Cutting Some Slack

Day 57 

I've started this posting about 5,000 different times, and of those 4,999 attempts, different emotions have gotten in the way. One moment I am fine, resigned to the status we are in. I make peace with the waiting and unknown. In other moments, I am hopeless, mad, hysterical, anxious, sad, or embarrassed, though usually all of the above. Or I feel nothing at all. Worst of all, I know I am not the only one with these ups and downs. The fact that "we are all in this together" gives me no comfort. Instead, I feel even more angry and helpless on behalf of every single individual's suffering, whether you are a friend, stranger, neighbor, or family member. It sucks and I hate it. 

The world has a palpably negative vibration and enduring it is exhausting. Processing feelings is exhausting and for a while I was pretty good at avoiding it. One day, I looked into a mirror and saw nothing but a sour, dark eyed hag with a pinched, butthole-mouth looking back. My emotional poker face fools no one. But, now I write to hold myself accountable to my feelings. Every day I work to maintain a separation of self-worth from the brittle ups and downs of the unknown. I remind myself they are not one and the same.

Some days are productive and positive. Some days are only meh and blah, while others are sorrowful. These woes don't even include the news which packs such an unjust and emotional punch, that it makes it hard to sleep at night. I feel like I don't have the right to write (rejoice or complain) about anything in my life because others have it so badly. But I realized I can and should take care of my own soul and still do my part to make things right. So, I write.

The reality is, of course I am fine, and will continue to be fine. Our short term plans are like everyone else's: stay at home, continue with school and training, and keep our fingers crossed and our faces masked. My kids are fabulous and brave. They seem to be handling the seclusion from friends and stress of having me be their teacher quite well. I have gotten to know their strengths and weaknesses as writers, readers, and mathematicians, as they have gotten to know my displeasure of understanding poetry and discerning fractions from decimals. Margo taught me Common Core however, which to my surprise, actually isn't that bad. 

Mark is my rock. He's my planner, doer, and positiver. When I am tossing and turning, and grinding my teeth through the night, he stays up thinking alternative game plans for our future should prior plans not work out. He is endlessly encouraging and when I am berating myself, he lifts me up. Sometimes I ask him why he loves me. He tells me that I don't need to know why (although he would give me a rundown if I asked), but that I need to simply accept that he does. 

Self care: when I am not teaching the kids, I doodle and sketch, and collect CEUs, continuing education credits, to maintain my nursing license. I am required to complete 24 credits every two years, and right now I have about 80. I have a nursing job waiting for me in Uzbekistan so with luck, I will get to put the knowledge to use this fall. Or maybe I don't want to- because it would mean I'd be dealing with STDs and fungus infections and diarrhea and of course corona virus, none of which I would wish anyone to have. I have really missed patient care.   

Long term wise, things get more complicated when Mark completes his training in June. We were told to plan as usual, which is to go on Home Leave (government mandated vacation) and onward to our post at some point. Ideally it would be July, but due to well... life, no one knows the when or how. We have friends and colleagues waiting to return to the States upon completion of their tours and others waiting to move abroad. Some families are waiting here to go back to their previous lives overseas. The entire system is navigating blind and making adjustments along the way, all the while with manpower scattered around the world holding their breaths like we are. In short: it is complicated, so we wait and fake embrace the icy cold-warmth of the unknowing and settle into whatever counts as patience these days.  

Forest Bathing