“Your only goal is to arrive.” ~Paul Ollinger

Dear Universe,

Well, here we are, week 6? 7? 8? of quarantine.

If I looked at a calendar, I could figure it out, but truthfully even the days on the calendar are starting to look like one, big, continuous block, rather than neatly divided squares.

I digress. So here we are, on a Wednesday? Thursday? and we don’t know when life will resume some type of normalcy, maybe soon, maybe weeks or months from now. I feel we’re all starting to go a little or a lotta stir crazy.

But I feel it’s important to write and to document this time somehow. After all, this blog has become an online journal of sorts. On here, I’ve written about valuable life lessons, my travels around the world, and momentous occasions—like becoming a mom. The blog has captured snapshots for the last eight and a half years of my life and it brings me joy to have it, to be able to look back at it and remember where I’ve been, and how far I’ve come.

So I should write about this, right? I mean someday I may want to remember this bizarre time too… I guess?

So here’s what I know.

I see a lot of people—mostly on social media—kicking ass in the quarantine. They’re doing at home workouts, learning a new language, organizing closets, home schooling their children, baking loaves of bread, painting, feng shuing their home, taking virtual cooking classes, having Zoom game nights and cocktail parties, sewing masks to distribute, and having romantic, candlelit date nights in their garage or attic while the kids pretend to be the wait staff (yes, I have seen each of these things).

Then there’s me.

I’m basically just trying to get through each day without losing my mind.

I’m working from home, as is David, and Bennett, of course, is too young to understand what any of this means. Each day feels like a chaotic juggle of trying to maintain a semblance of sanity in between a flurry of virtual teaching, meetings, calls, mixed in with playing, entertaining, cooking and some days—waiting until a socially (distant) acceptable time to pour a drink.

Just being honest.

I’ve baked… brownies, cake and banana bread. I’ve cooked more breakfasts, lunches and dinners while managing grocery deliveries from an app.

I’ve missed properly celebrating eight birthdays of close family and friends (this includes Bennett’s second birthday). I’ve sang Happy Birthday on FaceTime instead of face-to-face, and popped champagne and lit birthday candles in driveways instead of crowded around a kitchen table.

It all just feels so bizarre and weird. The roads aren’t as busy, everyone is wearing masks, and keeping six feet apart.

And there’s still not enough toilet paper to go around.

But despite this strange, new reality, I recognize how very privileged and lucky we are to have a home to quarantine in, to have jobs that allow us to work from home, and that our families are healthy and safe. No matter how crazy each day gets, I always lean towards gratitude and a few deep breaths.

Don’t get me wrong.

I’m glad for the people who have become quarantine all-stars. It’s inspiring to see. And it makes me happy to watch people I admire making the most of their time at home. It fills me with hope that we can come out on the other side of this with new insights and renewed energy.

And despite feeling like the day-to-day is blurring with each day of the week bleeding into the next, I do know I’ve also been doing a lot of meditating, praying, reflecting, and things are shifting for me.

But for those of you out there who are just getting by, or are taking it day by day, I salute you too. These aren’t ordinary times. This is a worldwide crisis none of us have experienced before.

It’s okay if you don’t have the mental capacity, physical energy, time or desire to learn the guitar, take an online course or write the novel you’ve been dreaming of. (Read that again if you need to.)

The days are long. The news is bleak. Our thoughts and emotions change by the hour. Some days are fine; others aren’t. Some days are a recipe of drudgery, loss, anxiety, anger, grief and frustration, while others feel more hopeful. All of it is so unpredictable.

So, cheers to the small victories. You got out of bed? Great! You changed into different sweats? High-five! You managed to take a walk around the block? You’re doing amazing. Truly.

Don’t worry if you’re not doing enough; living through this time is enough. Staying healthy is enough. Being alive and present is enough.

Surviving is more than enough.

The rest are just details.

With Gratitude,