I've had a hard time finding the right words to share, over the last 12 months. What normally flows so naturally from my inner monologue has been somewhat silenced. I can't put my finger on why.
I feel like I’ve been playing an endless game of twister.
I spent the first few months of the pandemic feeling
motivated and empowered to sustain positivity in my thoughts and words.
I was scared.
I mean, who wasn't?
It was all so new and outrageous. An actual pandemic? A lockdown? What?
But it was happening whether we liked it or not.
By the summer I was fatigued, but re-energized by the
sunshine, slower days and time spent in nature. I read more, laughed more and
even though I struggled to make decisions I was relatively calm and confident.
The game was getting old, but I was still playing it and encouraging my kids to
find fun as the spinner kept spinning away, beyond our control.
Fall came.
I felt 75% normal. I was worried about back to school and
term but I felt like we could handle it. It was a relief to see the kids act
like kids, again. I had the energy to greet them with a smile and hug away the
worst parts of their day.
The continual pivots at work were slowing. Difficult, but
manageable.
Twisting and turning, tired but focused.
Then holidays approached.
I meticulously planned ahead. Worried more than I should
have about everyone else's feelings and complaints. Felt a new level of
exhaustion and began dragging my butt out of bed. Noticed I needed the kids'
hugs more than they needed mine.
It wasn’t the same, but we made the absolute most of it.
We celebrated.
Toasted.
Made new memories and found joy.
Rested. Relaxed. Read.
The moment the calendar flipped to 2021, I felt a renewed
sense of optimism. I was hopeful for a better year. I felt more positive and ready
to face whatever was coming next. I set goals!
That lasted a whopping two weeks.
The second lockdown drained my last reserves, and those of
my kids. The game’s been going on too long. Too many twists, too many turns, too
many things out of our control.
We are weary. Deflated.
Sensitive.
Hypersensitive actually.
Each family member requests hugs, but are often too tired to
give them.
We make ‘big’ plans, then struggle to accomplish them.
We cry a lot. All of us.
The game is not fun anymore.
I am burnt out.
Playing twister for a year.
Every move more
exhausting than the last.
Intertwined with my kids' fluctuating emotional waves.
And my own.
The odd
giggle and fit of laughter.
Trying so, so hard to keep it fun and positive.
Truth be told, I am absolutely sore, weak and tired of playing.
There's no time for parents to tend to their own needs.
Don't tell me to take care of myself!
(Lord knows I am trying)
I am busy pouring every ounce of myself into the act of holding my kids steady.
Cheering them on.
Holding it allllllll together.
Can we stop yet?
Throw the damn spinner in the garbage.
And don’t ever ask me to play, again.
I did not sign up for 12 months of twister.
No one did.
Yet the arrow keeps on spinning… and we are forced into our
next move.
