Day 167 of Spring Break

Warning: Obligatory pandemic post ahead!

No, I haven’t been keeping count. I actually had to figure that out. And by figure it out, I mean, I googled it. After 4+ months of #pandemiclife, my brain is too fried for even the most basic of arithmetic.

School starts in about 10 days, and I’m sick with anxiety. What were we thinking signing up for virtual schooling?! (We were thinking it would be less painful than wearing masks all day and bearing the inevitable disappointment and readjustment to e-learning when schools are shut down again come flu season.) They say to dedicate a quiet workspace for each student. If I had that kind of magic up my sleeve with four boys in the house, I might also have a sliver of my sanity left.

But I’m Mom, so here goes…

Binders and folders and tabs and paper have all been bought. I suppose I’ll be printing agenda pages this weekend.  Hopefully TV trays make ergonomically sound laptop tables, because that’s the best I can figure.

I’m too tired to do better.

I thrive on my annual icon retreat and my writing nights and Saturdays at Panera or Amelie’s. But those things have gone the way of the rest of normality. Though I’ve been able to write a couple icons on my own, it’s been without the benefit of contemplation or quiet. Though I’ve been offered the use of space, I’ve been left with the complications of leaving the boys to their own devices, their own means too. I doubt they’d burn down the house, but I know I’d return to more work than I had fled.

I’m tired of shitty sleep.

I did a sleep study last night. It’s unlikely it will give much in the way of answers, but at least we can rule out apnea, right. Probably. I was referred for this, by the way, the first week of March. FOUR STINKING MONTHS is a long time to wait for a test. But I really didn’t need a test to tell me I need quiet to process my thoughts while I’m conscious so my brain can stop poking them while my eyes are closed.

I’m all kinds of tired.

I’m fatigued physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. I’d normally turn to church, to Adoration and Mass. But neither are very accessible right now. And some “precautionary” practices that have been adopted locally make my skin crawl. I feel spiritually orphaned.

I’m tired of having my guard up.

I hate election years. And each one is worse than the last it seems. I internalize too much, put too much weight on my individual vote. I need to remember to pray more. Maybe I can reread Render Unto Ceasar before casting my ballot in November. In person. Maybe I’ll find peace and detachment somewhere along the way.


None of this is a cry for help. More of an echo of… solidarity? Something like that. This situation is so isolating in many ways. Some of those ways are good. Many families have been drawn together by this Great Cancellation of Life As We Knew It. Not running around has been a blessing for our family. But this cabin fever in the heat of the long month of Blursurary has put a strain on many too. I’m alone in a crowded house, but goodness, what I really need for a few hot minutes is to be alone with my own thoughts. So I can do something like this. Who’s with me?!

*pause for laughter*

But really.

I’m scared. Of what this environment is doing to me… to my kids… to my church…

Afraid… we won’t find our way back.