It is the first week of May and normally, I would already have a good idea of what our summer was going to be like. Actually, I had it all planned out months ago, in January: a long weekend in Las Vegas for our annual reunion with my dad’s extended family; then a few weeks of summer camp for the kids; Fourth of July week in Nebraska; and then more camp for the kids. Somewhere in there, we would have a couple of free weeks as well for lazy mornings and fun outings.

Unfortunately, that thing we call “normal” left the station weeks ago.

Las Vegas is not happening. We have decided that after all we have been through, it would be irresponsible to visit a destination like Vegas. Plus, most of our relatives already said they are not going. It’s not much of a family reunion if your family is not there.

Nebraska is also not happening unless things change dramatically. We just do not feel comfortable flying and then exposing not only ourselves but our extended families to Covid-19 germs.

Summer camp is the big wild card. Pippa was registered to attend two different camps. Camp #1 cancelled its entire summer program a couple of weeks ago. Camp #2 is still apparently all systems go… but that could change at any moment. Julian is slated to attend summer camp at his preschool, but who knows when schools will be allowed to reopen.

I am getting a lot of practice at living with uncertainty.

It’s not easy. It’s not comfortable. But I do not have much choice in the matter, do I?

My brain wants to plan ahead. That’s not my fault. It’s biology! Our cave ancestors had to plan ahead to make sure they had enough to eat and did not get eaten by a saber tooth tiger. Shit, even squirrels plan ahead! That’s why they bury nuts — they are saving up for winter. If squirrels are planning for winter, then of course I am going to have some biological instinct to plan for summer.

For me, planning ahead is generally an act of self care. I have to write or I lose my sense of self. I learned that the hard way when I was committed to a psychiatric hospital for postpartum depression. A turning point in my recovery was when I finally set pencil to paper and started to write. I can miss a few days of writing from time to time, but I have learned to plan for my writing time to make sure I feel like my most authentic radiant self.

But right now, planning ahead more than the current week feels like a special kind of torture. It reminds me of all the things we have lost. It’s a bit like rubbing an open wound. Just don’t do it!

My biological instincts are sound. If I was a squirrel, I’d have the best damn acorn hoard possible for winter. But now I am living in a situation that is forcing me to live with great uncertainty. And this is what I have noticed so far: when I resist the uncertainty generated by Covid-19, I feel shitty; when I surrender and live in the current week, and accept that I do not have control over all the variables of my life, I feel okay — even, I dare say, great.

This is something magical about being human. The squirrel is going to keep racing around, burying acorns, no matter what its circumstances. But I am not a squirrel. I can pay attention and get curious about my thoughts and feelings. I can connect the dots: trying to plan for Summer 2020 makes me feel anxious and bitter; surrendering to the uncertainty feels better.

And then.

The magic happens.

I can decide to override my biological instinct to plan ahead and surrender to the uncertain flow of life.

I am trying to do this during the pandemic. Some days I am more successful than others. But even on successful days, I have to make a conscious decision to override my desire to plan again and again and again, because damn, my tendency to plan is basically mingled with my marrow and blood.

But I can do it. Slowly, persistently, and patiently. I can change the way I think. I’ll stop feeling the urge to plan for Summer 2020 several times a day (okay, by “several,” I mean “several hundred”). Eventually, I’ll just think about Summer 2020 every few days, and I’ll quickly release my desire to have solid plans for the months ahead.

Unlike the squirrel, I can change my thoughts to help me get better with uncertainty.

And since uncertainty is one of the few certainties of life, that might not be such a bad thing to learn during The Great 2020 Adventure.