March Forward

I cannot believe that it’s been over 3 months since I have blogged. SO many things have transpired during that 3 months, but that’s a whole other blogpost. We are here again…March…One year since the world shut down, and one year past what I believe to be the BIGGEST amount of anxiety from the MOST people I’ve ever witnessed, or have been a part of, myself. I remember, everyday that week, waiting for that phone call…”Don’t come into work tonight; We’re not opening.” And, I remember the numbers of people, dwindling down, all week long, but the amount of phone calls escalating…”Are you open? You ARE?!!” I remember my realization…I could be out of work for quite some time. Will I still be able to afford my medical coverage? Will I still even have it? What happens if I cannot teach? will happen if I cannot meet with my patients? Will my practice even survive this? How will they get the support they need? How will I? Will I be able to pay my bills, my groceries, my mortgage? And the questions and the anxiety mounted. Within days, the inevitable happened….I was out of work…but, until when? It’s so odd now when I realize that our government initially said that we would shut down for two weeks…2 weeks— I can do two weeks. I don’t have any savings, but, I have a freezer, toiletries, a roof over my head, and I can make adjustments, and even be creative, if need be.
1 week later, I was overwhelmed beyond belief; Meetings of every kind, at every hour, on every social platform I had ever been on a few times, to address therapeutic treatment, teaching online, and camp. I clocked over 100 hours of work (while I was “off”) and the theories changed daily, and then hourly. 2 weeks later I was teaching online. 3 weeks later, I was seeing (only 1) patient virtually, and helping camp staff to acclimate. 4 weeks later, I hardly recognized my home, having moved the furniture and created a dance studio, complete with a backdrop, sound, and lighting, and my office space had taken over that which was, weeks before, my dining room table. 5 weeks later, I picked up my never before used by me ukulele, and began learning to play, and 6 weeks later, I had become more creative than this scrapbooker had ever deemed possible. I was well beyond my need for groceries, having “lived off the land”, and was running out of toilet paper. I wasn’t one of the many who had run out immediately to stock up or stockpile, because I really didn’t believe we’d be in lockdown for THIS long. I had to go out and get things. So, I masked up, having sewn some of my own masks at home, gloved up, took my rolling cooler, and some wipes, and headed to Aldi. I had tried, unsuccessfully, for hours upon hours, to get a pick up time slot from Shoprite; forget about delivery, and I now, had no choice. I got in my car, having only started it up every 3 to 5 days, and realized I had a full tank of gas. I headed out of my development, which was quiet..like precamp quiet, and then onto the main road, that was eerily empty. I hadn’t been out in weeks, and, with very few exceptions, it was a ghost town. When I arrived at the store, gloves had been strewn here and there, and I became disgusted. There weren’t many, but I’m one of those people that despise littering, and, even worse, the spreading of germs. I decided to get what I needed and get the @#$& out. Every person there felt threatened by my mere existence, and I felt equally threatened by theirs. I tried to smile, but masked, that’s not readable. There were limitations as to what was available, and no toilet paper to be found. I heard other customers, at a distance, mentioning where they had “gotten lucky” and found some. I laughed to myself how much THAT expression had changed. Nonetheless, I finished (because a cooler can hold just so much) and realized I’d be living on salmon for the very near future. I got on line, upon invitation of a staff member, checked out, loaded my car, and got in and cried. I was flustered, sweaty, couldn’t breathe, and was fearful that I had exposed myself to what could possibly end in my death. I felt like I had entered the land of the lost. Sleestacks were everywhere, and I had no choice, but to risk my life for survival. I gathered myself, got back on the road, made it home, washed my hands, washed down EVERYTHING, and stripped down from my clothing, and jumped into the shower, aka “silkwood” style. I immediately did a wash, and bagged up any packaging tightly. I was really stressed, when I should’ve found relief. I couldn’t imagine venturing out again, let alone any time soon. I was hopeful that I could go another month before I had to, if we were still in lockdown. 3 weeks later, I had no choice. Canned kidney beans just weren’t cutting it for diversity, but, this time, I was more prepared. I did much better, and so did lots of people. Stores had made adjustments, carts were sanitized, numbers of occupants were limited. I had to go for bloodwork, and checked in from my car, and was texted as the next “guest” when my “lab tech was now ready for me”. I wondered why it hadn’t been done this way previously, and all along. We were experiencing our new normal, and it was clear we would have to get used to it. This wasn’t ending anytime soon. I became a master of social distancing, and working from home. I kept myself busy, cooking, cleaning, learning music, binge watching, and keeping in touch with family and friends. I craved social interaction, and balked at my mom, upset with my dad, and them driving each other crazy, while I remained isolated. I had no patience for anyone complaining about their families, when I was dying to see mine. I hadn’t seen anyone at all since sitting shiva in early January, and the sadness of being alone became magnified. I decided that it was time to get out for a walk, as often as possible, and take In the sunshine and beauty around me. It was the beginning of venturing back out onto our planet, and it was a wise choice. Over the next few weeks, things changed. I made them change. I went to a garden center, bought some trees and lots of plants, made hanging bags, and began tending to what became a lush garden. I bought myself a mini BBQ, and cooked outside when possible. I got out to connect with a couple of my friends who surprised me for my birthday. We ate, distanced, outside, and it made me realize just how much I needed support and social interaction. I mean, come onnn now, have you met me?! I had been on a downward slope, and hadn’t really recognized it until then. Walking became a necessity for me, and I became creative in my connecting with others. FaceTime, WhatsApp, and Zoom became my nights out, complete with wine, and/or dinner on occasions. I spent evenings on the deck, with music playing, and bug candles lit, and connected, sometimes, for hours. Camp was canceled, and I found myself baffled; I mean, what DO people do that are not at camp all summer? And then, a dear friend invited me to join her on the beach. More sunshine, good company, and water which brings me calm. No, it wasn’t a lake, but, I found the bay to be the next best thing. Over time, I was going weekly, and even went camping, which, being back in my camp element, was the highlight of my summer.
As I approach the same coming of spring, and the clocks going ahead to begin Daylight Savings this weekend, I marvel at how far I have come. I still have so many unanswered questions, and my summer is still up in the air, but, I am a survivor, and, in more ways than one. I have learned, adapted, strengthened relationships with those that were willing to do the work alongside me, and have become more flexible, as well as having stretched my comfort zone. And, all along the way, I have helped others. We really CAN acclimate and learn new coping skills. I know this, because I teach it everyday. But, I needed to look at my own progress, vs. perfection.
In a few weeks, I will be attending a wedding. It is the first celebration that I will be at in quite some time, and I am REALLY looking forward to it and everything surrounding it. The venue has changed three times. The attire has changed twice. The love has grown. It is, what I hope to be, the first of many celebrations that have had to be reinvented, but now are way, wayyyyy more important because they come from love and appreciation, moreso than they would have previously. My comfort zone may not be the same as others attending, but, I am embracing what works for me. I am looking forward to spending an evening on the dance floor, dancing the night away, as I continue to March forward.