Right now, I am sad and just letting myself feel my sorrow.

My friend’s dad died today (not from Corona), and I don’t know when I’ll get to hug her. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to send flowers since florists are not an essential service where her parents live. There are so many moments lately that make my heart ache. You think I’d eventually go numb but instead, I feel more and more deeply.

For nearly seven years now, I have been working to become a better version of myself. A lot of that work has involved getting comfortable with my feelings. I spent most of my life avoiding my feelings, and I know that I have to basically let myself get naked with my feelings if I want to feel authentic and whole.

But there is still a part of me that wants to avoid my feelings. As I work to become a better person, and try things like therapy and meditation, I think that on a subconscious level, part of me is hoping to find a way to transcend my feelings. Like, if I can find the right mixture of yoga, meditation, prayer and journaling, I will never again have an uncomfortable feeling.

But that’s not going to happen, is it?

And would I even want that if it were possible?

If I eliminated all the shitty feelings that come with the human experience, wouldn’t I eliminate the glorious ones as well?

Right now, I want to feel the sadness. I don’t want to bury it with chocolate or transform it with meditation and prayer. I just want to feel sad because someone I loved lost her dad and empathy is a beautiful part of being human.

I am sad, and that’s okay.

If you have been reading my blog during The Great 2020 Adventure, you might think I have been devoted all of my free time during this pandemic to thinking deep and weighty thoughts. I’d like to take a moment (or blog post) to disabuse you of that notion.

Yes, I have been seeking meaning and transformation while sheltering-at-home. I have been letting my emotions race across me like a wildfire, burning away my illusions of control and certainty, laying bare some issues that had been lurking in my subconscious. I value the work of becoming my best self, and this adventure has certainly afforded me with plenty of opportunities to push myself to a higher level.

But most of the time, I am just trying to distract myself from the Covid-19 shit show.

Let’s break down the amount of time I spend on reflection, contemplation, rumination and personal growth:

• I journal every day for about 30 minutes. This is a practice I have been doing for over six years now. It’s the foundation of my mental, emotional and spiritual health. But it’s only a half hour. After 30 minutes, my hand craps out (I journal with pen and paper) and I’m done. And even if I could build up some hand muscles (is this even a thing?), 30 minutes is my ceiling for meaningful journaling. After that, I might as well be writing broccoli wombat furbenny blah.
• I meditate for ten minutes. Eventually, I’d like to meditate for longer but “eventually” is not happening anytime soon.
• I write a blog post, usually in the afternoon, for about 30-60 minutes. Blogging usually only takes 30 minutes but once a week or so, it takes a full hour.
• Most days, I read something in the self-help and spirituality genre. During pre-Corona life, I could easily read one of these books for 2-3 hours if I had enough time. But since we have started sheltering-at-home, I have plenty of time for reading, but I can only read inspirational books for maybe 20 minutes before my brain collapses.
• I also listen to podcasts when I am doing chores and walking alone. I enjoy podcasts like Unlocking Us by Brené Brown and Awesome with Alison, that are helping me process my feelings about and responses to The Great 2020 Adventure. But I can only handle these inspirational podcasts for one hour each day. TOPS. Any longer, and you can actual see the cerebral fluid leaking out of my ears.

Adding it up, I spend 2.5-3 hours every day in “reflection and rumination” mode. But there are 24 hours in a day! Lately, I have been sleeping about nine hours each night (which is at least an hour more than I usually do, but damn, I need my sleep). But I’m awake and conscious for 15 hours every day, and I’m only spending 2.5-3 of those hours thinking, pondering and seeking meaning.

I love The Work of personal growth and transformation. As my kids get older, I can see myself spending more time in this area. But during the pandemic, I have limited mental capacity for deep thought. Most of the time? I just want to be diverted!

My pandemic diversions have included:

• Tiger King on Netflix
• The Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals on YouTube
• Survivor, one of my favorite t.v. shows
• And the list is longer, but my brain is so tired I just can’t remember…
• Oh! I bought myself People magazine at Vons and I think I’m going to buy more magazines because they are just about right for my brain’s attention span.

I was washing dishes an hour ago and thought I should listen to something inspirational but my brain said, No, don’t bother. So I tried the first episode of the Even the Rich podcast, and it was heaven. It was just the right mix of fluff and wit. The hosts are diving into stories about wealthy family dynasties. The first episode was about Harry and Megan and I realized I know very little about the couple. (Are they formerly royal? Royal adjacent? Royal light?) I highly recommend it if you like podcasts and just need some brain candy.

I am going to actively seek out more diversions for my brain. Like right now! I think I have spent more than enough time writing a blog post. It’s time to work on my novel, which is the first book in a fantasy series about a bastard princess who can do magic. It’s a fun distraction, and damnit, right now I need all the fun distractions I can get.

p.s. I just thought of another favorite diversion: #iMomSoHard. I’m going to watch one of their videos now before I turn my attention to my novel. #priorities

I was listening to the Awesome with Alison episodes about The Four Agreements, and Alison suggested thinking about the way my life has “padded the fall” of living through this pandemic. This is a lovely idea that I have kept returning to again and again, so of course, I’m writing a blog post about it.

As I write this, we have been sheltering at home for a MONTH with at least another month to go. It is strange and weird, draining and isolating, stressful and emotional – need I go on?? But as tough as this experience has been, my life is full of blessings that are definitely making it easier to live (and sometimes thrive!) during The Great 2020 Adventure. As Alison says, these blessings have “padded the fall.”

• Our Neighborhood: We live in a safe, flat neighborhood that is great for taking the kids on walks, scooter rides, and rollerskating outings.
• Our house: We have a house with three bedrooms, a living room, a den, and two bathrooms. In other words, we are able to get some space from each other. The front yard is big enough for the kids to play soccer. We might even get to use our pool next week when Pasadena gets some temps in the high 80s.
• Books: I have amassed quite a lovely library of books for the kids.
• Working appliances: Our dishwasher died last December, so hallelujah, we have a brand new dishwasher!
• My mindset: I have been working on my personal growth ever since I was diagnosed with postpartum depression in July 2013, so I have a lot of beliefs and attitudes that are making it easier for me to accept the current situation.
• Sidewalk chalk: We have tons of sidewalk chalk leftover from last summer. I hear its tough to get chalk these days! I’m glad we can adorn our sidewalk with colorful art.
• My therapist: I have a long-established relationship with my therapist and we have been able to continue video sessions through this pandemic.
• Vitamin B: I learned a few months ago that I have the MTHFR genetic mutation and need a special Vitamin B supplement. I started the Vitamin B supplement and have been sleeping so much better.
• No chronic pain: My shoulder went out in January 2019 and I spent pretty much all of 2019 working through that pain. I last saw my osteopath in December 2019, just before Christmas, and my shoulder has felt great ever since then. I feel so bad for anyone living with chronic pain during this adventure.
• My hobbies: I have hobbies! So! Many! Hobbies! Knitting, cross-stitch, doodling, paining… These hobbies help me calm down at the end of the day.
• Craft supplies: And I have craft supplies! So! Many! Craft Supplies! I have been meaning to declutter my hoard of yarn, felt, beads, thread, paint, glitter, and in the not so distant past, kept bemoaning my lack of time to declutter. And now: thank god! I have all the supplies my kids could possibly need to make it through this quarantine.
• This one is weird but bear with me: Last year, Julian’s school had to unexpectedly close from late March until mid-September when there was asbestos contamination. I gained about 23 pounds from stress eating. And those 23 pounds inspired me to examine my relationship with food and come to terms with my tendency to eat to numb my feelings. I learned how to be comfortable with feeling uncomfortable and now, I find that I am only occasionally stress eating during The Great 2020 Adventure. If the preschool asbestos situation had not forced me to confront my emotional eating issues, damn, I would have probably gained 50 pounds during the pandemic.
• Noom: About two weeks before Pippa’s school closed, I signed up for the app Noom. It’s a healthy eating program created by psychologists and after coming to terms with my emotional eating, I needed to address the psychology of my eating habits. I am still doing Noom and have lost about eleven pounds to date. Woot woot! I am so glad I had already established the habit of using Noom before the shit hit the fan.
• Meditation: I have had an on-again, off-again relationship with meditation for years, but I finally got into the groove of meditating about a year ago with the Calm App. I start most mornings with a ten minute meditation and I know meditation is keeping me sane during this unprecedented moment in history.

I could go on and on. The more I think about the things that have cushioned my experience of the Covid-19 crisis, the better I feel. I look around and see all sorts of things as blessings – like my dishwasher! When our old dishwasher crapped out during the Christmas holidays, I felt cursed. Now with enough time and perspective, I see that the timing was actually a blessing.

When “real life” returns, I hope I can remember that things which seem like curses might eventually transform into gifts and blessings.

One of my favorite books is The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom (A Toltec Wisdom Book) by Don Miguel Ruiz. (Whew, trying saying that three times fast!) I read it about three years ago, and it was truly transformational. Within a few weeks of reading that book, and applying its teachings to my life, I felt like a better person. I was more compassionate and confident and less judgmental. Shortly after finishing The Four Agreements, I thought, damn, I need to reread that one.

But I rarely reread nonfiction books. I reread Pride and Prejudice every two or three years, and I do like to revisit a few other favorites from time to time. I have read The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin many, many times – but that is mainly because my college thesis was about the publication of his autobiography. (There are probably less than ten people alive who have read The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin as many times as I have!) But for the most part, my To Read List is too long for me to reread books.

I could not, however, get out of my head the idea that I should make an exception for The Four Agreements. While having lunch with a friend in February (two months and about eleven lifetimes ago), we talked about The Four Agreements briefly. Shortly thereafter, I saw that Awesome with Alison, one of my favorite podcasts, was doing a Four Agreements read-along. Well, shit. It seemed time to dust off my copy and start rereading.

Then this whole sheltering-at-home adventure started and I realized that rereading The Four Agreements was no longer just a good idea. It was absolutely imperative. So long story short (too late!), that is what I am slowly doing.

The book’s basic premise is that as children, we are domesticated by the world and we accept “agreements” that affect the way we live. A lot of these agreements are actually pretty damn destructive. For example, a girl might accept the agreement that she is only worthy of love if she is perfect. Then, she becomes a perfectionist and beats herself up whenever she misses that target. Another child might accept the agreement that she is a failure and should not bother trying to do anything right because she sucks no matter what. Growing up, we make hundreds if not thousands of agreements that can actually make us pretty damn miserable.

But there is hope! If we accept the four agreements described by Ruiz, then those agreements will dismantle all the false agreements we have accepted. The four agreements are: (1) be impeccable with your word; (2) don’t take things personally; (3) don’t make assumptions; and (4) do your best.

The Four Agreements was so incredibly inspiring and transformational when I read it in 2016. And now, four years later, in the midst of the sheltering-at-home adventure, I’m finding it to be just as inspiring. Maybe more.

I’ve been frustrated the past few weeks because there is no manual for this unprecedented moment in history, but as I’ve been rereading The Four Agreements, I’ve found myself warming up to a new idea: maybe I don’t need a specific manual for the Covid-19 crisis.

Life feels weird and surreal and unprecedented but it is still life.

The sun still rises in the east and sets in the west.

My heart still beats in my chest while my stomach digests lunch.

And my children are still comforted by snuggles and stories.

We are living through a historic moment, but we are still humans doing our best to live. In the middle of a global crisis, The Four Agreements still feels relevant and inspirational. As I think about some of my other favorite books – The Obstacle is the Way by Ryan Holiday; The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck by Mark Manson; and literally anything by  Brené Brown, Pema Chodron and Natalie Goldberg – I am realizing that all the advice that felt powerful when I was living my “regular” life is just as powerful now.

For me, sheltering-at-home is a bit like a microscope. It has revealed personal issues (e.g discomfort with uncertainty, perfectionism, avoidance of feelings) that were there pre-Corona. They were just doing a better job of flying under the radar.

Postpartum depression was also a sort of microscope for my personal issues – a microscope with crashing hormones, a new baby, and a major life transition. Postpartum depression created PPD-specific issues (like suicidal thoughts, something I only ever experienced in July 2015 at the height of my PPD), but PPD also shed a very intense light on my preexisting anxiety. Once I recovered from the crisis of PPD, I took a hard look at my preexisting anxiety, smiled, and basically said, Your turn.

When this adventure of sheltering-at-home began, I ached for a book that would address all my specific “living through a pandemic” issues. But now that I am rereading The Four Agreements, I see that instead of finding some book that alleviates all my current discomfort, I can do something even better. I can dive deeper and tackle the personal issues – perfectionism, discomfort with uncertainty, avoidance of feelings – that were able to fly below the radar during the humdrum of regular pre-Covid-19 living.

This might actually be a little fun.

A word that I keep returning to is “meaning.” What is the meaning in this pandemic? How can I make sheltering at home a meaningful experience for me? What should I be learning? How can I use this experience to help transform me into a better version of myself?

Yesterday I listened to the Unlocking Us podcast, specifically the episode called “David Kessler and Brené on Grief and Finding Meaning,” and the conversation made we wonder if I am trying to extract some meaning out of this adventure in order to “pole vault” over my feelings.

Huh.

Maybe??

But then I remembered my experiences with postpartum depression. In the beginning, I did not have much self-awareness of what was happening to me. I was slipping into the darkness of depression, extreme anxiety and debilitating OCD and could not even see that I had a bona fide mental illness. I was floundering; and then I was suffering; and then I was slipping into the abyss of despair and struggling with suicidal thoughts. It was terrifying and at the time, did not feel even the least bit meaningful.

But it was.

Postpartum depression was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. I just could not see that when I was suffering from insomnia, guilt, despair, and a host of other fun symptoms. I was too lost in the suffering to see that postpartum depression was for me more than a mental illness. It was the crisis that prompted me to examine my life and realize that I had been suffocating my authentic self. At the time that I had PPD, I actually lamented to my therapist, Why me? Now, I tell my (new) therapist, Thank God it was me.

My experience with postpartum depression opened my eyes to how life’s darkest experiences can lead to the most radiant light. That is why I am casting around for meaning now. I can sense from past experience that it is somewhere close.

But I could not see the meaning of postpartum depression when I was in the PPD trenches, and I am sensing that I will not understand the full meaning of the Covid-19 adventure until it is long over.

That does not mean I am going to zone out with Netflix all day and ignore my questions about what this experience means for me. That’s not my process. I started writing my PPD memoir when I still had postpartum depression. Part of me thought I was being a bit ridiculous, trying to write about an experience that I was still living, but I also knew it was something I had to do. So I wrote and sought meaning and wrote, and the writing I did was more important to my recovery than all of the other things I did combined (and that includes my four night stay in a psych ward, daily Zoloft and weekly cognitive behavioral therapy).

I’m not saying every mom who gets PPD needs to write in order to recover, and the same is true for people living through this sheltering-at-home adventure. I, though, am a writer. I was born to write and tell stories. I tried to deny my calling for years and it just about drove me mad. Not everyone was born to write, but we all have our something, and that something is often the thing that can lead us from darkness back into the light.

I started writing about PPD when I still had PPD and writing helped me understand just what it meant for me to have a mental illness. I did not start with that intention. I just knew I had to write about PPD when I still had PPD because every cell in my body was crying out for me to do that. Now I have started blogging about sheltering-at-home while we are still sheltering-at-home. We do not even know for certain when this will end! But writing is my anchor. It is helping me understand what is happening to me now – or at least begin the process of understanding what is happening to me. I won’t be able to appreciate the magnitude of this until it is over, and probably not even then.

But it is still not too early to begin healing.

So to circle back to the question I had at the beginning of this post: am I trying to bypass my difficult feelings by seeking meaning from The Great 2020 Adventure? I think yes, I was, but now that I am aware of the danger, I won’t fall into that trap again.

It’s certainly tempting to use meaning to bypass uncomfortable feelings. Holy shit, I certainly have no shortage of uncomfortable feelings these days! It’s so easy to think, if this is a meaningful experience, then I don’t need messy feelings. Why should I waste my time being sad or angry or frustrated when this experience is so rich and lush with meaning? Can’t I just shut up and be grateful and soak up the existential meaning?

I’m being humorous but also deadly serious. It is so easy to think that since sheltering-at-home is an opportunity to grow as a person, I better put on my big girl pants and stop wallowing in grief and sorrow already. In fact, I think that is what I was doing.

But finding meaning is good! It helped me heal from PPD! Ack! What should I do? Seek meaning or hang out with my feelings???

But it’s not an either/or proposition. I am starting to understand (veeeeerrrry slooooowwwly) that I can seek meaning from this experience AND still feel all the feelings.

The Unlocking Us podcast episode really struck a chord with me yesterday. because I was subconsciously trying to submerge some difficult feelings beneath a glossy sheen of meaning.

Fortunately, awareness of a problem is also often the solution to said problem.

I was sad this morning. It’s Easter Sunday and instead of taking my kids to a big family gathering, we were at home. All day. Just like yesterday. And the day before that … I felt frustrated and claustrophobic. I went on a walk. And for about twenty minutes, I listened to songs that helped me wallow in my melancholy.

Then, I felt a loosening. I sensed it was time to switch gears. I started listening to more upbeat music and by the time I got home, I felt a little better. I still felt sad but I also felt content and happy and a whole other slew of feelings.

I think I’m ready to let myself feel all my complicated contradictory feelings while still looking around for meaning and transformation. For me, it’s the best way to start healing even in the midst of a traumatic experience.

When I was pregnant with my son Julian in 2015, I knew I was at risk for postpartum depression because I previously had postpartum depression in 2013 when I gave birth to my first child. My psychiatrist and I discussed my history and agreed that it would basically take divine intervention for me to not experience a second round of postpartum depression. We decided I should start taking Zoloft as soon as practicable after giving birth. Nathan and I also hired a night nurse because sleep deprivation destroys me.

But I wanted to do more to fight back against depression, so I created a checklist of all the little things that I knew would help me. I hung this list in a place where I would see it several times every day. (Translation: right by the bathroom!)

It’s been a long time since I needed that list, but a friend recently asked me about it. I could not find the original list, but ha! I listed everything in the epilogue of my memoir. So without further adieu, these are the little things that helped me keep depression at bay:

• Write
• Sing
• Go outside
• Open the windows
• Shower
• Listen to music
• Drink tons of water
• Stretch
• Get silly with Pippa (she was two and a half at the time I made this list but hey, it still works with seven year old Pippa and four year old Julian)
• Doodle, draw, knit or craft

These are the things that help me feel like my best self. And these are the things I forgot when I had postpartum depression in 2013.

But it’s not like these activities are a magic wand that always banish depression to the seventh circle of hell. I did these things religiously and still, about three months postpartum, my insomnia kicked in. I also felt anxious for no particular reason. After a few days, I realized my hormones were sliding into PPD territory, so I called my psychiatrist and she switched my medications. Within twenty-four hours, I felt much better.

Many of us are currently living under extreme circumstances. I know there isn’t a magic wand that will eliminate my feelings. I’m working to embrace my feelings. But even as I welcome my feelings, I am hustling to keep my spirits high, and these activities still give my mood a lovely boost.

If you feel like you might be ticking off the boxes of a mental illness, please ask for help. Things like stretching and taking a shower might lift your spirits, but you are not to blame if they don’t! Mental illness is a tricky thing under the best of circumstances, and right now, most of us are living in circumstances that very few would describe as “best.”

I wrote this post recently about giving more hugs, less time outs. I am still trying to do that.

But.

My god.

There is still just so much crying. (Mostly by the kids but also by yours truly.)

Sometimes my kids are happy, even exuberant, for hours. But then the slightest little thing pushes them into the darkness and they whine, moan, grouse, grumble and wail. As I am sitting on my favorite armchair, trying to relax, I can hear Julian losing his shit over nothing.

It’s not relaxing.

It’s really tough to stay calm and patient for my kids when they keep shouting, screaming, crying and sobbing over absolutely anything and everything. I know this is their way of expressing their feelings BUT IT IS STILL DIFFICULT. It’s like trying to meditate while a siren is blasting in your ear. You can try your best to stay zen, but you are eventually going to feel a little (or extremely!) agitated.

There’s some very basic biology being activated here. Back when we were living in caves, our ancestors developed stress responses to dangers like saber tooth tigers. Fast forward to the present day. I personally have never encountered a saber tooth tiger. The stresses I am currently experiencing, e.g. the sounds of my children whining and fighting and crying while we shelter at home, do not pose a life-or-death issue.

But my body does not understand that.

No, as far as my body is concerned, stress is stress. I can handle some of the grating sounds my children produce, but when it happens again and again all day long, day after day, I feel stressed. Then my body starts to react as if there’s a saber tooth tiger crouching on a nearby boulder. Hello, cortisol!

I talked about this issue with my therapist just a few months ago before this craziness began. How can I avoid feeling like I am being attacked by a saber tooth tiger when my kids are pushing my buttons?

So far, this is what I have figured out with the help of my therapist: I feel stressed when my kids get upset and misbehave because somewhere along the line, I established an inner belief that this is a source of stress. Translation: I decided this is stressful, so my body reacts accordingly.

Then, between therapy and journaling, I had an epiphany. I can’t override my biological response to stress, but I can revise my beliefs about what is and what isn’t inherently stressful.

For example,I used to think it was a disaster if we were running late to school in the morning. If the kids were slow, or slept in, my cortisol levels would rise as I tried to rush the kids to school. But hello, that is fake stress! No one is going to die or even get the sniffles if the kids are late to school. So, I revised my belief from “we must always get to school on time” to “it is okay to be late to school.” Now, if we are running late, I shrug and roll my eyes, but I don’t feel like we are in mortal peril. (Except this example has been irrelevant for almost a month now. Shit. Sorry, I don’t have a lot of relevant examples because my regular life seems so impossibly far away.)

Before the Covid-19 crisis transformed my life, I was trying to identify sources of fake stress and revise any underlying beliefs that were creating said fake stress. But this is work I have only just begun and now, holy shit, we are sheltering at home during a pandemic. I like to refer to this as “The Great 2020 Adventure” but sometimes, I need to acknowledge the gravity of our current situation. My kids are distressed. They are expressing their feelings — frustration, grief, loneliness (they miss their friends), and probably some fear — by whining, shouting, crying, and fighting. I am doing my damned best to be compassionate and loving as they work through their feelings.

BUT IT IS TOUGH AS HELL.

And I have difficult feelings, too.

I wish I could have prepared for this in advance, but that’s the thing about living through an unprecedented moment in history: you don’t get to prepare. My kids have never been so overloaded with so many crazy feelings because they have never had their lives ripped away and put on pause for an indefinite amount of time. So I have never had to parent with kids who are ready to break at any moment, because like I said: UNPRECEDENTED MOMENT IN HISTORY.

I wish I was the sort of person who could listen to any amount of crying, whining, moaning, and shouting without feeling irritated by said soundtrack. But… who is? I remember a few years ago, there was a new kid at preschool who would cry loudly for three hours until he was picked up. This went on for weeks and one day, I noticed his teacher, talking to him patiently, but looking very aggravated. This teacher is like the patron saint of four year olds, but even she was looking ready to break from all the incessant crying. Humans are not meant to listen to crying for hours on end. That’s why babies cry: it’s fucking annoying so we do anything to comfort the baby to get the crying to stop. (And that’s why colic is a risk factor for postpartum depression.)

I don’t have a tidy clever way to end this blog post. I want to have solutions to my issues. But like everyone else, I am currently living through this UNPRECEDENTED MOMENT IN HISTORY so I am still trying to figure out my shit. Every day, every hour. But as I try to wrap up this post, I am remembering something.

When I am struggling with an issue, the first thing I need to do is pay attention to whatever is bothering me. Then I need to get curious. Once I pay attention and get curious, the wheels in my head start grinding. I start to pay more attention and get even more curious, and eventually, I figure out my issue.

Right now, I am uncomfortable. My kids are in distress, I am depleted, and I do not know how to live with all the crying, shouting, whining and moaning.

But I am going to keep paying attention to this issue and stay curious.

Eventually, I’ll figure this out.

Or, the crisis will pass and sheltering-at-home will come to a blessed end. And then, eventually, I’ll feel renewed and my kids won’t be in distress every day. Then, when my kids cry or whine, it won’t seem so awful because we won’t be living under the stress and grief of the Covid-19 crisis.

Either way, things will eventually get better.

Yesterday was a rough day. It was Day 26 of Social Distancing (one of my friends is keeping track on Instagram so when I lose track of time, that’s the first place I check!) and I felt empty.

I tried to carry on with the day and gave Pippa the manicure she has been requesting for weeks. That went well and was quite enjoyable. Then I gave Julian a matching manicure. That went well, too. Then Pippa begged to give me a manicure, and I agreed. She knocked over the teal nail polish and I tensed up. She spilled the pink nail polish on the floor and chair and I gritted my teeth. I knew I was on the edge. But I let her continue. (That was … not wise.) As she was applying the top coat, the clear finishing liquid got mixed up with the teal polish —

And I lost my shit.

I apologized and we made up. But I knew I was struggling because I am usually the mom who is fine with messes. Paint on the floor? Wipe it up! Messy clothes? Into the washing machine! Shrugging off messes is like my superpower, but yesterday, wow, it was like I was scheduled to lose my shit. ANYTHING was going to push me over the edge.

After losing my shit over my manicure, I felt prickly and hyper-irritated until the kids went to bed. Then I watched Chopped and Survivor with Nathan while knitting a scarf and slowly, my spirits improved. As I got ready for bed, I reflected on my bad mood and decided that on the morrow, I would keep my expectations really, really low. I recognized that I was feeling empty and drained, so I decided to give myself A Day of Doing As Little As Possible. I would tell the kids that mommy was available for snuggles and reading books and nothing else. I would take the day off from science experiments, baking, and messy art. I might even skip my daily walk so I could spend extra time on the couch reading The UnHoneymooners. With that plan in place, I fell into a very deep and restful sleep.

I slept seven glorious hours and then, after getting up to pee, could not get back to sleep. I lay in bed, half-dozing, half-thinking for nearly two hours, 100% certain that I was going to have a very lazy rainy Thursday. I did not get out of bed until 7:30.

As I emerged from my bedroom, I realized that I had more energy than I had anticipated. Huh. I still decided to have low, low expectations for the day. I snuggled with my kids and read them a book. All was going according to my plan.

But then: I did a little school work with Pippa; went on an hour long walk; went on another walk with the kids and Nathan to hunt down rain puddles; bathed the kids (oh, we found rain puddles!); and baked banana bread with the kids. I even managed to cross off a couple of boring items on my To Do list (register for school’s online auction; order Vitamin B; I told you they were boring).

I kept my expectations as low as possible and that felt good. I am going to try to keep that in mind as we continue through The Great 2020 Adventure. When my expectations are high, I set myself up for failure. But when I give myself permission to spend the day on the couch, then anything beyond that feels like a glorious triumph.

I am officially writing myself a blank check to take as many Do As Little As Humanly Possible days as I need to take in order to thrive during this adventure. I might never need to cash that blank check, but just knowing it’s there gives me some psychological relief.

Overall, I am doing well, but holy shit, I still frequently feel like I have hit Sensory Overload. Fighting kids, crying kids, whining kids, annoying YouTube videos being played by said whiny kids… I have to work at staying regulated and calm. (And by “calm,” I don’t mean “the way I feel after a day at the spa.” I am just aiming for “something less than homicidal.”)

These are the things that keep me feeling “something less than homicidal”:

• Cleaning and tidying the house. Only in small increments. I am not aiming for a house worthy of a magazine photo spread. But it is very satisfying to clean up small zones. I especially love the way I feel after giving the bathrooms a good scrubbing.
• Decluttering feels even more cathartic than cleaning.
• I like to move it, move it. (Sorry, not sorry.) My feelings get trapped in my body and when I take a walk or stretch, I release some of the emotional overload.
• Dancing is also great with some upbeat music. Music is the fastest way to change my mood.
• Talking to My People on the phone. A good phone call is really cathartic.
• Also texting with My People.
• Words With Friends! My sister suggested this yesterday, and it is a nice distraction.
• Posting a photo with a caption on Instagram.
• Journaling.
• Working on my fantasy novel.
• Blogging!
• Reading fun books.
• But also reading books that are inspiring. I am currently rereading The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz.
• Reading to my kids. This is good for the kids and me.
• Listening to podcasts. Brene Brown’s Unlocking Us has been especially helpful.
• Knitting and cross-stitch.
• Making art with the kids.
• Small bursts of meditation. I often do this with the Calm App but today I actually busted out my Tibetan singing bowl for five minutes and that was very therapeutic.
• Staying away from the news!
• Showering! Nathan gets me a big gift basket from Lush every year for Christmas, and I am usually pretty stingy with the products to make them last all year. Not this year! I am using every fancy bath product I have and reveling in the simple joy of a well-made shower gel.
• Getting outside as much as possible. We are on the penultimate day of a big rain system. This is the fourth day of rain? I just discussed with Nathan and we are both getting so hazy on the passage of time. But let’s say it’s the fourth day of rain. ANYWAY I have still managed to take my walk outside every day, even though I had to walk in the rain several times, and I have forced the kids outside as much as possible. Life will be easier when we get some better weather.
• Getting out for little outings like: groceries! The Starbucks drive-through! And the McDonald’s drive through! And that’s it!
• Gardening, even just watering the house plants. We are going to make planters out of milk cartons and egg cartons before this adventure is over.
• Baking with my kids. We made chocolate chip cookies yesterday. We will probably make banana bread tomorrow.
• Reading the prayers from Tosha Silver’s magnificent book Change Me Prayers.
• Just taking a quiet moment to breathe.
• Writing lists of all the things that make me feel grateful.

Just writing this list was a very calming exercise. I was feeling a bit depleted and weary, and it was inspiring to remember all the tools I have to boost my mood. And these days, I will take any inspiration I can get!

Not quite a week ago, I blogged about parenting during the Great Adventure of 2020. I wrote about how I was giving my kids time outs because it felt like the loving thing to do. Their whole world has gone topsy turvy. If I let them crap all over our rules, that might scare them even more. When I wrote that post way back on April 1 (truly, an eternity ago), I believed all the things I wrote.

But things keep changing quickly. My life has changed so much during the past four weeks, it takes my breath away. You know how Facebook Timehop shares memories from a year or decade ago? I think they should start posting memories from February and early March 2020. Holy crap, I went to an amusement park in February 2020? Twice?! I had never even heard of social distancing! Remember that corndog at California Adventure? Jesus, that was a delicious corndog.

My thoughts and beliefs also keep changing quickly during this adventure. I wrote a post about giving all the time outs necessary to enforce boundaries on April 1st; and then one or two days later, as I went to bed, a thought floated to the surface of my consciousness: What if I give more hugs than time outs? The idea seemed ridiculously important, so I grabbed my iPhone and sent myself an email with the subject line “more hugs, less time outs.” I didn’t write myself a message. I knew the subject line was enough.

The next morning, whenever I heard one of my kids getting snarly or cranky, I came over and asked if they needed a hug. They always did, and wow, the hugs usually do the trick. Voices become less whiny, fights turn into laughing fits. Since making an effort to give more hugs before sending the kids straight to time out at the slightest suggestion of an infraction (Do not pass Go! Do not collect $200!), there have been close to zero time outs in the Novak household.

I still get frustrated with my kids. It’s tough to spend all day, every day, in the same house with them. I’m an introvert who needs some solitude to feel like my best self, and true solitude is just not happening these days. I sequester myself into another room, shut the door and put on headphones to tune out the babble, but there’s always the possibility that a child will come stomping in and interrupt my writing just as I’m getting into the flow.

But as tough as this is for me, the Great Adventure of 2020 is even tougher for my kids. (Quick note: I think of sheltering at home as the adventure because that word is more uplifting to my spirits than “crisis” or “shit storm.” I don’t think of the pandemic as an adventure. It’s a fucking pandemic.)

My kids do not have all the coping mechanisms that I have for processing this adventure. They do not have a therapist; they do not write in their journals (Julian can’t even write!); shit, they do not even know any good swear words and holy shit, sometimes a girl just needs to drop the F-bomb for a moment of psychic release.

My kids do not even fully understand what is going on. Their grasp on time is tenuous at best. They want to know when we will have Pippa’s birthday party (it was supposed to be in late March), but if I tell them, Oh, maybe June, probably July, they will lose their minds. June or probably July? That’s like seven lifetimes away!

My four-year-old does not understand that in ten years, he will have only very hazy memories of this time. He might remember that for a couple of months, he got to play a lot of soccer with his dad on the front lawn. He won’t remember how much it sucked to suddenly lose his pack of preschool pals. But he’s never been 14 or 24 or 34 and just doesn’t have the perspective that age gives.

My seven-year-old does not understand that it’s better to miss the last two months of first grade than the last two months of fifth grade. She gets to go back to her elementary school next year. But the fifth graders? They are losing those final glorious months of being the kings and queens of elementary school. When they go back to school, they’ll be at some new place, at the bottom of the middle school trash heap. But Pippa does not understand that. She loves first grade, and all she knows is that the occasional Google Hangouts with her classmates is an abysmal substitute for the real thing.

So right now, I am trying to remind myself that this experience is tougher for my kids so I can have some compassion when they turn into little Tazmanian devils. They need lots and lots of hugs so that they can feel secure and cozy during this strange moment in history.

Of course, hugs are not some magical wand that turns my kids into to perfect angels. They are children and children are people and people have feelings that need to be felt and expressed. And maybe here’s the point that I have been trying to figure out whilst writing this post (because yes, writing these blog posts helps me figure shit out): when I give my children time outs for being cranky and breaking tiny rules, I am telling them that their feelings are not welcome and should be suppressed; but when I give them hugs instead, I tell them that their feelings are indeed welcome and beautiful.

OH HOLY HELL.

Yep. That’s it. I literally just figured this out mid-post. When my kids misbehave, I need to pay attention to what is happening. If they are expressing tough feelings, then I need to help them with those feelings instead of sending them to their rooms to suffer alone.

When they are jumping on the couch these days, it’s because they have energy to burn. I tell them to stop and turn on music for a dance party. If they do something super taboo, like try to swing from the ceiling fan while juggling fire, then their cute little asses need to go straight to time out.

But most of the time, their misbehavior might be annoying AF, but they are also cries for help. It’s their way of saying, Yikes! Big feelings alert! I don’t know how to cope! If I react to the minor rule violations with an automatic time out, I am missing an opportunity to connect with my kids. I am instead sending the message, Your feelings are bad so go away. That’s not a message I want to send!

And that is why, at bedtime a few nights ago, my intuition told me to favor hugs over timeout. It took me a few days, and a really long blog post to figure out why hugs are so important during this adventure, but hey, I got there in the end.

(And if you got to the end of this post, I’d like to give you a big hug when social distancing is over.)