Every single person you know or encounter—on the road, on the internet, on the sidewalk—is under copious amounts of stress.
Every single person you know or encounter—on the road, on the internet, on the sidewalk—is under copious amounts of stress.
I love my son. I love music. I love that my son is learning music. I loathe the recorder.
Being in the midst of a pandemic is scary. Very scary. I’ve also experienced a lot of other emotions and I bet I’m not alone. We’re all entitled to our feelings, right? Most people aren’t stupid enough to say it aloud, but I am. So here goes nothing…
Throughout the day, I’m productive and distracted enough to not let COVID-19 get into my head. But every night, about the time I would have normally gone to bed 4 weeks ago, my mind starts racing and I don’t know how to settle down enough to go to bed. Where I normally feel very safe and secure, lately I’ve been anxious and uncertain.
When I was about 5 my dad built a pond on our family farm. This pond, affectionately known as “the lake” has been a refuge for my family for 40 years.
I’m not really in the mood to write today. My brain is mush and my heart is heavy, but this Facebook post from NYC reminded me of the strength that we all have within us. Keep plowing ahead, friends. We’ll get through this together.
For my first three years of college I majored in Education. What possessed me to think I could EVER be a school teacher is a mystery. I can’t remember if I’m 13 or 300 days into NTI, but it is beyond obvious that I am not equipped to be a teacher.
On this last day of 76th day of March I’d like to look back on how drastically our lives have changed since February 29th.
I’m an extreme extrovert. I live by the ‘strangers are just friends I haven’t met yet’ mindset. So when my boys’ school announced a caravan driving through the neighborhoods just to wave and say hi, I was just as excited to see the teachers and staff as they were.
Lots of people have Sunday night dread. They live for the weekend and get stressed and depressed as the weekend runs out. Even when I’ve had jobs I didn’t enjoy, I always looked forward to Monday. It’s a fresh start, a new beginning, another shot at getting things right.
Things are getting real here in Northern Kentucky. Multiple cases, one death, a person I know is hospitalized with the virus and more than a couple of my friends are now on the front lines as healthcare workers. Two weeks into the social distancing and it seems like we’ll be doubling down for at least two more. Luckily, there are plenty of distractions to get my mind off the pending doom.
I’m blessed beyond belief. I’m working, so far everyone in my family is safe and healthy, and we have everything we need for the time being. But just like everyone these days, I’m writing with both sides of the pencil.
