I live with a chronic illness. So the regular smegular things people do requires extra effort from me at times. That’s just the way #Sarcoidosis works.
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This Sunday, I realize that my morning routine whether I am commuting or sheltering in place is a sprint. Then, the day then becomes a gotdamn marathon. I’m a hurdler and long jumper, so I ain’t built for any of this. Perhaps that’s the reality I am grappling with today.
When I was commuting, I was racing against the clock every morning to fight off my wavering depression, get up, get the kiddo up, let the dogs out, get the uniforms together, pack water bottle and snack bag, then make my way out the door to jump into mindboggling Houston traffic. It’s an hour long sprint that usually had me crying in the Starbucks parking lot once I finished the school run.
I remember, one morning, I ran out of energy physically and emotionally. I thought I was having another nervous breakdown. I pulled the car over, emailed my boss I would be late, then I cried in front of a gas station for 45 mins. The sprint decimated me. The harshness of the rat race depleted me. I was on fumes.
Sooooooooooo, fast forward to the pandemic. I feel myself in the sprint, again.
I barely sleep well and then it’s a race to let the dogs out, feed the puppy, pick up all the poop, get breakfast for kiddo before online school starts, wash, eat breakfast, then I work. I work and stress about COVID19 the remainder of the day. The sprint and the matathon. I feel that same intensity. That same pressure. And I am sheltered in place. …but I feel that I have to get up and do all the things, be all the things, just to survive.
And there is no where to go and cry. I tried hiding in the bathroom. You have 20 mins before a kid or dog will find you.
So I Sprint. I am sprinting to survive. I need my job. I am trying to give my kid the best education. I need to monitor my health. I must manage the upkeep of the house. It’s down to me to fix the repairs. I must find time to be creative. I just want to take time to love everything. It’s just me as head chef, so I must cook the food. Wash all the laundry. Declutter. Decorate.
When all I want to do sometimes is just have a tender moment where I can just “be”. Where there is no noise except the voices in my head and the birds chirping loudly. Where I can just exist in my beautiful skin and there is no pressure, no deadline, nothing looming on the calendar. It’s just me, air, sun light, sounds of nature and being in the now.
I don’t want to sprint all the time. I want to pace myself for a long cross-country race, where I win at the end. Right now, I am sprinting and I feel like on all fronts, I am losing the race.