Moving On

Anyone else feel like they're on a hamster wheel right now?  Like you're working really hard to get somewhere but the scenery hasn't changed a bit? 

I remember talking to a friend via messenger back in March or April and talking about three months from that point and thinking this would all be over.  It's been almost 2 months since that future we were dreaming of came and went and there's no real end in sight without a vaccine that may or may not be available within the year, and even if it is available, to whom?  How safe?  How effective?  

In the meantime, we're all trying to fit ourselves into a new normal without really knowing what the new normal is yet.  Though we've all had our moments over the past several months, I think our nerves are fraying and the walls are wearing thin.  Despite the separation and isolation, we're really starting to see some people for who they really are.  We just aren't as polite as we should be because it's just really hard to deal with constantly trying strike a balance when the scales keep moving.

I think we'd all like to be able to move on with our lives, but it's difficult to know how to do that without knowing what the new normal is really going to look like.  Many of us had set the ball rolling on major life plans that had to be put on hold when the world shut down and it's still not clear if we can pick up where we left off or if we have to abandon that ship and start building a new one out of what materials we can find lying around.  

I'm being deliberately vague, but that's because every story is different and also because energy is scarce to lay it all out.  But we're all waiting and seeing.  For the border to open.  For a vaccine. For a bigger bubble.  To go back to work.  

There's nothing for it but to keep moving on, but it's hard when we don't know where.

Coming Up for Air

I quit my job last month.

One of them, anyway.  And started a new one.

The overwhelming atmosphere of the coronavirus pandemic for me, thus far, has been that I have to keep working.  I have to work just a little bit more.  Because if I don't work enough, people that are under my care will die.  At least that's what I think I was feeling when I look back.  When I was in it, I didn't really feel anything.

This job I quit has always been a little more than I bargained for.  I was never able to fully get on top of things, and always spent more time there than I had budgeted.  Then they had a COVID-19 outbreak and it felt like every minute that I wasn't working was time I wasn't spending getting calories and fluid into people who were too sick and weak to do it themselves. The worst (but maybe best) thing was that I wasn't able to actually be there because of provincial public health rules, so I felt like I was just guessing a lot of the time. I lost touch with a lot of things and people during those months.

Then this windfall job fell in my lap.  I had applied for it months ago and not heard anything so I wrote it off.  Even after I was interviewed over the phone, I had no inkling as to whether I had got the job or not.  Anyway, it's mine now, and I left my time-suck position with some degree of relief and a significant amount of guilty feelings.  But then, I had to train my replacement, orientate at the new job full time on weekdays, and somehow complete my other contract obligatons on evenings and weekends (which, thankfully, the privelege of working remotely allowed me to do).  It was like running a marathon only to realize at the finish line that there's a pack of wolves behind you and safety is another 3 miles away.

The new job: it is not a dream job.  No guaranteed hours and a pretty big cut to my hourly wage.  But it has potential to grow into more.  And right now it comes with something I've felt like I haven't had in months...maybe even years.  Time.  

For the first time in I-don't-know-how-long I don't feel like every day is a race to cram in as many things as possible and hope I don't miss anything or have to delay anything important because there were too many important things.  It feels like I've been holding my breath for a year and I'm finally breathing again.

It'll Be a Good Story...

This past weekend, my husband and I drove to our family cottage for an unwind weekend.  The fan motor on our central air had a factory defect and our house is HOT, so we headed north for some cooler air and some time without fewer screens. 

On our first morning, my husband woke up early to digestive distress.  He was upset because the sun was out and the air was nice and warm without being too sweltery and he was stuck inside running to the bathroom every half hour. 

His upset resolved around 10:30 and we decided it was safe to go for a bike ride.  We chose a familiar route and wheeled away.  It wasn't until we reached our turnaround destination, some 15 km from home base, that we saw the dark black-green clouds surrounding us...leaving only a small patch of blue above our heads.  We had one errand to run and I thought to myself, "We're going to be racing this home."

COVID times and courtesy dictate that only one member of your party enter the store, so my husband went in to make his purchase and left me to watch our bicycles.  No sooner had the door swung shut behind him than the rain began to fall on me and our bicycles.  It started with a light sprinkle but swiftly transformed into sheets and sheets of torrential downpour.  I sought shelter under a cedar tree lining someone's property on the roadside.  My husband ran out from the store.  We stood under the cedar tree hugging each other for warmth as Mother Nature hurled bucket after bucket of cold rain on top of us.  I counselled my husband to keep his bike helmet on lest it turn to hail.  Which it did.

When I heard the thunder, I recalled my girl guide training and thought we should seek shelter in the store we had just patronized rather than remaining under the tree's natural lightning rod.  The proprietor allowed us in, asked us not to drip on anything, and requested we sanitize our hands...COVID times again. We stood in his entryway, slowly saturating the carpet beneath us, waiting for clear skies or rescue.

We were rescued by my cousin in the neighbouring cottage who happened to be coming into town for groceries.  We drove back with our bikes strapped to the rack, marvelling at the number of downed trees and how quickly some chainsaw-wielding do-gooder had removed them from the roadway. The cardboard box holding the cord we had purchased, as well as the emergency toilet paper in our saddle bags had turned to mush.

It was a terrible morning, but it'll be a good story.

I'm hopeful this is a metaphor for our times.

The Return

Since the beginning of the pandemic, I had feared this moment.

Guys, I'm having return anxiety.

I know that many of you are out there and you can't wait to get back into the swing of things and back to work and back to shopping and back to eating in restaurants and hugging your loved ones.  But I'm scared.

I've been asked to start going back to one of my jobs this week, and this has me thinking about two things.

1. The world is fundamentally different from the one I left.

I haven't actually been in a real public place since March.  In that time, I haven't been in a store or a workplace more than once or twice.  There are new protocols in place, but I've been ensconced in my curbside pick-up and porch-delivery safety zone and I haven't acclimated to the new normal.  Not that my old normal was to go around hugging everyone and sneezing on everything, but I'm nervous about the necessary COVIDiquette and how my ignorance of it will affect how I move through the world.

...And speaking of ignorance...the other way that the world is fundamentally different is, of course, the recent Black Lives Matter protests across North America, and how I, as a white person who really feels like an ally, can come to terms with the privilege I've grown up with and how I can use my privilege for good.  I am trying by calling out microaggressions and have made small financial contributions to Black-led advocacy organizations, but I'm sure I have done more harm than good in my life and my efforts as an ally definitely do not outweigh my shortcomings.  It's a lot, but there's nothing to be done but keep doing.

2. My life is a lot less busy right now and I kind of like it.

I mean, work has been a trip.  Even though I don't have a commute, I have been chained to my laptop for many hours to git'er done from home.  That being said, I've had a lot less in the way of extra-curricular commitment and it has been really nice to have some breathing space.  I do a lot of things and I'm thinking that not all of those things are as fulfilling as they should be.  The fact that I'm feeling anxious about going back to them should be a red flag.  And I'm not necessarily saying that I need to quit all, or even a certain percentage of my after-work commitments.  A friend gave me a gift this year that said "get shit done" and if that isn't a motto I actively chose for myself, my personality definitely chose it for me.  People who get shit done are often tapped to fill roles of responsibility, and the flattery that goes along with people believing in you makes it hard to say no.  But being in a position of ownership or administration also adds a certain degree of anxiety that you're doing it wrong and you're messing it up for all the other people who have a stake in whatever you're doing.  What I've learned from the feeling of relief I had back in March juxtaposed with the feeling of anxiety I'm rocking now is that maybe the good feeling of people believing in you isn't always worth the anxiety of being accountable to those people.  I haven't figured this out yet, but it's something I can't sweep under a rug when everything's back in full swing, either.

So that's where I'm at right now.  I'm sure I will always struggle with how I move around in the world, but the world keeps moving and so must I.

A Life Less Automaton

I used to take a picture of my outfit every morning and post it to Instagram.

I'm not an influencer and it's definitely not one of my aspirations.  I like the likes.  Feedback is nice.  But I was using Instagram for the same reasons that Insta's owners want us to use it.  I was gathering data.  I was using the likes to determine what items were not going to make the cut during my quarterly closet purge.  I can't be bothered anymore.  I still get dressed every day in real clothes, but only my husband ever sees them so now the only thing that makes the cut is what makes me feel uncomfortable when I'm sitting at my desk for hours on end.

I used to set an intention for the day. 

I would use oracle cards and an astrology app.  I would post that on Instagram, too.  Not because I'm looking to be a spiritual leader to the masses.  I would put it there because it's a less wasteful thing to do than write it down in a notebook.  But my intention for every day is the same now: Don't let every day be the same.

When this started, I admit that I was reveling in my ability to go through the motions of every day without interruption.  I am a person who thrives on ritual.  But without something out of the ordinary to look forward to, the ritual becomes automation.  I'm not reveling anymore.  Mostly I'm just weary and I don't see the point of maintaining my rituals and routines if there's nothing to break them up.

I recognize that this line of argument is veering into "open things up so I can get a haircut" territory.  That's not where I'm going with this.  Though I would love to spend an afternoon having the hair ripped from my legs so I look less like a sasquatch, I know that I can't.  I understand the value of having my movements restricted - or of restricting my movements if nobody else will, for that matter (looking at you, economy-minded politicians) - for the greater good.  What I am learning is that I need to become more ingenious about how I shake up my routine so I don't become a robot.

How I'm Dealing

Most of my recent posts have been angry or anxious, and I'm still feeling that.  But it's the weekend, so that feeling isn't quite so fresh...though Monday's coming ;)

Because my arm's reach work fills me with anxiety, here's how I'm spending my precious free time to let all that go.

1. To-Do Lists - I've been really good at these since time immemorial.  I come up with things to do, many of which are recurring, and I do them.  Checking things off lists is extremely satisfying to me, and since I made the list, there aren't too many completely odious tasks on it. 

2. Baths - I decluttered the bathroom a few weeks ago.  Though it did make me anxious to pitch all the various expired creams and analgesics I found in my cupboard (not to mention my husband - he's still going on about how I tossed his 10-year-old polysporin), I also located a number of smelly bath soaks and salts.  I'm not good at just sitting, even though doing nothing is probably what I need right now, so I've been playing a 20-minute guided meditation while I'm in there.  It gives me something to focus on while I'm soaking up all the aromatherapy. 

3. Bike rides - or walks.  But mostly bike rides because I find it's easier to socially distance when I'm on the road with the cars instead of on the sidewalk with people who don't seem to understand what's happening in the world.  (Also, not getting myself needlessly worked up about those people because I can't control them...that's another way I'm trying to deal).  Last year I pledged to ride 100 km in one month, which I did fairly handily.  This year, I'm trying to double my previous month's mileage.  Last month, I rode about 88 km, so this month my goal is 177 km.  See?  Checking things off lists is extremely satisfying.  The weather lately has not been particularly cooperative about the bike rides lately (slash I'm a tiny baby who does not like to be wet or cold), so...

4. Yin yoga - I don't have a lot of space for an at-home workout and my house is a creaky 90-year-old factory bungalow.  Though I have access through my gym to all kinds of on-demand workouts, if I were to jump-squat in my front room, I'm fairly certain things would fall off the shelves in the furnace room at the back of the house.  I'm also finding that since I'm not weight training and roller skating regularly (I am mainly sitting in my office chair wondering if I've done enough to keep my clients alive this week), I'm experiencing a lot effed up muscle cramps/pain.  Enter yin yoga - gravity-aided stretching poses held for 3-5 minutes and nary a downward dog to be found.  It is full of meditative bullshit, but it helps me sleep, so whatever about that.

5. Newsletters - I had already subscribed to two newsletters before all of this started.  I read The Good Trade daily and Girls' Night In weekly.  I read a few more now.  Probably more than I can realistically consume in the time I have given, but there's always something inspiring or informative to read to reassure me (Girls' Night In), distract me (Big Spaceship Internet Brunch, Edith Zimmerman's Drawing Links), or let me know what's going on with the markets and politics south of the border/make me feel smug about being Canadian (Morning Brew). 

5. Musical challenges - I've been working my way through sight-reading Handel's Messiah.  I'm not good at it, but it's asking me to do things with my eyes and hands and brain that they haven't been asked to do in quite some time.  So that's good.  I'm also using an app to teach myself to play the guitar.  I can play a mean E minor.  And a fairly passable A major.  Moving back and forth between the two is still very difficult.  But focusing on challenging things that really don't matter very much since I'm not likely to be performing either Handel's Messiah or anything on the guitar for any sort of public anytime soon, it's good because the stakes are low.  Which is different from the real challenges I'm facing at work.

6. Cooking - This has become something of an adventure because I make the grocery list but I do not get the groceries.  I have a plan for weekend food, but sometimes what's available at the grocery store does not cooperate.  Sometimes, I suggest to my husband that a fresh coconut will be a fine alternative to shredded coconut so he doesn't have to go to another store to find it.  Sometimes, I find myself hammering open a coconut in my backyard at 9:30 a.m. on a Saturday, hoping I'm not bothering my neighbours.  I made an elderflower jelly mold yesterday.  And used a melon baller to scoop out a cooked beet.  Who am I?

Anyway - just in case you were thinking that I've been spending my isolation days curled up in the fetal position breathing into a paper bag.  I'm only doing that 5 days a week, and only metaphorically, anyway.  The rest of my life is filled with self-made challenges to keep my mind off the work day paper bag.  I hope you're dealing too, in whatever way you deal best.

Anxiety from the Comfort of Home

I'm going to keep this one short because I just haven't got it today. 

Way back, five weeks ago, I remember admitting that I was actually kind of looking forward to some government-mandated do-nothing time.  I thought I might finally have a minute to breathe.  I am still employed, and I am childless, so an extended WFH should be a breeze, no?

Guys.  I am not relaxed right now.

I have been pulling extra long days to get all my work done and I feel like my husband, who is home but not working, feels neglected and wishes that I wasn't spending so much time on work. He will correct me, and I appreciate that.
I have lost 20+ people I provide care to in the last month and though I know there was no way to prepare for this whole thing, I feel like it's partly because I wasn't prepared.
I have friends and family who want to have zoom calls with me and I really miss their faces but I have had literally one or more video conference calls (three today) or meetings every day to learn something new or to fix something I can't fix in person and I have nothing left for those people at the end of the day. 

Last week I got a note from my corporate contact letting me know my work supporting front-line workers was noticed and appreciated, and I honestly couldn't think what I had done for her to give me that feedback.  It was nice, but I also feel a little like I'm going to be found out somehow.

Anyway, that's how I feel.  Like an impostor. Anxious.  Not rested.  I'm sure I'm not alone.