For 10 years I wrote a blog once a month. I haven’t written anything in my blog since last summer. I have had little motivation to do much of anything at times. There has been a lot I could have written about: the pandemic and soaring covid death rates, racial and nationalistic tensions that could snap the country apart, Trump deconstructing democracy before our eyes, insomnia and depression, identity hacking, social media break, losing my mom to Covid without getting to say goodbye, processing old family dysfunction, hurt and grief, painful sciatica, extreme boredom and loneliness. Those are the things that have kept me company throughout 2020. Why bother to write these past months. Nobody wants to hear about it. We are tired of sad stories and the perpetual Ground Hogs Day we are all living. On a conscious level, 2020 brought us down; we all feel it. And as much as I have been open about so much in my life, I just shut down and did my best to cope.
So far, 2020 has been one of the top 3 worst years of my life. I’m 57. That’s only 5.26% of my life that’s been shitty as a whole, so I can’t complain. I can, but I’ll try not to. There is much to be grateful for in spite of the many different kinds of micro-deaths I’ve experienced this year (such as loss of purpose and identity). I’ve gone through the 5 stages of 2020 grief. Now, I’m in the 6thstage of grief: Meaning.
I’ve shared this awful year with the best human being on my planet. I couldn’t have made it without Rich. Maybe I could have; but I don’t think I’d be as emotionally stable.
We felt like we were on house arrest trying to keep safe from the virus. Each day we’ve tried hard not to let this thing called Covid-life get to us. We took it one-day-at-a-time. To think any farther ahead is too hard for the mind to comprehend. At times we’d just muse at the knowledge that we were living during a time of history that people will read about in 100 years.
Rich has been fortunate to have something to do everyday. Miraculously, his company, RDR Group, grew towards the end of 2020 as they transitioned to all virtual training. When he wasn’t working, on the weekends, we took scenic drives or walked along the beach, ate lunch at the water’s edge on the causeway in our car looking for dolphins, and watched endless amounts of TV series, movies and documentaries. As our minds expanded, so did our waistlines. It’s not pretty people. Food was the only natural serotonin and dopamine hit we could get without turning to drugs or alcohol. Sitting around all year has wreaked havoc on our metabolism. It was hard to keep our motivation up. What little energy we had left, we gave it to each other. We greeted each day with hugs and smiles—happy to be together was our biggest incentive to not get too down or discouraged.
I have desperately missed those I love. I’ve seen a few friends in passing outside on the front porch 10-feet apart. I saw Kevin masked up for 5 hours in July. I wanted so bad to hug him that I taped two clear plastic shower curtains together with duct tape then threw it over my head. I let him hug me long and hard. I didn’t even care if I would have passed out. I miss hugging. But we’ve made choices not to see friends and family during the holidays and other special events (like April's wedding to Drew). And I don't think I'd risk having Kev in the house again without him doing a 14 day quarantine; and that's not going to happen. So we will see him when the pandemic is over or we're all vaccinated. I purposely stayed off social media so I wouldn’t give into the social temptation to gather with others. Even though others are out there traveling and going to restaurants, we feared getting this awful disease; I also couldn’t live with myself if I gave it to someone else. It’s been my own pandemic moral dilemma; a choice I had to personally live with throughout 2020.
I learned to play the Ukulele. I’m pretty good; I think in a few years I could play at children’s birthday parties. The only problem is I have to learn how to sing on key. Since I’m by myself Monday-Friday, nobody cares that I’m singing. My goal was to learn to play well enough that once the pandemic was over, I could accompany Peter Grace at an open mic Ukulele night at the Honu. Peter never knew this, but that was my goal.
I’ve also taught myself watercolor painting. YouTube has been an invaluable resource (pay for premium without commercials…so worth it). I won’t be hanging paintings in a gallery any time soon, but you may get a handmade painted birthday card since I haven’t been to the Hallmark store in a long time. Sometimes I don’t know what to paint; I have no imagination with Shelter-In-Place brain. I’ve told Kevin to text me some of his favorite landscapes while he’s been out on the road in his truck. Sometimes painting for others is easier than doing it for myself. Painting and playing the Ukulele have been my creative outlets.
I could cry when I think back over this year, because I’m amazed that I had the ability to do anything at all. So what if I’ve lived in my pajamas for 95% of 2020? It’s been that hard to be (mostly) all by myself this past year. Friends have checked in and buoyed my spirits; thank you for walking along side of me via phone, texts, Marco Polo, and Zoom.
Which brings us to 2021—A New Year. I’ve always loved New Years. It’s a mental fresh start. Even if I don’t accomplish my resolution goals or desires, I like trying.
The most obvious thing that that happened while Sheltering In Place is our life came to a screeching halt: No more getting together with new and old friends. No more enjoying the perks of our amazing seaside town. No more visitors. No more festivals, art shows, concerts in the park. You take that all away, and it made us think about what’s really important (on a soul level). And though we missed a lot of things in our active Florida life, we missed our adult kids and grandkiddos the most.
This mandatory PAUSE in our lives inspired us to MOVE TO COLORADO. Sarah is in Colorado. Adam is in Arizona. April is in California. And Kevin is still on the road (someday he’ll be back in Florida. Unless he meets a nice girl from Nebraska—then who knows where he’ll settle down). Being out West puts us in proximity to family. Even if we wanted to go back home to see our brothers in Chicago, it’s only a day drive.
Two of our granddaughters in Colorado, Autumn and Annika, are (4 & 2 years old). I’m pretty excited to do giggle girly things in my future. We look forward to being more intentional with our family. Hopefully, since we will be closer, they can come to see us too.
2021 offers us new adventures. We’ll be moving to Loveland CO January 24th; in the middle of a pandemic; in the middle of winter. (No anxiety here at all, nope). LOL! Once we finally adapt to a new altitude, we'll look forward to all the glorious views Colorado has to offer. And when we are tired of looking at mountains and valleys and rivers, we’ll cozy up in front of the fireplace with Buddha.
Rich and I have been on a five year semi-retired vacation. We hate to leave Florida. But you can’t have it all. Sometimes life invites you to choose the better. When Kevin settles back down in Florida, we’ll become snowbirds. If he never does, I plan on coming back to Dunedin every February. The weather in Florida will be a nice interlude from Colorado winters. And when I come back after the pandemic is over, I’ll bring my Ukulele; hopefully, Peter Grace will ask me to play with him at the Honu Tiki Patio.
Ps-I have NO idea why the font changes in different random paragraphs. I don't do that on purpose. :-D
