I’ve been having trouble sleeping this past week – a week that just happens to have coincided with my kids returning to in-person school after 18 months (I originally typed ‘
“years” instead of months and was like, “Yes, brain, I know.”). It also coincides with my period starting which, being 45 and perimenopausal, is now an Event with a capital E, that includes, in addition to insomnia, night sweats, daytime hot flashes, and the kind of crushing fatigue that is reminiscent of the first trimester of pregnancy. Fun!
Anyway, I’ve had trouble sleeping, but I did get a few hours last night, during which I had a dream that my family was on vacation, staying at an AirBnb on a beach, and my kids were playing in the surf when, all of a sudden, the sky got dark, the waves grew by about 10 times, and actual alarms went off signaling a storm’s imminent arrival and alerting everyone to get out of the water and seek shelter. So, I guess it’s safe to say that I am having some feelings about my unvaccinated kids being on packed subways and in crowded classrooms as we wait to see what kind of impact Delta will have in schools over the next few weeks. Fortunately, there’s a lot of positive stuff to help balance out and temper the anxiety, and during my waking hours I try to focus on those things. (The kids are happy! They’re making friends! I have peace and quiet again to think and do work and just be – it’s wonderful!).
I suspect many of you are feeling something similar, especially if you have young kids at home. Or maybe you don’t, but you’re experiencing whatever it’s called when you’ve had to make big adjustments to your life and it’s been 18 months and you’re wondering when when when things can be normal again. Or maybe you already feel normal again, and that’s cool, too. Wherever you are on on this spectrum of processing the collective trauma we’ve experienced, and adjusting to a path this fall that is probably different than we expected it would be, I hope you are finding moments of joy, too, and reasons to feel positive and optimistic.
Have a great weekend, and here are some links you might enjoy:
As a parent of two children not yet eligible for Covid vaccination, I found this pretty relatable: Why Covid Has Broken Parents’ Sense of Risk: Every decision for not-yet-vaccinated kids feels like an unsolvable equation.
Would you (or do you) schedule fights with your partner? Apparently, there’s some benefit to this strategy…
My friend, Sarah Brown, makes candle-reviewing a freaking art form (so funny and spot-on in her sensory descriptions). I’m totally ordering this Steakhouse candle from Tuesday of California based solely on her review – “I want to walk into a room that smells like this and nuzzle whoever is inside. I want to smell it, I want to eat, I want to hump it, I want to live inside it for a bit. I need to order another one of these already because I know it’ll be in heavy rotation this fall.” (Tuesday of California, send Sarah some complimentary candles if you haven’t yet!). Might have to also check out the candle called “Smoking Weed in Grandma’s Basement” for the hell of it, too, because come on with this product description: “Influenced by Tuesday’s midwestern roots, this summer aroma will bring you back to being a teenage delinquent, but ~*refined*~. Notes: Summer sweat, olive green shag carpet, lumpy tweed sofa, wood panelling, apple pipe, and ditch weed.”
This is kind of interesting: How finger counting gives away your nationality
Jazzmin Johnson was five years into her relationship when anxiety hit, and she sought out therapy — but when her therapist floated the idea that she might need to “find herself,” Johnson began to spiral. “A few hours later, I remember a thought popping into my head of ‘What if you do need to find yourself? What if you need to leave your boyfriend to find yourself?’” she says. Johnson didn’t want to leave her relationship, but she couldn’t shake the thought that she might have to. Doubt turned into obsession, which turned into a compulsive search for certainty, which in turn kept her stuck in the obsessive-compulsive cycle. Soon, Johnson’s therapist diagnosed her with OCD.