525,600 minutes and we’re still here to see what comes next. That is a gift and a reason for some celebration.
This time last year, the COVID-19 vaccines did not exist. Today, only about 16% of the US population has received a vaccine. The fact that I am lucky enough to be so early in the distribution is both bonkers and humbling. I do not take a moment of this for granted.
COVID insomnia – or “coronasomnia”- is a thing. Google it if you need a rabbit hole to wander down. The results of my search gave me article after article assuring me that I am not alone in my current sleepless nights – despite the evidence in my own home provided by a snoring husband, snoring dog, and no sounds of life coming from the teenagers’ rooms.
Keep doing all the things we can all do to help keep the virus in check as the vaccines continue to make their way (slowly) through the general population. Social distance, wear a mask, wash your hands. Because yes, we are still living in the midst of a global pandemic and I don’t want anymore reasons to think or say, “Jesus said WTF!”
The reminder that things don’t always have to be to spectacularly over-planned to be simply spectacular has been a gift of this strange time.
I have begun to wonder this week if I’ve actually been holding my breath for the past 11 months. Each vaccinated person in my immediate sphere is like a little dose of extra hope and is accompanied by the gift of deeper and cleansing breaths for me.
44 weeks of running on fumes and having to repeatedly pivot to new ways of doing life/parenting/work, combined with angst surrounding national security in the wake of the attempted insurrection, anxiety over new and more aggressive COVID variants, the close-but-not-close-enough promise of being vaccinated, and deep concern about the current state of my eldest child’s fragile mental health all collided in slow motion.
Friday, January 8, 2021…12:28pm The end of week 43 As my sister-in-law said on Wednesday, 2021 said to 2020, “Hold my beer…” What do we have to do to get…