Okay.

It’s day three of the 21-day lockdown (which, by the way, I fully anticipate being extended beyond 21 days, so refuse to put my hopes into a countdown) and I find myself going from okay to  not okay and back again multiple times a day; multiple times an hour, even.

I woke up to the sun shining in my windows this morning; this always gets me out of bed quicker with a sense of optimism for the day.  Okay.

I sip my coffee on the patio, my Jay pacing around me, back and forth, a high-pitched whine every other breath or so coming from him, unable to understand why we’re not going on our usual morning jog.  I think about the fact that a few weeks ago I was so excited and sure this was going to be my marathon year; something I’ve always wanted to do but life prevented, until now.  I’m registered and everything, so committed to this goal…. Not okay.

I have a lovely chat with a friend, whom I haven’t talked to in years, but have a shared history and it’s so nice to be heard, understood, and have the time to invest in reconnecting with others.  Okay.

I organized my pantry, freezer, refrigerator, and kitchen cupboards. I made some really delicious soup, and plan to make bagels soon. Okay.

I took out my anxiety on my flower beds yesterday; ripping and pulling and piling and pruning away all the creeping weeds choking the plants I love, and destroying all that awful rosemary the person who lived here before me must have loved.  I was sweaty and it was sunny and it felt great. Okay

And when I was all done pulling and piling and pruning, I sat in the yard and cried. Not okay.

I video chatted with my mom for the first time, it was awesome. Okay

I’m excited to have space and time to really focus on some work projects, and I feel the difference the lack of work stress has had on my body in the last few days. Okay.

I scroll through the increasingly depressing news headlines, wondering at what our future holds.  I think about my own privilege, that which is causing me the most grief is the losses of experiences few on the planet will ever get to have. It’s realizing that this uncertainty, this wondering at the future, what it looks like and how all this out of our control will affect what little we can control; the people in Syria live with that uncertainty every day.  And in Palestine, and in Yemen, and in millions of other homes, towns, and regions across the globe.  And what do I do with that? Not okay.

I know I’m not alone in this; nearly everyone I talk to identifies the fact that we're all on the spectrum between okay and utter despair, or fear, or grief, or doubt, or lonely, or anxiety, or whatever else big feel happens to be at the front of the pack at that moment in time.  The world looks very different to the one we knew; and sometimes that can feel overwhelming.  But also, I’ve done hard things before, and I’ll do more hard things in the future, and someday this will be that one thing that happened that one time.  And until then, I’m going to look forward to that first hike, first jog, first dinner out with friends once the lockdown is lifted; I’m going to focus on what I can control instead of what I can’t, and seek out and enjoy the benefits of a slower pace of life.  One of which is a much improved flower garden.

There were more plants in the garbage pile than in the garden once I was finished! (it was embarrassingly bad...)