4-6 Weeks

Now that many of us have been in this quarantine for over a month, I feel a shift in the way we're operating. It's not the best shift. The grace and forgiveness that flooded our veins in the beginning of this when we were all figuring out our "new normal" has started to subside. I'm not saying people are being less helpful or kind, but we're ramping up our expectations of normalcy. We are sure that it's time for things to be OK (whether or not they indeed are).

Some of this is evidenced by states and localities who are planning to open up despite evidence that this is unwise. Some of this I see in work places when folks are now expected to go back to their usual work load (or be able to increase it), as if now is the time when we should have this work-from-home thing figured out. (Thank God not my work place, but I have friends who are back to the grind times ten!) Some of this I see in ourselves, where before we said "it's OK, I can be gentle with myself in this time," we are now saying "well, I really should have this figured out by now, why am I so stupid?"

I don't know what the science or sociology is behind all of this, but I suspect that there is something empirical about 4-6 weeks as the amount of time humans expect to adjust and be back in business. I wonder if this has anything to do with how long we expect mothers to be able to adjust before rejoining the work force, as 4-6 weeks is often the amount of maternity leave offered (if they are lucky enough to be given the time and rejoin). That time frame is also a pretty common time given for healing from surgeries or broken/sprained body parts. About 4-6 weeks after a death, we find it sort of uncomfortable if someone is still raw with grief. Again- maybe the science is against me on this, but I have a feeing there are some correlations between that time-frame and our patience level for adjustment.

After 4-6 weeks, no matter what is actually happening, something in our brain says "This should feel normal now, all unrealistic expectations are invited to return!"

We're at that mark, when folks are antsy, what was good-enough is now not. What was reasonable is now ridiculous. What was above-expectations is now sub-par. But here's the problem: just like a mother in week 6 postpartum, we're not fully adjusted. We're not fully healed.

Also, I don't think we're ever supposed to be fully adjusted to a pandemic. Just sayin.

So instead of being fully-adjusted and completely ready to move into this new way of being, we're actually losing it. We're less adjusted because what we've really been doing is holding our breath. We've been holding it as long as we could, still functioning and moving around, but knowing that it was weird. We've just all finally broken and taken a collective breath of pandemic and I think all of us just went "OH Hell no. This cannot be what it is."

So we close our eyes and walk off a cliff.

Sorry, no, I mean, we close our eyes and just imagine that it is in fact, normal. That this is all fine, we are fine, you are fine, it's FINE. And in order to fuel our collective delusion, we just will normalcy into being. I am now fully functional, and so are you. So help me God, or I have to open my eyes to see the truth.

I believe that there is a new normal in all of this, but we're not there yet. It's going to take a little longer, and it's OK if you are not feeling OK yet. It's going to take a lot longer than 4-6 weeks. We are doing good work, we have made lots of adjustments. Now we need to give ourselves some time to adjust to the adjustments.

It's OK if this is still hard, or actually harder.

Sleep Is Special

First: I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person in my entire life. I had to be woken up every Christmas, and nearly always would have chosen more sleep if I was given the choice.

This morning my husband shakes me awake around 730am. This is not a terrible time to be awake, but in our quarantine time, my night owl tendencies have increased (bed by midnight if I'm lucky) and sleeping in has become a pastime rather than a luxury (up and at em by 9am, maybe).

He asks me: "Would you mind getting Luna (our St. Bernard who is whining to pee)? I've been up in the night with Kenzie (our storm-fearing shitzu-yorkie mix who barks at thunder), and I'd love to try to get some sleep."

Me, the loving wife I am: "huh?"

He repeats himself and I am now slightly more cogent and respond "yeah, sure."

I woke up, let the beast out and fed her. She falls immediately back to sleep on the couch and I can't go back upstairs for fear that Luna will suddenly wake up and then wake the sleeping house. I decided that it is a lovely time to be awake and I shall enjoy this peaceful morning! No one is awake, I can drink my coffee, eat my breakfast at leisure, and enjoy playing some word games on my phone. Delightful! I should do this more often! It's like getting an extra hour with no obligations!

My youngest comes down, looks at me in shock and asks why I'm up (even at 830, it's a valid question). I chat with him, we look at his birthday wish list, and it is a lovely time.

Once the rest of the house starts waking up, I make my way back upstairs to shower, get the laundry running, do little odds and ends before I start another weird day of work-from-home-in-a-ministry-job.

I'm thinking, maybe I should really try this morning thing!

1130am. I've done some work, I've run the dishwasher and *boom*. I remember why I don't start the day so early.

It's 1145am and I'm ready for my nap. I fixed myself tea to try to hold it off. And now I'm typing this because I'm entertaining myself and trying to stay awake. My eyes are dazed. I feel that feeling like when you move your head from side to side and the room is delayed. You know what I mean? Your vision and brain aren't as fast. It's like when the sound is a second or two after the mouth moves. You think I'm exaggerating, but this is my body on less sleep (which admittedly is enough for 95% of people, me excluded).

This is not a pleasant feeling for me. I don't like fuzzy brain and loopy eyes. I don't like looking down the barrel of a full day into the night when I finally get to sleep again. I don't want to muscle through and get used to that feeling for one or two measly "free" hours in the morning. It's not that special.

Sleep is special.

I'm going to sleep in tomorrow.