Clearly, February was not a month for writing. Or meditating really, if I am honest. I think for a lot of February I was just working on surviving, and while it is a bummer that I didn’t stay within the practices that serve me the most in those efforts, I am just gonna go ahead and forgive myself from the get-go and move the fuck along.
In part, shit got busier in late January. Chris moved into a new position at work which means double the workload and a return to travel- for the first time in two years. Um, obviously? And the team that we once were when pops is on the road is bigger by one and we have not quite gotten our legs under us as a new older (and younger) team of 4. Work-wise, it is a great move for Chris and I am thrilled for him. It is just going to take a little bit of acclimation for all of us and probably a year of Chris adapting and expanding into his new role. I am ok with both.
Of course, the first time that he was away we had some massive mental health stuff explode in our new squad of four. It was a long time coming and clearly just awaiting the perfect storm and I guess that week was that. Much of the month was spent navigating that- which of course is deeply sensitive and personal and not for sharing here, at least not at this moment in time. The main thrust I suppose is that life was a lot, both in our little family and, quite clearly, in the world at large.
It was good to get away for a few weeks. Out of the snow and into the warm sunshine. All of our bodies got some color for the first time in what feels like forever, and that in itself feels like life and health in a way that seems so basic and fundamental and, for me at least, so necessary. That part was great. It was all of the adjusting to new circumstances that was confusing and hard to navigate. It seems that on a macro level, we are re-orienting to the fact that our hopes of a definitive end to the pandemic are fantasy and that now the task is in learning how to live along with Covid-19 for the foreseeable future. Mask mandates are lifting and life seems to be asking us to resolve our differences and get on with it already. It doesn’t mean I don’t still think you are an asshole for not getting vaccinated, but I am no longer interested in thinking about it, let alone talking about it. I am ready to stop masking my family unless we are unwell and I am ready to begin hanging out with my neighbors.
So, on my level, this need to adjust is running deep. While we were away, and I had access to the help and support of my family, Wilfred was unable to tolerate anyone’s care but my own. It was real, and it was a lot. Time away turned into time on and even more all mom all the time vibes. He has separation anxiety like I never experienced in Maple or Eider. And I suppose it makes sense. His life has been so rhythmic and regular and insular in a way that theirs never was. Limited when theirs was wide. And shamefully, I have to admit, that there was a part of me that thought this level of anxiety in littles had more to do with some fault in parenting, and while some of that may hold true, it seems that other than adverse circumstances, it is far more random than that.
I am tired. And my family needs connection. And some kind of larger support and integration. I am ready for that. Even if it means that it is time to up our risk and exposure in order to form bonds that buoy us more than my own will.
All of this, in my small sphere, running inside the larger framework of the world as it continues to unravel and Ukrainians brace themselves against the will of Russian Authoritarianism. As they are invaded and asked to either evacuate or pick up arms, I keep on thinking of how much separation anxiety we all carry. On one level or another. I listened to an interview of a Ukrainian doctor and father speak to why he and his family decided not to leave while they were still able. And he asked: how can you decide, in 10 minutes, to leave your life? everything that you have ever known, that your children have ever known, and go into a world where you have nothing and no one? How do you make that decision? How do you do that? It seems to me, that the most natural thing in the world is to stay in connection with what makes us feel most safe and most seen, to live inside the context of who we are and what we know home to be. So what then is the move when home becomes a war zone? How do we make the choice to leave home for something that may be more life-giving if the only life we have ever known lives inside of a culture and a people and a land and a country?
I have no answers. And maybe, as it turns out, no point in any of this other than simply musing and efforting as best I can to put one word in front of the other and in so doing come up for a breath from my own deep well of living and mothering. I am here. And it is imperfect as ever. It seems these past weeks and months and years have been an ongoing ebb and flow of living a life of practice, in which it is the time outside of any formality of effort that I am proven time and again and reminded why I care or why I try or why I hope, over and over again.
I keep thinking there will be a time when I have more time for myself again. Where I can fill my cup way up and have so much more to give by virtue of my own fullness. Runneth over as they say. But just this morning Chris said that perhaps we should be gathering support in case of potential radiation exposure and I just had to lay my head down on the table because I think that may be more true than the hope of some flimsy return of me time. I think that the hits may really just keep coming. And that I can either buckle and suffer under the weight of that, or I can brighten from within in a new way. Suffering still, of course. But full of some greater strength and expectation inside. As in Now is the time. What am I waiting for anyway?
And before I go, because really, who knows when I will sit down to write anything next, I still think that one of the best things that we can do is make donations to the groups and organizations rallying to help and make a difference where they can. I am still donating 15% of my Beautycounter commissions on Fridays to a different organization each month. March giving is going to Save the Children, who provide aid for “children in Ukraine, Afghanistan and around the world who might be caught in the middle of armed conflict, forced to flee their homes, and exposed to injury, hunger, and sub-zero temperatures”. As ever if you want to donate directly, please do, and if you want to grab some essentials for yourself, I am happy to redirect cash on your behalf.
Thanks for being here. I love you. I think I may have something more hopeful to write soon. So please come back.