I'm almost not sure if I even remember how to properly drive, let alone have any idea how to properly interact, social distance, and function in a public setting.
I will take along my two current security blankets; my dog and my twelve year old son. My husband will not be coming this weekend because he has some other Covid-19 meat crisis business to take care of. Yup, we finally got some toilet paper this week and now there’s a meat shortage, and rumor of some sort of murder hornets. I can’t. I just cannot.
The lake has been our escape, our happy place, our place to rest and heal. Our place to interact and socialize. The lake is my place to rise early and run along the dark sides of the road as the sun slowly begins to evolve and bringing blackness into radiance. It's where I watch that same sun set over the water at the end of the day, as it travels through that same radiance and color back into the darkness of another night.
So many memories there, and it's always been a place I could not wait to return to every spring. The lists, the packing, the countdown of days. And yet ... this spring is different. Very different, and not just for me, but for the entire world.
The world has been in this crazy and completely shut down, yet running wild state of pandemic over a virus called Covid-19. There is so much going on, and not going on, that I honestly have not even allowed myself to really write about it (at least not yet). There are portions of my mind that I have just needed to shut down entirely in effort to just get from one day to the next. I am in a survival state and am fully aware that throughout all of this, my logical mind is not capible of wrapping itself around... itself. I really really want to logically process life right now, but I know that my brain is not able to actually fully process what it's trying and needing to. After about three weeks of losing my sanity every single day, I opened my hands and gave up trying to "understand" "process" "figure it out logically" - because I am not at a point where that is a possibility. And owning that personal reality, has given me some relief from the insanity within (“some” relief from, but not “all" ... i'm still one #hotmessexpress on the inside {and outside} but I'm trying to honestly give myself the grace needed to simply being ok with not being ok, with not understanding, with not knowing, and with not being able to keep my crap straight longer than about a four hour max period of time.)
I've thought about trying to blog my way through this, but simply came to the conclusion that I can't / shouldn't / couldn't / won't. I decided to document all this thus far with photos and saving key memes every day … I’m simply uploading them into my cloud storage each night, and then deleting the majority of it all from my phone. Some day I will go back through all of "those" and “this” and look, and remember, and hopefully process this all more. But not right now, not now, not yet.
We went into isolation and it was cold and snowy out. As we look out the windows, we have slowly witnessed the seasons changing and we have left behind winter and said hello to spring. Outside the world is changing, as it always has since forever. The dirty piles of snow have melted and been replaced with radiant green lawns and trees budding with flowers and new growth. The farmers have plowed and are beginning to plant. And yet, we are all still inside. Inside the same houses, the same walls, the same people (or lack of people) and it’s causing even more heartache and confusion within our hearts and souls.
We long to evolve with the changes going on outside, we long for the normalcy of what a typical spring brings us, we long for something substantial, sustainable, stable, factual, and forward. But we are stuck in some bad dream of a groundhogs day existence day to day.
We don’t know what is right, and what is wrong. We don’t know what we should do, and what we shouldn’t. We don’t know if we need to stay in isolation, or just finally give it up and hope for the best. Who’s right, who’s wrong? Everyone is experiencing this through their own personal lens of reality and beliefs, and we have to work so hard on giving ourselves the grace we so desperately need, and then we need to also kindly extend that same grace to everyone around us. Not one or two, not some or a few… everyone.
Everyone needs to kindly extend grace equally to everyone right now. No hoarding. No hiding. No name calling or snarky online comments. No unkind words or deeds. And yes, I very much know that this is much harder to live out than it is to preach out.
Last week my husband went to the camper and opened it all up by himself. I was not ready, and I did not go. Granted, our son finally had oral surgery that day so I was more than happy to keep him and I home. But the hubs got everything set up and mixed and mingled with everyone else there.
Everyone needs to kindly extend grace equally to everyone right now. No hoarding. No hiding. No name calling or snarky online comments. No unkind words or deeds. And yes, I very much know that this is much harder to live out than it is to preach out.
Last week my husband went to the camper and opened it all up by himself. I was not ready, and I did not go. Granted, our son finally had oral surgery that day so I was more than happy to keep him and I home. But the hubs got everything set up and mixed and mingled with everyone else there.
He’s been leaving the house every day for work this entire time, as have many of our friends that we camp with. I have not. I have chosen to walk on the very far left side with my choices to isolate and not leave the house. So as he walked out the door last week to leave, he turned and asked me to start thinking and processing the fact that hopefully by next weekend I will have come to the mental capacity that I will be able to leave the house and go to the lake with him.
This week I have worked on mentally getting myself there. I’m not all the way there yet #lawdhavemercy no. But, I did start to do some packing.
The thought of packing the car and leaving without our precious Lily dog who passes away in January is so hard. The thought of having to maybe run outside again (maybe even in the dark) causes me unbelievable anxiety. “People-ing" again, letting my son “people" again… It’s all just reduclously emotional for me right now - on both sides of the spectrum. From excitement to fear. From happy too sad. From inside to outside. From alone to public.
Do I come out of the camper? Do I get off my deck? Do I wear my mask? Do I dare walk the dog or run outside?
Honestly, right now I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. And I’m not going to spend any more time thinking about them. I will think about how to pack myself, my son, and the dog to go away. I will think about getting in the car and driving out of town, getting on the highway, merging into oncoming traffic and preparing for the “Welcome to Minnesota” sign forty minutes down the road and the little "bump bump" of the tires on the road when crossing from one state into the next.
I will worry about getting out of the car once we get there. That will be tomorrow. I will deal with that hurtle tomorrow.
It’s one day at a time right now. One day at a time. Actually, as I’ve been replying back to everyone - it’s merely one hour at a time right now. One hour at a time is all I am able to feasibly handle right now.
The thought of packing the car and leaving without our precious Lily dog who passes away in January is so hard. The thought of having to maybe run outside again (maybe even in the dark) causes me unbelievable anxiety. “People-ing" again, letting my son “people" again… It’s all just reduclously emotional for me right now - on both sides of the spectrum. From excitement to fear. From happy too sad. From inside to outside. From alone to public.
Do I come out of the camper? Do I get off my deck? Do I wear my mask? Do I dare walk the dog or run outside?
Honestly, right now I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. And I’m not going to spend any more time thinking about them. I will think about how to pack myself, my son, and the dog to go away. I will think about getting in the car and driving out of town, getting on the highway, merging into oncoming traffic and preparing for the “Welcome to Minnesota” sign forty minutes down the road and the little "bump bump" of the tires on the road when crossing from one state into the next.
I will worry about getting out of the car once we get there. That will be tomorrow. I will deal with that hurtle tomorrow.
It’s one day at a time right now. One day at a time. Actually, as I’ve been replying back to everyone - it’s merely one hour at a time right now. One hour at a time is all I am able to feasibly handle right now.
And with that said... I must say goodnight and go to bed.
