are going to be ok. We can do hard things. We can give ourselves grace in the process. And our maps during this time can be different. Kindness and love and empathy can go a long way right now.

We are all in this together. Even if we are doing it different.

I’m sending everyone love.