Tag: Self-love

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quarantine

It’s been 48 days since I last went into work. At least 48 days since I went out over my best friends house for dinner and wine. Over 48 days since I met any of my friends out for drinks. Over 48 days since I spent a Sunday at my parents house or had game night with my sisters. I miss the hours of talking on a park bench under the moon, deep discussions over coffee about monogamy, infidelity, politics, rituals, sleep cycles, dating, evolving friendships, goals, dreams, spirituality, purpose. I miss eye contact, you know the kind that’s so intense it’s tangible. I miss the connection you feel in physical presence, when you’re sharing the same air space. I miss smiling at strangers seated at the bar around me, the mutually shared and respected but separate reasons we are all there: a silent understanding.

I don’t miss routine. I don’t miss looking at schedules. I don’t miss feeling as though I need to be a thousand things to a hundred people. I don’t miss being stretched too thin. I don’t miss the leg and back aches that come with standing for 10+ hours a day. I don’t miss feeling like I have to say yes, have to stay late, have to come in early, have to be happy, excited, enthusiastic, eager. I don’t miss being “on” all the time. I don’t miss feeling so exhausted from constant talk that I have nothing left when I get home. I don’t miss feeling so physically worn that the weekend serves only as recovery time.

My quarantine life has gone through many phases. Hours staring off into space. Days curled up on the couch reading. Drawing the same silhouette for weeks until I mastered it (got bored with it). Doodling with sharpies in a swirly daze. Writing poems and essays. Depression. Anxiety. Wine. Lots of wine. Pot brownies to help me sleep. Panic. Watching my checking account dwindle. Nightmares. FaceTime with friends. Group chats with sisters about our fear over my parents not making it through this fucking virus. Worry. Thankful for a break from work. Anxiety over a break for work (will I lose my clients??). Staying up late. Going to sleep early. Sleeping in. Waking up early. Avoiding grocery stores. Excitement over a full fridge and cabinets. Stocking up on food. Watching my fridge empty out. Waiting for grocery deliveries. Isolating myself in isolation. Avoiding calls and texts. Looking at my phone, does nobody want to talk to me? Endless scrolling. Watching the news. Not watching the news. Long, hot showers.

And finally, working out. For maybe the first time ever I look forward to it. I really push myself: shakey legs, sore triceps, burning abs. I know it makes sense, now there’s actual time to work out, but I think it’s a little deeper than that. I’ve never had a moment in my life where I wasn’t distracted by the “have to’s”. Life has always been about working hard, playing hard, get up early, work out, go to work, eat a healthy dinner, get to bed early. Repeat. I could never really do it. I’m not driven by peer pressure. Falling ill to the sickness of comparison has done nothing but make me feel less than. I’ve never been a morning person but I know people who can wake up at 5 a.m and go to spin class. I envied them but wondered, why am I still not doing it?! I was worried I lacked motivation and self discipline. In reality I never lacked motivation or self discipline. I was always trying to fit into what society made me believe was the way I HAD to do things. To be honest, work exhausted me so badly I couldn’t even fathom adding a workout to my mornings.

Suddenly, a gift. Time. We are constantly being distracted by what we have to do, need to do and should do. It doesn’t leave room for the things we want to do. We have to go here, leave there, drop this somewhere, pick up something, buy these, return those. There are so many conversations we are obligated to have, parties we’re obligated to attend, bodies we’re obligated to whip into shape…like we aren’t the narrators of our own stories. I have often felt helpless in my own life, like I didn’t have the options I wanted or choices I wanted. I’m a hard worker and often find I work myself too hard. It’s my own fault but it’s also what I’ve been conditioned to do. I feel like I am not giving it my all unless I am squeezing in that last client at what should be the end of my day. If I don’t want to cry at the thought of giving another happy greeting or feel too mentally and physically drained to even drive home, did I even work? It’s always been a question of can I do it? And the answer is always well, yes I can. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should.

How sad is it that it took a global pandemic to remember how good it felt to finish a book? And not just the feeling of accomplishment but also the feeling of loss, knowing you’ve read the last word, closed it for the last time. When was the last time I took more than a five minute shower or soaked in a bath? How long has it been since I went a whole day without checking email? Have I ever spent a Saturday out on the deck in the sun with a book, or drawing pad? It took a global pandemic for me to work out for my own pleasure not because I feel pressured by society standards. How sad that I had to lose the freedom of seeing people whenever I want in order to know who I truly want to spend more time with. How sad that now I’m afraid to lose it. I started this quarantine worried, like I was losing my sense of normalcy. Now I’m afraid to lose the quality it brought to my life. How do I make sure I return to the world with an actual sense of balance? How do I make sure I don’t fall into the endless rabbit hole of success, hard work and people pleasing? It feels as though there is no other option. I absolutely cannot go back to that… but I can’t stay here.

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Relearning and Unlearning who I am and Who I am not

When I first separated from my ex-wife the only thing that felt separate was our locations. She was living there, I was living here. Everything else still felt totally connected, which made it hard for me to wake up, and move on with my life. The first month or so was the worst. Everything I had done for the last seven years involved another person, every decision I made. Suddenly I found myself in the grocery store staring at food and not knowing whether I wanted it or “we” wanted it. What toast do I buy for breakfast, and what do I like to put on it? Do I even want toast, or do I want oatmeal? Those bananas are too ripe, but are they the right ripeness for me? What kind of tea do I want? What about my coffee in the morning, will I drink full or half calf? What should I make for dinner, and how much leftovers do I need for a one person lunch the next day? We can’t eat rice and vegetables for three nights in a row, that’s boring and repetitive. But wait, I LOVE rice and vegetables and CAN eat it three days in a row! Don’t even look at cookies, ice cream, or chocolate bars, you have no one to surprise with those, but would YOU like some? I had no clue what I would want sitting on the couch after dinner as a treat with my tea. So I said, fuck it. I didn’t shop. I drank my sisters tea, would run into whole foods on the mornings I worked, grab something for lunch, and I honestly can’t remember what I ate for dinner. Will I ever buy a bottle of wine again? Who am I going to share it with? Who is going to get as excited as I am about it? Can I be excited about it all on my own? I physically could not bring myself to think about it. I didn’t even want to eat or shop, suddenly it felt like a chore.

Even getting dressed in the morning felt weird. Who am I trying to impress? What do I wear when I’m not dressing for the pleasure of another person. And did I really just say “for the pleasure of another person?”  Who the hell am I?!?! That was the problem. I had forgotten. It’s not that I didn’t know, I had simply forgotten. I had to relearn certain things about myself. It was a book I hadn’t opened in a while but at one time, I knew it word for word. What do I love? What gives me pleasure? What makes me feel good in the morning? What makes me smile? What makes me feel confident? What decisions will I make when my opinion is all that matters? When there is no fear of judgment, disapproval or disappointment?

As the weather was getting colder I realized I had to go into my storage and pull out all of my sweaters. After rummaging through them, I could not even bring myself to take them out of the bags they were in. Old sweaters I would have thrown out long ago but kept around because she thought they were cute on me. Sweaters I bought for her but she didn’t wear so I wore them instead. Sweaters I wore for holidays and for cold walks on Thanksgiving because some families (my in-laws)  like to go on long, freezing cold walks on Thanksgiving morning. Well you know what? Not my family!! I left them in the bag and without hesitation spent an ungodly amount of money on new winter attire from Top Shop. Those old clothes would have made me feel like I was putting on clothes that belonged to someone else. In a sense, I would have been. I was realizing that I had slowly transformed myself into someone that fit snuggly (tried to anyway) into another persons life. Little tweaks here and there that felt like the “expected” thing to do, all added up and turned me into someone else. Sometimes it was just the easier thing to do, like switching to a new brand of coffee. But other times it was something much bigger, like choosing to stay home on Sundays when all my siblings are at my parents house. Convincing myself that I in fact needed a day at home with my wife. And that I can’t possibly be expected to spend every single Sunday with my family even though that is exactly what I had done and looked forward to my whole entire life. Ever try forcing something to fit in a space it’s too big for? You get bulges, wrinkles, cracks. It simply does not work.

Relationships are a wonder to me. What we do in them, for them, in spite or them, and despite them. There are things we as individuals are willing to let go of, look past, accept and tolerate for a relationship. And some of that is okay but without boundaries you are simply losing yourself. You are taking both feet off the ground and not only letting but expecting and hoping that someone else will carry you. And the trouble with that is that they can bring you anywhere. Every day my feet are planted firmly on the ground. My legs are strong and sturdy. I am working hard to ensure that in the future nobody ever knocks me off my feet again but rather stands next to me with both their feet firmly planted as well. Side by side we will grow much taller.