It comes in waves. Big, aggressive, dangerous waves. Waves that go in and out with tide. Sometimes 10, 11, 12 times a day.

Now, I’m not talking about the virus at all. Or the news coverage of it. I’m talking about that feeling. The feeling that the light at the end of the tunnel has some kind of shade pulled over it and you can’t figure out how to get it up. The feeling where your child asks you why you are shaking your head and you are not really sure why, you just have that weird panel of dread on your chest again. 

But you ride that wave out. Dinner comes. You arrange a quaratine beer delivery for a friend’s 40th birthday. You go for a two hour walk and come back rejuvenated and ask your BFF to send you the great pork recipe she told you about. The wave crests, the wave falls, the wave lifts us up again.

I am purposely writing this on the crest of the current wave. The wave of– Are my children doing what they are supposed to- Are my students all understanding my directions, what are we having for lunch and dinner?- What am I going to do for exercise today? Why am I not sleeping better? Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.

It comes like a whoosh. And it brings out all the versions of you that you don’t like. The negative. The defeated. The mentally and emotionally exhausted. It feels like quicksand for a moment or two. Okay maybe 30 minutes or more. Until you push through. Push up. Get up on your board to ride.

Then there are all the things that you think you should/would/could be doing in the downtime that you are not riding a wave. Some of those things are getting done, the small things maybe, but the rest hang over your head like dark clouds. Things on your ever so optimisitc Corona to-do list that you may never have the mental or physical energy to do.

Unless you pick one of them up on the wave of feeling good. On the day when you nail homeschool and remote school and have your home/office/school in tip top shape. The dishes are done, the dryer is going and you are like, “Hmmm, should I touch up the paint in the kitchen?” (This hasn’t happened but it will someday, right?)

The waves will come. They will be short and disappear quickly. They will be long and give you a headache. They will be full of joy and laughter as you sit around a lunch table for too long. But the waves are just that. Waves. They have a rhythm, a motion that has a beginning, a middle, an end. You determine how to ride the wave without getting pulled into the undertow. You pick yourself up, straighten out your board, and get ready to ride again.

That’s what this is. Over and over again. Don’t kid yourself that all of it is worse for you or that all of it is so much better for someone else. It’s waves for everyone. And we are all just trying to hold on, wave after wave, and get through the day. And maybe, just maybe, have a normal-ish night of sleep for the first time in weeks.