While I feel like I am losing track of days, I know it's Sunday.
Sunday morning is my favorite.
Friday at the end of the work day always feels like a giant exhale.
Saturday I can start to breathe.
Sunday I am at peace.
During regular work time....wait, do we call it "the old times" now? "Back in the day?" Ok, when we used to report to work at in buildings, Sunday morning was still peaceful, but now it's a little easier to keep the zen throughout the day. It's not the same scramble to mentally go through a week of outfits, lunches and events. If anything has more of a "here we go again" feel.
I'm going to take this morning to reflect.
Week 5 was emotionally brutal. The effects of limited alone time and being the full-time caretaker stacked up, and by Friday the migraine
wasn't the only indication that I was on a down slide. Yesterday was the worst. I didn't want to talk to anyone, the little things I can usually laugh off or pleasantly ignore seemed to strike me to my core, and I was just plain miserable. I didn't want to hang out with myself. Even the pets seemed to give a wide berth.
We have/had a wedding planned for June 27.
It's not going to happen.
That was a big disappointment, and until this week I had been holding out hope that it just might. That was one chunk of mood.
We looked at some financial crunches. That was another.
Universities and schools are starting to discuss plans for a 2020-2021 hybrid look. It makes me wonder how insane my schools will be if we have to look at a plan like that, and what Alexa's senior year in college will look like. Internships? Celebrations? That rolls me into feeling sad for all of the kids missing things so dearly this year. Chunk.
And none of that was specific to me, so I couldn't even feel sorry for myself. We're all dealing with disappointments right now. Celebrations, cancelled vacations, family plans, entire seasons of sports and music events. The shock has worn off and now things are just dull. Eternally dull. That knocked off the remainder of peace I was keeping with myself.
Everyone in my house is kind enough to give space when space is needed, and they seem to know the right time to inject the kind of humor that can bring me out of a funk. After a long walk I could finally be in the same room with myself again.
This morning I showered and got dressed into real clothes. I put some make-up on. Stood outside with the dogs to breathe in the fresher than ever morning air and stand in the sun. Soon I will don my mask to go to the grocery, where everyone else will be wearing a mask as well, so that's not even normal.
I would do Target Run, but even the though makes me feel guilty. It might just be a day for a long drive. A walk in the woods. Anything other than what has become normal. It's time to build up for another week of IN. I guess that is the new Sunday Scramble.
Last night there was a world-wide concert televised on every network and streaming platform. The songs made me envision our first days out, when things are real again and we can hug our friends like we used to. The simplicity of that wish makes me want to weep. The hundreds of morning and afternoon kiddo hugs..... it's hard to imagine anymore.
How are you identifying when you hit the wall? Or is it glaringly apparent to all? What are you doing to get past it? I'm sending all my best JuJu to every reader, and praying that your headspace is the best space in your home.