What Should’ve Happened Instead...(of uncontrollable weeping and self-doubt)
This week I removed a post (that I may repost after some editing) intended to share a woman’s descent into the “new normal” created by COVID-19. At least one person was hurt by my admissions so I deleted the post and apologized profusely, then spent the next few days caught in a shame cycle that would give Brene Brown a run for her money.
Support from friends poured in, and I started to feel less like a monster, and more like the wet bag of hormones and rocky road ice cream that I’ve become at 36 weeks pregnant. It also got me thinking.
Why am I so quick to throw myself under the bus? I never meant to hurt anyone with my post; I was expressing fear. I’ve had to take the Coronavirus threat seriously, and I thought the general undercurrent of the news and social media was in line with that. So yes, I was shocked and appalled by what seemed like reckless behavior of certain people I care about. This isn’t my virus and these aren’t my rules. I’m just doing what I can to keep my immediate family safe in a situation that is more dangerous by the day. Any challenge to that is a threat, and those threats come from other people.
Should I have had the balls to turn people away at my front door, or ask directly what steps the people who are going to be in my son’s life are taking to limit their exposure? Maybe. But therein lies the bigger issue: I’m afraid of confrontation.
I know…I didn’t believe it myself until recently. I always thought I was bossy and assertive. Maybe too bossy and assertive. Growing up I was the spoiled, selfish child who had to have everything her way, which is not who I wanted to be as an adult. To course-correct I started keeping my mouth shut, and quietly ruminating on my displeasure rather than stir the pot. It didn’t work (of course). Eventually I’d boil over, lashing out with verbal punishments that hardly fit the current crimes. It wasn’t serving myself or my unsuspecting victims to swallow my thoughts and bury my needs just to avoid conflict. The blog became my middle ground.
When confronted about the questionable post, I was mortified. The last thing in the world I wanted was to hurt my family—or anyone else. The blog is my safe place; the only place I feel like I can express myself without confrontation. To share my opinions without the risk of being bossy or aggressive. I forget that who and what I write about still has an impact, and sometimes I forget to be kind.
But I also forget that my feelings are just as valid as those of anyone I may inadvertently wound with my words. I’m ashamed that my first instinct was to discount myself, and hurry to rectify the situation without asking more questions. That I basically rolled over like a submissive dog to show I’m not a threat, and—once again—swallow my own fears and hurt to protect a relationship with someone I love.
Since that relationship is one of the most important in my life, I didn’t know what else to do.
Going forward things need to change. I need to change. I’m not an evil person. I share whatever crazy, neurotic thoughts are going through my mind because I know I’m not the only woman who still collapses in a teary blob on her bathroom floor when someone says something bad about her. We all have that potential, and if I can help even one other person feel less insane by sharing my own inner psychopath, then the risk of baring my soul is worth it.
In this case I don’t think I’m the crazy one. I think crazy is NOT taking the Coronavirus seriously. I’d rather be the person keeping a six-foot distance, disinfecting my mailbox, and disrobing in the garage after the grocery store if it means my husband, my soon-to-be-born kiddo, and I stay healthy and don’t perpetuate the spread. Has it been easy? A resounding NO. That’s what I was trying to get across in the post I removed. Has it made an already hormonal and very pregnant person even more of a lunatic?
You betcha.
But I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be right now. Anything I say in support of that isn’t intended to alienate myself from the small, exclusive group of people I give a damn about. It’s simply the raving of a woman stuck in quasi-quarantine who would like everyone else to get on board with precautions that are meant to keep us safe and get us the heck out of the house again one day. I’d rather not have my son stuck in isolation forever, or wait months before he meets all the people who are anxious to love him.
And I sure as hell don’t want anyone I know or love getting sick.
As hard as the past few weeks have been, spending so much time alone has taught me a lot.
Kindness is key. I need to extend that to others and myself. All feelings are valid, even the ones that are questioned.
I have seriously awesome neighbors (thanks for the bread!).
Having my baby at home in the bathtub is sounding better and better (honey, be ready to catch…).
Avoiding conflict doesn’t prevent it, it only exacerbates it. It’s time to speak my truth—and not just here.
Butter has an expiration date (who knew?).
Some friends care enough to pee outside—you know, when they’re not allowed in the house.
I’m super thrilled to have a dog, and equally relieved I don’t have young children that require entertaining during isolation. Seriously, all you parents out there are rockstars!
My hubs and I would be an unstoppable force on a couple’s version of Wheel of Fortune.
I have an amazing support system of girlfriends who I haven’t seen in ages but appreciate now, more than ever.
I don’t write for the naysayers. To the one who can’t believe my husband has stayed married to someone like me (you know who you are!), I certainly don’t write for you.
More to come. Meanwhile, as we pioneer our way into this new, uncertain world, speak your truth, and do whatever you need to do—even if it feels crazy—to stay safe.
Lock your doors, wipe your ass (with all that toilet paper!), and wash your damn hands!