Desperately Seeking Sanity

While grief is not a topic we prefer to talk about, now more than ever, it is a piece of our reality. We are mourning normalcy, human connection, touch, travel, simply the lack of freedom to do what we want, when we want. We are grieving the American Dream; to be successful, using resources to make everything happen and education. We are sad. IT IS NORMAL.

And in the same breath, we are altering our lives to define happiness. We are taking these changes in stride, asking for more grace, putting others ahead of ourselves, finding new ways to connect to those outside of our home, our faith and Mother Nature. And we are all doing this at our own pace.

We are not in the same boat, we are in the same storm. 

Reality is, we are weathering the storm at different stages. Some are just being hit, while some are in the eye. Others are finding their cadence rowing toward the outer band. Some are fighting for their lives, while others are inconvenienced.

Full transparency, you can say my family is somewhere right before the eye. We haven't quite figured out the balance. A full-time essential worker and a full time non-essential worker. Education for our kids. Toddler life. Cooking, cleaning/disinfecting, yard work, fiddling with the new grocery shopping, laundry. FOR THE LOVE OF LAUNDRY.

Today, I felt a little of the old normal creep in. I suspect it was because I took the day off to be the teacher and caregiver for my family and could focus on just that. We hit the road. Just me and my boys. We went on field trip to Winterset, Iowa to talk about the early settlers, John Wayne, covered bridges, and find nature.

The Duke. Making $%!+ look cool since the 1900s.

Winterset, Iowa

Bridge Dancers

My babies.

Amazed by the architecture.

We took off walking. Within a couple hours, we had trekked nearly 4 miles. It was worth every step, every hard beat of an over-worked, out of shape heart with a 30lb baby on my shoulders. Anxiety started to creep in the last mile. I was alone in the wilderness with my two babies - and not a single person in sight. I forced those insecurities to the side and encouraged my boys and myself to focus on our senses. Smells, environment, sounds - it was grounding.

Are we there yet? 

how can it be up hill, both ways? 

We made it!

Ethan, age 8.75.

Walking sticks = swords.

Brotatoes.

Joe Cool.

The captain and Mr. Smee.

We are taking the steeper trail down.

Reminder, that small victories are needed
and sadness happens, too.

Almost there. Someone refused to walk. I was dying.

I am grateful for an employer that offers flexibility. My health. My family. I am hopeful, not afraid, but ready as I'll ever be to see how this all pans out the next few months. To all you riders of the storm, hang in there.  Process each emotion as it comes along. IT IS NORMAL. Don't forget to lean on your people. We all need a little more love from each other.