The Day the Pandemic Broke Me

Thursday September 17th, 2020- that is the day this pandemic broke me. 

I laid on the floor next to my bed sobbing- the kind of crying where the tears are coming so fast you can't catch your breath. It was hard enough to make my way upstairs so that I didn't worry my sons, but I couldn't even make it to the actual bed. I collapsed right next to it.

My husband rubbed my back as he sat beside me. I could tell by the look on his face, with his eyebrows pushed together and his mouth in a straight line, he was worried about me. He should've been- I was worried about me too. 

I Can't Do This... It's Every Day

He asked what was wrong and I didn't even know how to answer. It was nothing, it was everything all at the same time. I can't remember what sent me over the edge. It was probably something small. 

I kept repeating "I can't do this... it's every day" over and over and over. Even though those were only seven words, they had so much more behind them.

I can't keep my house clean, it is a disaster every day.

I can't fight with our son about staying on task, it is a struggle I have with him every day. 

I can't watch my children watch a screen, I see the lifelessness in their eyes every day. 

I can't be so crowded and so alone at the same time. I have no personal space, no break, no quiet. I can barely squeak in an adult conversation every once in a while. That makes me feel isolated. I'm overwhelmed every day. 

I can't give everyone what they need- multiple times two or three or four people need my attention at the exact same moment. It happens every day.

I can't keep feel like a failure- not getting everything accomplished, constantly feeling behind, spreading myself thin to all the people who need my support and love. I'm exhausted every day. 

I can't lose my individual identity, I feel it slipping away every day. 

My sobs and repeated words were the unloading of a buildup that was coming for a long time- certainly for weeks, but maybe even for months.

Those feelings I was having- overwhelmed, impatient, stretched-thin, exhausted were all real and valid and so "on-brand" for the times of this pandemic. I've heard of people feeling this way over and over again; a completely normal way to feel right now. What wasn't normal was my despair, my desperation, my inability to control my big feelings. 

That day, September 17th, 2020, was the day I realized I needed to change something. 

What I Did When the Pandemic Broke Me

I started the ball rolling for me to get back into therapy that very day.   

Therapy has helped me TREMENDOUSLY over the years in my struggling anxiety and perfectionism. When my therapist retired almost three years ago, I had built up many tools and strategies. I could take care of myself when things felt out of control. I could help deescalate myself when I was feeling overwhelmed. I learned to give myself grace when the impossibly high standards I set for myself made me feel not good enough. 

All those tools and strategies went straight down the toilet with my alone time and grasp of normalcy when the pandemic swept in this past spring. I should've known I'd end up here- needing to get back into taking care of myself, needing to brush up on those tools. I kept putting it off thinking I was handling it, thinking I was balancing it all. I wasn't, I haven't been.

Six Weeks Later

I'm here to tell you that almost six weeks after the pandemic officially broke me, I am relearning how to give myself grace. I am relearning how to connect with my emotions. I am relearning how to make myself a priority again.

These things take time and effort both of which I will gladly give and make space for even though it's really hard to do that right now. I know how important it is for a parent, spouse, and friend to take care of herself so that she can give love and support to others. I had quit doing that. Throughout these more than seven months, I was giving, giving giving, and never spending any time working on and taking care of me. September 17th, 2020 told me that enough was enough and I listened. 

I share this because if you feel more isolated, more angry, more impatient right now-you are not alone. If you feel like you are a new level of exhausted as you constantly take care of others and never yourself- you are not alone. If you feel you are losing your own identity because a lot of what gives you balance and joy feel impossible to do with a house full of kids or more responsibilities than you're used to- you are not alone. 

My boys deserve a better me than I've been sharing lately. My husband deserves it too. But who deserves it more than all the rest is me. I deserve a better me. I am really glad I made a small step to focus on just myself once a week for fifty minutes. It's small, but it's something. I slowly feel like I'm getting some of me back. I look forward to continuing...