When the World Paused - Day 17ish

Super proud of her tall can tower!

Our Stay Home Stay Safe order was extended to May now, and I think most reasonable people are expecting life to look very similiar in June as well. It's been an interesting challenge. I am working on furthering some business decisions as well as time goes on, though I plan to continue to be there for my clients as things continue to shift and change. Adaptation is the name of the game.

As a parent, I am learning so much. I notice the days we play more and focus on chores less, we both end up in peaceful places. I listen to her play pretend with her dolls, and notice that often then are sick or not feeling good and they need the doctor to help them out - The Impossible Girl is working through situations through play. She's constantly asking me to play with her - and I take her up on it even if it's only for a couple minutes before bed. I realize I'm the only one here in person that can be her human connection. That's a vital role. 

Now, if you've known me through any length of time, you know I'm generally the one people want in a crisis. I'm able to compartmentalize, push through, find and act on solutions quickly. This prolonged crisis has put all of that to the test - and The Impossible Girl reminds me what it means to 'hold space' for all the different feelings. 

For example, I may think that the healthiest way to keep my kiddo connected to others is to have her draw pictures for them. Impossible Girl quirk : She NEVER wants to. Because being reminded of people she is missing hurts too bad to draw pictures for them every day.

So today, I made some time and space to 'empty my bucket', as my dad would say. 

My dad used to say that every woman carries around a bucket. Everything around her becomes a droplet in the bucket. Big and small stressors and emotions become water in the bucket. Eventually, the bucket fills up and spills over. It doesn't matter what thing overflows the bucket, but it'll just flow without ceasing if it's allowed to go all the way. So it's important to empty the bucket every once in a while to keep the flood at bay and make room for more.

There are some things about this time that I will never forget - that I pray none of us every forget.

I will never forget where I was or exactly what I was doing when news of the Twin Towers falling on September 11th, 2001. 

I will also never forget where my kid went to school when they were no longer able to go back (probably for the year). 

I will never forget the image of huge refridgerated trucks outside of hospitals in New York - because the morgue in the hospital couldn't house all the bodies anymore. Nearly all of them dying in insolation without family or friends by their bedsides. 

I will never forget the challenges all my friends in the medical front lines are facing without appropriate gear to protect themselves and their families from the dangers breathing in their faces at work every day. I worked in the medical feild for over a decade and have friends and clients who are still working there. I will always root for them.

I will never forget what it's like to have the usual cloud that lingers as military friends and I chat about this new, unseen, undiscriminating enemy on the landscape. 

Today, I took a little while to myself and poured out that bit of fear and rage and greif from the bucket, while sitting on the kitchen floor. I let my mind rage about the unsolvable problems and fully feel the fear and the helplessness.

For a little while, I poured out the bucket a bit.

Lightening the bucket makes room to better see the other things...

Like the soft fluffy fur of a sweet rescue dog who is (annoyingly) constantly trying to lick my face.

Like the basic sage advice and "When one can see no future, all one can do is the next right thing." No matter how small. It could be 'do the laundry' so everyone has clean underwear tomorrow. Or check in on a friend. Do the next thing that feels right. 

Like simple joys - that The Impossible Girl looks forward to snuggling on my arm as she falls asleep, because she feels safe asking you to stay awake so she can sleep. 

Like this wonderful small tribe that checks on us, brings us things as we need them, and it's a network built NOT from my husband's job, but cheifly from my work as a Trainer and a coach. 

Like the new emergency plan in place should I get sick. That gives me a measure of peace (though I still hope it's not something we'll have to ennact).

Like the joy that we are still healthy! That's a win. The kiddo has caught every virus coming down the pike her entire life. And here we are, almost a month into the lock down and she hasn't been sick yet. I'm hopeful it means we're doing things right. (Or lucky... or we have some really tiny awesome gaurdian angels batting away those germies like baseballs). 

Like the fun bits of humor floating around the world right now - 

I did not make this

or this. But my love of horror movies appreciates this.

Like the wonder and amazement of giving/receiving unexpected care packages and playing in the open air.

There are a lot of blogs out there about the financial devastation this is causing. There are a lot of blogs out there about how to make the most of this time. There are blogs about being super productive, bettering your relationship, being in the best shape ever, or how to carve a relipca of Disneyland Park out of a single bar butter.  But this blog? This is all about life.  (Okay, so that last one might have been a but of a stretch, but if you can do that, or find someone who can, point me to that blog!)

And the truth is, some days end on a super productive note where I slide into the covers with nearly all the boxes on my to do list checked! And there are days when many go unchecked because playing took priority. And there are moments where I'm a puddle on the floor with a warm wiggly brindle in my face.

And all of those moments are beautiful and powerful and meaningful. 

Even if we're not sure what day of the week it is sometimes.