New Pathways

Thoughtful support, encouragement & inspiration...

for Women

Pandemic Failure

I have a confession to make.  As much as I would like to be a rock star in this pandemic, I’m more like a karaoke failure.  I have made the lists and goals of all that should and could be accomplished with this pause in the world as we know it.  The crumpled papers mock me in their unfinished pile of good intentions.

Instead, my nights have been filled with restless sleep, awakening as tired as I was before crawling into bed.  My days are numbed with mindless non-activity punctuated by care taking and socializing of my elderly mother and my husband who developed medical challenges six weeks into lockdown.

Books are strewn unread from lack of concentration, puzzles befuddle my anxious mind, paints are brought but unopened, taunting me with their presence.

I scroll through social media and am depressed by the high seeming productivity of the world, while I cocoon in my protective bubble awaiting permission to re-engage in my previous life that never comes.

The news fills my heart with sorrow and dread.  Even though I have limited my access after the early days of constant news coverage, it still plays on a despair loop in my head.  Always an anxious personality, my coping skills of “doing more” to distract my overactive brain are not available at this time.  Anxiety tightens my back making walking hard.  I do not want to risk exposing non-family members to infection so I stay home as much as possible.  My brief forays for groceries are not lingering, wandering shopping trips of enjoyment, but rather quick, purposeful, short missions to gather supplies.

As the world starts to tentatively stick its head out of the turtle shell of lockdown, I am having to really search my soul for ways to push myself to re engage safely, both physical and mentally.

Breathe…All is well…one moment at a time.  I am trying to warm up an engine that has been idling for weeks.  The metaphoric carbon dioxide has left my brain fuzzy and desperate for oxygen.  Inch by inch I open the garage door breathing “All is well”.  Like a fearful child, I reassure myself that the world is still a beautiful place – if only I will see it.

Oprah says that fear and hope cannot occupy the same space.  Like a recovering addict, I am choosing just for today.  Today, I choose hope.

Sending virtual hugs,

Deanna

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