Yesterday began week five of social distancing, and to be honest, it has been kicking my ass. And it's not that I didn't expect it to - I know that I'm dependent on my humans. My friends and family are literally my main source of joy. After a long day, they wake me up with their ridiculousness, and feed me with stuff I could never cook on my own. And when my soul is drained, they feed that too. My biggest coping skill for anxiety? Going to a friends house. Literally just getting in the car and showing up. I knew "social distancing" would be tough for me.
So I got books, coloring sheets, movies, puzzles...anything to pass the time and entertain myself. And the days are passing, and I'm healthy, and life is good. I am beyond grateful for that. But you know that warm and fuzzy feeling that comes from a friend...calling you just to say hi, or saying "I love you" on the anniversary of a loss, or knowing that you usually drink red, but when you're sad you only drink white? I live for that feeling. And these last few weeks I haven't felt it nearly enough.
And that's the part that sucks.
When Dobby dies in the seventh book? Tears.
When McConaughey meets Kate Hudson on the bridge with the love-fern? Mascara trails.
And when Gerry Bertier tells Alice that Julius Campbell is his brother? I'm down for the day.
But in real life? I'm usually more of a steady human than these last four weeks would lead someone to believe.
Over the last twenty nine days, I have watched ten movies, read five books, thrown three bags of old clothing into my trunk, painted my nails twice, redecorated my room, learned how to make Alfredo sauce, and facetimed somewhere around 100 times. It's the last part that's definitely most important. Out of all of my lady-friends from high school, seven of them have moved out of Massachusetts. SEVEN. First of all, why has it taken a pandemic for us to start weekly video calls? But also, why do these video calls make my heart more sore? The very connection that usually warms my whole being is on a now-regular basis making me sad, and I don't get it.
The thing is, I know myself, like, really well. Part of what helped me tame my anxiety the last couple of years was learning more about myself. I know that I won't remember anything unless I write it down while you're saying it, I pick arguments when I need extra love, I cannot pay attention to what's on tv unless I'm doing at least two other things, my Enneagram type is a 2, I feel closer to someone knowing what their favorite kind of apple is, my love language is quality time, my biggest pet peeve is when someone doesn't answer me....
I make it a point to know as much as possible about myself and those around me, because it physically relieves my anxious feelings. Feeling sad is not something that I think I've ever been able to sit with. And during this time? Feeling sad right now frankly just makes me feel ungrateful.
I can't say that I'm a fan of any of this.
So today I sat in on a webinar that discussed how our grumpy brains literally gain oxytocin when they are around other grumpy brains - that's why misery loves company. About an hour in, in reference to Covid-19, the speaker said, "we are on a social connection diet, and its effects are unbelievable." He talked about our starvation for connection, and the resulting increase in communication, juxtaposed with the strains this very same communication is causing - people are speaking to each other more, but feeling less heard than ever.
He spoke of using this time to not only better understand ourselves, but to start using styles of communication we don't typically use - like brushing your teeth left-handed. Except, in this situation, when I wake up and want to go back to brushing with my right hand, it's broken. Forced left-handedness.
It's bullshit.
So here's my Carrie Bradshaw moment...As I sit here and write this, I can't help but wonder, how can I strengthen something that I didn't even know was a weakness?
So this is what I've come up with today. For the past few weeks I've been writing little notes to myself. Except rather than my usual to-do lists, they are notes of gratitude. I do it on my whiteboard at home, on my instagram story, in texts to friends, anywhere I can. I refuse to ever call this a blog, because my friends will just make fun of me, but this writing is just another version of that same grateful expression. I need to wipe the dust off and stretch out my soul a little bit, in ways that make me uncomfortable. I need to brush my teeth with my left hand, remind myself that life is okay, and find joy in knowing that one day I will have those warm and fuzzies with my humans again.
So, maybe I've been reading The Players Tribune and The Betches Sup a little too much over the past few weeks. And if you combine that with the Merlot I've been buying that's a bit out of my regular price range, you can see where this idea came from. I in no way see myself as Carrie Bradshaw, and I don't even know if anyone will read my words (apart from the five friends that promised they would...). Honestly, though, I need to feel that I am connecting, and I need to feel that I am stretching my heart to others, so hopefully when this is over, I'm a better person than I was going in.
So on day 30 of not going to work, here I am thinking: Should I start a blog...or am I just bored? Frankly, for me the answer to both of those questions is yes.
And next time I see my humans...I'm a hugger now, I can tell.
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