I can always easily identify the times I need to be journaling or writing or both… they’re the times I avoid doing so. Like the past 6 months of Covid hell. As tough as I am, lately I’ve been starting to really feel the depression side effects of living with Ms. Rona. Whichever of my angel guides sparked the need for me to sit down and write last night, I sincerely thank you because I woke up this morning feeling like myself for the first time in weeks, with a lightness that has felt unreachable as of late.
It all caught fire listening to the “Monica the Medium” podcast on a walk last night and one little story she told. I want to share what spilled out of me because I know there are MANY fellow souls, especially those of you who are mothers, who are feeling the same way. You are not alone. We are in this together, even though we’re apart - yes, it totally feels like a cruel joke. I hope it sparks something in you, just as Monica’s words did for me.
I don’t ask this lightly - what does it mean to be alive?
I completely understand the brevity of asking this during a damn pandemic and I mean no harm or disrespect to the 125k+ lives that have been lost just here in the US, not to mention those worldwide. But really, isn’t it just like us silly humans to take a deeper look at life when it is at its most difficult? Gluttons for punishment or geniuses? I can’t decide.
On Monica’s latest podcast episode, she was telling stories of what spirits tell her about their experience right before and after passing into the spirit realm. She mentioned a quote from one woman who said she felt more alive as a spirit than she ever did while Earth-bound. In a world where we do everything in our power to elongate life, I immediately asked myself if I am truly living…
My gut reaction was, “I fucking hope not.” But if I take a breath for a hot minute and remind myself that 2020 has pushed the entire world far beyond our limits, I have a little hope that what is passing for “living” is temporary. One silver lining for a lot of people during covid has been one of downtime, slowing down, and getting back to basics. It almost sounds like what “living” should be - what I’d like it to resemble anyway. If I use this as my base and then look at my life…
Well, I’m definitely not fucking living. And to be honest, I’m not sure there are any moms who ARE “living” right now - let alone their best life. I honestly wouldn’t even call it surviving. As I sit here trying to find words to adequately describe the state of mothers - I’m coming up disappointingly (albeit not surprisingly - it is still 2020) short. Instead of comparing it to being beaten up by an MMA champion (which, let’s be honest, would be an upgrade), let me just lay it out.
I can feel myself sinking slowly inward more each day. It’s a heavy and exhausting feeling of utter defeat and the desire to surrender.
My heart hurts. My soul hurts. The discord, disrespect, pain, loss of human life, loss of my lifestyle, loss of school for my kids and their childhood, loss of vacation, loss of time with friends, no dinners out, you get it, and massive anxiety in my life, in addition to the anxiety of those around me has this empath overwhelmed.
As an introvert who hasn’t truly been alone in six months, my skin is crawling. I swallow and shove down my instinct to recoil from my kids and my husband to not hurt them and to hold space for them. As a result, I’m almost dizzy from the need and lack of solitude and not being needed 24/7.
I have emotional whiplash from being the mediator between family members.
I can no longer stand yelling - doing it or the sound of it - the energetic force is too much for my fractured being to handle at this point.
All of this to hold my family together. To work full-time during a pandemic while also home-schooling a young kid who shuts down when she doesn’t do something perfectly. I just read Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly, and the realization of how much shame my SIX year old inherently feels absolutely breaks my heart. To work from my 2-year old’s room most days, so I can hide from the kids during calls, only to have them make an appearance anyway. Notably, my 2-year old even dropped trow outside two feet away from me while I was on a video conference, so she could pee. True story. To shield my kids from illness. To do everything in my power to keep their worlds normal and joyful.
I’m doing alllllll the things. What I’m not doing is truly living. How do you live in a pandemic?
The answer is - it looks different for everyone. For me, living means being grounded in nature and spirit, and shining my light. It means joyous moments with my family, and a caring relationship with my husband. It means taking time to recharge and allowing myself to have space when I need it. And here’s the big kahuna - it means allowing someone else to carry the burden for a little while (and not then feeling guilty as a result, ammiright?).
Where is it said we have to carry this alone? Where is it said we aren’t allowed to talk about how we really feel? Where is it said we aren’t allowed to vent and release these heavy emotions without raising concern for our well-being or that of our families?
No where.
I’m sure you’re chuckling to yourself thinking, “if only, Sara”, but there is also some part of you that knows I’m right. As mothers, why do we feel like it’s our plight to carry this weight all the time, alone? We have been told that it takes a village… we need that village now more than ever, but now we’re even more cut off than ever before. I want you to know that I see you. That you village is still here.
You are not alone in the darkness. I know it’s dark as shit right now and that there isn’t really light at the end of the tunnel yet. But, just like the music comes from within the Trolls themselves and not just their strings (oh yeah, I just went there because you know that has been playing on repeat in my house for 2 months), there is light within you, no matter dim it may feel.
Hold on to the light and do things that make that light brighter - whatever that means for you. There cannot be darkness where there is light.
We will get through this.
We will be forever changed by it.
We will grow from it.
Our light may shine differently and reflect off the new facets made by this pressure, but that just means more rainbows.
For now, this is what I hold on to. For now, I will replace the words “I have to” with “I get to”.
I get to have a full day of work.
I get to go snuggle with my kid the third time she gets out of bed at night.
I get to help educate my daughter.
I get to be a source of guidance for my family.
By no means will I be happy go lucky 100% of the time - that’s just not a possibility for me right now. What I will do, and what I encourage you to do, is to seek out the light, and brighten the light within. Allow yourself to release the heaviness you’re carrying, to share the burden with your support system. It isn’t easy… I say that while trying to juggle my two incredibly strong-willed daughters right now as I write. But as one of the smartest women I know says, we can do hard things.