Reentry is tricky business and there’s nothing normal about it.
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.
There are days when the absolute last thing I want to spend my limited mental energy on is peeking over the pandemic wall to catch a glimpse of what might be. But if I want a real chance to be better prepared for life post COVID-19 than we were for life during COVID-19, I have to keep walking right up to that pandemic wall and risking both the heartbreak and the hope that might be seen on the other side.
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.
At this exact moment in time, I strongly dislike my entire family. Truth be told they’re probably not my biggest fans right now either. I love them like crazy, but am so over them being around ALL. THE. TIME.