One Year Later: A Pandemic Update

A year ago, I wrote my first “pandemic” blog. As I re-read it, I saw the optimism that tends to come naturally to me as well as my typical hopes for positive outcomes to most situations, even difficult ones. I’ve not wholly abandoned this viewpoint, nor my thinking that we will eventually find our way out of this at some point and carry on. I am still just as convinced that we need to keep exercising kindness and a generosity of spirit as much as possible. However, the pandemic’s year-long restrictions and losses have worn me down and out, like they have everyone else; I have never felt we were all in the same boat due to our various circumstances, privileges, and challenges, but the storm of this drawn-out shitshow has hit us all at different angles, hurting and helping us in ways we could neither predict nor imagine. Observations and insights gained are like that, aren’t they? In the last twelve months, I’ve come to see them as the true gifts of this pandemic:

1. There’s nothing like a sustained crisis to really bring out people’s true colours because stress really does amplify our best qualities and worst flaws, not unlike menopause and alcohol.

2. Social media does not really give you an accurate or complete representation of what any individual is going through. At best, you have a snapshot of a second of a complicated day, and the rest is a pile of jumbled missing puzzle pieces.

3. Relying on texting as the sole means of contact with someone is almost a guarantee that at some point you will both misunderstand or misinterpret a situation and communication will deteriorate and break down.

4. Small changes or adjustments in attitude and routines lead to big results over time.

5. Ignoring negative or painful feelings just makes them fester in the darkest recesses of your mind and then persist. If you instead acknowledge and accept them, you can work through and get past the emotions. I have come to visualize this as riding a wave and letting it crash where it will, realising that the ground underneath it remains more solid than the water above it.

6. We don’t need most of the material possessions we used to chase mindlessly, and we can find alternative ways to get results without access to certain places. One perfect example: if I walk in nature each day, throw a yoga mat on the floor for stretches, and reach for my hand weights, there’s no need to ever return to a gym for fitness and health. I am more than capable of doing things alone, at my own pace, using my wooden floors and neighbourhood trails.

7. Every day has scattered moments of simple pleasures, and the trick is to seek them out or enjoy them when they find you instead. This applies to food, weather, nature, and interactions with people and animals.

 From this list of epiphanies, I’ve drawn an updated list of what I need to do more and also do less.

The “do less” list:

1. No more engaging with those who steal my joy, who judge me based on assumptions without trying to understand why or how I reached decisions (especially those that do not affect them or their lives), or who cannot celebrate or clap for the achievements and success of others around them. Being envious, jealous, and judgemental are all traits that I don’t understand and no longer wish to be exposed to in my circle of friends.

2. No more guilt for spending time doing what I want once I’ve fulfilled my (very minor since I’m officially retired) daily obligations. Binge-watching every British police procedural known to mankind on Netflix? Playing video games like Homescapes on my phone until 3 am because I’ve won a reward of 4 free hours? Adding maple syrup to whisky because the sweet taste is out of this world? Having a warm banana with peanut butter and dark chocolate melted over it with a cappuccino for breakfast? Reading Calvin and Hobbes in the bubble bath in the middle of the afternoon because it was and still is the best English-language comic strip to ever exist? Listening to albums or songs repeatedly for days on end because I’m obsessed with Justin Currie’s vocal phrasing or Travis’s brilliant lyrics? It’s all perfectly fine and I care not a whit what anyone would think. Make your own list and do the same!

The “do more” list, which is much longer:

1. Get back into the pool as soon as it’s deemed safe to do so again, like it was last summer outside and inside for part of the fall.

2. Eat what I like, when I like; as long as I keep busy and active throughout the day, I’ve noticed a steady weight loss since this time last year without giving up flavours and pleasure.

3. Include a daily routine of stretches, aerobic activity, and one or two small household chores to move the muscles in uncommon directions.

4. Have a daily ritual of vinyl appreciation during the morning breakfast period. The LP collection is large enough to throw a different record on the turntable for a year.

5. Take daily walks, whether it’s local parks, trails, or combing the waterfront I am so lucky to have just a few streets away. The colours of each season are incredibly beautiful and surprisingly bright even in the dead of winter.

6. Practice kindness towards others in various forms by offering time, gentle words of encouragement and appreciation, and looking for practical ways to assist them if I can.

7. Check in with the people I think about and see how they are; sometimes this is in text form, but more and more I’ve been calling and having video chats with those far away. For those nearby, the walks or socially distant front or backyard coffee chats have been good for the soul. They are God moments, indeed.

8. Tune in to podcasts and music throughout the day to learn and to soothe the soul in the way only music can.

9. Soak in the deep tub with a good book between my fingers every afternoon and once again in the evening, and remember to dip my hands in the paraffin wax at regular intervals, and to slip my tired body into the hot tub at the very end of the day.

10. Play the guitar or the piano as often as I can, and continue to work on writing great lyrics to less impressive music.

11. Enjoy all the moments I get to spend with my husband and our four ridiculously adorable and sweet animals. We are a great little family.

12. Keep taking and sharing the photographs I capture during my walks; they seem to bring joy to others as much as they make me happy to take them.

13. Fill in my journal of “happiness bombs” before I head to bed so that I acknowledge all the pleasures of the day and appreciate how many there always are.

My prediction for this calendar year is that we will hopefully get our shit together here in Canada in time for a late fall trip across the pond, where my pals are already getting vaccinated at a faster rate than we are managing so far. If I’m wrong and we need a few added months, I have plenty to look forward to in the meantime, including the return to warmer weather and longer days. I have fingers and toes crossed that the outdoor pools will open for another summer of safe swimming to give my arthritis some relief, and that my garden will keep me occupied under the hot rays of the sun.  I am grateful that those I love the most are safe and well, and I can’t wait to see their full smiling faces soon; we may emerge battered and bruised from this prolonged ordeal, but I will happily crack a few ribs when we get to fiercely hug again.

Year's End...

For me, the end of December is usually marked by a birthday sandwiched between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, usually spent further south on a tropical beach. For 2020, the shoreline is local, and the white sand is actually snow. On Sunday, I celebrated my 58th birthday with a lovely morning walk in a local lakeside park with a few close friends; the rest of the day was spent relaxing and receiving texts, messages, and a few phone calls from dear friends and family. 

                                                The view south on my birthday walk.

By the end of the evening, I was overwhelmed with the feeling of immense love and joy, so much so that it made me cry. In a year that’s been raw and emotional, it was a wonderful day that I will remember as truly special.

                                                    Birthday nightcaps.

What a year it’s been, hasn’t it? It has been a long and uneven haul, and to quote one of my lovely Scottish pals who has a way with words, “Aye, it’s been shite.” Not many of us can truthfully say that we haven’t struggled with some aspect of the pandemic, whether it’s manifested as a kind of anxiety, depression, anger, impatience, rage, or other negative emotions. For me, it’s been an abundance of overthinking and emotional overload coupled with a strange paralysis and disorganisation: I have a long “to-do and want-to-do” list, but just cannot get a system in place to complete these tasks in an efficient manner. It’s so hit and miss most days as I wander from one activity to another, abandoning projects all over the house before returning to them later; it is an odd thing to have all the time in the world and yet feel incapable of doing anything productive with much of it because my brain is in a perpetual fog.

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Some of my pebble and wood art projects, all gifted to dear friends.

While it’s not been easy for any of us, one of the gifts of 2020 has been that it has revealed people for who they really are. I have been on the receiving end of such generosity and kindness from neighbours who shared homemade goodies, garden harvests, the care of our pets, as well as some touching surprises from casual friends and acquaintances; this week, a lovely online pal bought me a ticket to Frank Turner’s livestream concert as a birthday treat, which was incredibly sweet and unexpected. Many friends and family have stayed connected in safe and ingenious ways to minimize our isolation from one another, and the weather cooperated so beautifully in the last six months to bring me outside most days to enjoy nature and keep myself healthy and active. On a less cheerful note, we didn’t get across to see our friends in Scotland back in May, nor head back to Iceland in October, or go off to the Caribbean this week; we plan to travel to those favourite spots next year, and I so look forward to hugging those we miss but love dearly. I didn’t find the inspiration for a return to novel writing, though making my stone and wood art and trying songwriting once again has brought me closer to figuring it all out. I lost a couple of really close relationships through conflicts I couldn’t even make sense of, but also struck up new friendships with people I hope to meet next summer, and rekindled old ones. We lost our beautiful boy Sirius in August, but were then blessed by the arrival of two new little black panthers from the same local rescue that brought our dog into our lives last year after losing Whiskey. The Cirque du Soleil continues in the house and they are wonderful little mischief makers with sweet temperaments.  All in all, the gains have balanced the losses, and that makes them easier to accept.

Our little panthers, T'Challa and Magneto.

As we approach New Year’s Eve, I am cautiously optimistic that despite a rough few months ahead, spring is really just around the corner. I am grateful that those closest to me remain in good health and that some who have suffered the most in recent months are ending this last week on a gentle note and will surely thrive in the next year. Effective vaccines are on the way, and what we need now is a good dose of patience and vigilance to get to the finish line, which is not too far now. To all of you, I want to wish you a joyous and peaceful end to this most unusual year, and all the best for a healthy and happy 2021. As the Who famously sang, “Got a feeling ’21 is going to be a good year.”

On the Edge

It’s been over seven months since the world as we knew it changed into endless Groundhog Days, and despite the summer pause between the waves, we are once again staring down the barrel of a long, dark winter of restrictions and continued measures to prevent more spread. The spring lockdown, in retrospect, seemed much easier than this next round might be, even though children are back at school and we have largely learned to manage our daily tasks with the new routines.

I am on edge, though. Not every moment, not every day, but it is there, driven by the convergence of three dominant elements of my personality.

As an empath, I am sensing the struggles of others around me and it is amplifying my own emotions in a negative manner that was largely absent in the warmer months when we could form social bubbles and enjoy what was the most glorious summer weather in years. As someone with ADHD, my tendencies to overthink and not be able to turn off my brain has caused an overload of dark scenarios and overlapping worries. And finally, as if these two major character traits weren’t enough to conspire against striving for a stable state of happiness or contentment, I am an extrovert, and the social animal that I have been my whole life is not able to play with others at the moment or for the foreseeable future, which overwhelms me at times with a sense of loneliness and isolation. Many of my closest friends are educators, and as they’ve returned to school and are drowning in work, I am back to pursuing the interests I had developed in my retirement, but without others around me to share them with, it’s challenging to my mental health.

So here I sit on the edge, visualising it like a riverbank, my legs dangling as I contemplate the water below while my brain attempts to make sense of what lies ahead. There are days with inexplicable tears, meanderings of the mind to despairing thoughts, and emptiness caused by the starvation for human contact beyond my sweet, kind, introverted Viking husband; there are however so many more moments of joy, banter and laughter, recollections of lovely memories of friends and places just out of reach, and interactions with generous neighbours and friends who manage to find safe ways to connect. For the imbalance that favours the positive aspects of my life, I am truly grateful. When the darkness temporarily overshadows the light, I give in to it and let the water submerge me, as I have learned that it is neither realistic nor possible to be happy or even content all of the time. It is important not to deny emotions, but to accept them without judgement and ride them out. Like waves in the ocean, they swell and eventually recede, and land where they will. The water dissipates over the more solid sand, and the cycle continues. It’s important to recognise that none of our feelings are permanent, much like the conditions we are being placed under right now. Better days are ahead, and I for one will appreciate what the edge is teaching me until they come.

Thanksgiving, Special Covid Edition, 2020

Tomorrow is Canadian Thanksgiving, a time to reflect on everything we sometimes take for granted but should be grateful for. This year, I’m going for the list format, which will allow me to be poignant and silly in equal measures, both of which seem necessary in these plague days we seem to be mired in. Please enjoy what I am dubbing the Special Covid Edition Thanksgiving Gratitude List for 2020.

1. I live with a Viking, a dog who is more horse than canine, two mischievous, affectionate panthers, and a Calico with enough attitude to rival the rest of the household. 

The horse.

The Viking.

                                                Cattitude.

                                        The panthers.

2. I love all the creatures great and small mentioned above with all my heart, and cannot imagine my home without them.

3. Our neighbourhood is close to the water, which allows me to have enough access to one of my two most beloved natural elements to avoid the despair of missing the mountains that I would normally have seen in the past few months. Scotland, I will see you in 2021, and all the wonderful friends I have so missed laughing with this year.

The Great Lake.

                                My beloved Scottish mountains.

4. I am deeply grateful that so far, my close friends and family who have contracted Covid have largely recovered from any complications. I know that many are not so fortunate.

5. I have managed not to completely make a fool of myself attempting my first “serious” vegetable garden and look forward to learning from my mistakes with next year’s crop. Like anything else done for the first time, there have been major stumbles (my carrots so far look like the pencil nubs my students would bring me to get a new one) and placement errors, but also beautiful surprises like ginger, cauliflower, and potatoes. The weed also seemed to grow well, but hey, it’s a weed and that's what they do.

The weekend harvest so far: tomatoes, beans, and the start of having potatoes!

                                                    

                                                    My first ever cauliflower!

6. We had a glorious summer with endlessly hot, sunny days, and it started just as lockdown ended, which sent me outside on most days to not only work on the garden, but to read and relax in fresh, warm air. I ended up with a bumper crop of freckles on every part of me on what I called my ginger tan.

7. Our city allowed the opening of outdoor public pools with such competence and careful management that there were only two days where bad storms prevented me from maintaining my aquafit regime.

8. Our city has allowed indoor pools to continue providing lane swims this fall so that those of us who are mermaids can keep our torsos, arms, and tails finely toned as the cooler weather approaches.

9. I discovered the joy of making pebble art on old pieces of wooden fence boards, which I’m now exploring with glass and other materials. While I don’t see doing it as a business (it would take all the relaxation and some of the pleasure out of it), I have made some personal and unique art for friends that has been appreciated and well-received.

                               

                                             Some of my pebble creations.

10. I have acquired a personal DJ who has steadily sent me music by artists I’d never heard of before for the past six months. The discovery of new songs and albums has given me a rich soundtrack that I will forever associate with 2020 in the most beautiful way even though some of them are from the last century. His superb taste in music is only surpassed by his  relentlessly hilarious dark humour, and I appreciate the banter and tunes in equal measures.

11. I can look back on this calendar year and say that despite all the restrictions, I kept myself active enough to avoid putting on the dreaded “Covid 10 lbs”. Between the pool, dog and power walking, tennis, stretching, and yoga, I am fitter and slimmer that at anytime in my adulthood when I wasn’t dabbling in some kind of clubbing drugs.

12. Like most people, I learned some new skills this year, including baking and soup making, and no one died eating any of it.

13. I am eternally grateful that while the Scottish Mob did not manage the Scottish holidays, we maintained our closeness by bubbling up and having summer evenings in my backyard with great shared meals, superb dram samplings, and wickedly competitive euchre tournaments. This is perhaps what I will cherish the most about the summer, and look forward to recreating in the Highlands and Hebrides next August when we are free to travel together once again.

14. While I deeply regret that a few dear friends had some truly difficult times the last few months, I am grateful that their suffering is largely behind them and that our friendships have endured or grown stronger. I thank some of them for allowing me the pleasure of helping them in the small ways I could, and for being such models of strength and resilience, and I owe a huge debt of gratitude to others for coming to my emotional rescue many times to that I could process my own anxieties and mental health struggles. Collectively, they taught me to trust in the hopes of better days ahead, to practise developing my patience and to let go of elements I could  not control in order to accept how things would unfold. You all know who you are, and I hope you know how much I love and appreciate you all. <3

15. Even though the restrictions did not always allow me to see my immediate family as much as I hoped, we did manage a lovely birthday celebration for our mother just before the first lockdown and found ways to meet and make sure everyone was taken care of. Again, the backyard provided a great setting for managing socially distant gatherings, and I am forever grateful to this old farmhouse for helping to bring us together.

16. I am also incredibly lucky that I live in a neighbourhood filled with kind and generous people who happily swap food and treats with one another and share their expertise, whether it's by cutting wood pieces, helping to fix something in your yard, or with gardening tips. Living around such great folks and meeting then getting to know them more has truly been one of the biggest plusses of the last few months. Our horse puppy has not minded the company of the cute dog across the street either who comes by for daily runs while her lovely mum and I chat and enjoy fresh air in the yard.

17. Lastly, I discovered that I am indeed a witch, and that I need to listen to my inner sorceress voice when she is trying to get my attention. She knows things, she understands that things happen and come in their rightful time, and that there are sweet days ahead if we can all just smile and find pleasure and satisfaction in the current ones before us. We will get through this, just trust the magic of the faeries and the witches.

 

The trees will talk, if you listen.

The GIFT OF TRUE FRIENDSHIPS

2020 is almost in its last quarter and some of us are still plotting out or writing our survival guides for the rest of a year that has presented us with change, loss and/or challenges to face and overcome. We may not be sharing the same boat, but the storm has likely damaged us all in some way or another, and I doubt any one of us will be the same once the dark clouds dissipate and life returns to whatever normalcy will eventually look like.

When I tell my story one day, it will be a tale of how some exceptional friends and family members helped me get through the last six months and grounded me enough to face those to come still. As one close pal who is much better at math than I am reminded me this week, we are only through the first third of this nightmare. It will be a story with a supporting cast of amazing folks who have kept me going when I was ready to give up. Some sat with me patiently while I cried and spilled out my frustrations and fears over coffee, drams, and shared meals; others offered the wisdom of their experiences and specialized knowledge to remind me why past events were presenting such difficulties in coping with current ones; there was also gentle yet perceptive advice from some of my closest and oldest friends, as well as beautiful distractions of laughter and wonderfully inappropriate banter to make the hard moments lighter and my troubles or sorrows seem smaller. There were quick notes, phone calls, and shared photos from friends far away, as well as backyard and front-porch visits that filled me with great joy from those who are closer geographically. I cannot wait to be able to hug all of you again when this madness is over. There was also specifically the demonstration of such bravery and strength in watching two very dear friends dealing with their own incredibly difficult struggles with such grace and resilient determination that it made me want to emulate their courage in the face of obstacles that are minor in comparison to their situations.

From this rich tapestry of deep friendships and connections, I have weaved together a plan for the fall that will help me heal myself physically and emotionally. I hope that my superheroes and angels recognise themselves in the sentences that pertain to them, and understand the pivotal  and irreplaceable role they have played in advancing my personal story to a happier ending for the year. 

I have such immense love and appreciation for each one of you, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity of spirit, kindness, patience, wisdom, and for showing me also what courage and strength look like in the face of adversity. I am truly humbled, fortunate, and most of all deeply grateful that you are in my life.

I AM...

I am WATER.

I will cry when I feel sadness or loss.

I will cleanse my mind of the negative thoughts that make me doubt myself.

I will flow from one joyful activity to another.

I will let go of the things and the people who no longer make my heart sing.

I am FIRE.

I will burn the bridges to the past so that I can leave it behind and not go back there.

I will tame my darkest thoughts so that I can make room for more positive ones.

I will adapt to the uncertainty of the world before us by being hopeful and flexible.

I will ignite my passions and follow them where they lead me creatively.

I am AIR.

I will observe the beauty of the natural world around me.

I will breathe deeply and pause when I need to consider my next actions.

I will focus on what goals I want to achieve.

I will decide which steps I must take to reach them.

I am EARTH.

I will ground myself by honouring my core values.

I will give my time and energy to the people and causes I believe in.

I will build on my strengths and talents.

I will heal my wounds so I can be a better person.

I am SPIRIT.

I will connect with those I care for and love the most.

I will listen to my inner voice and to my instincts.

I will know who to surround myself with to live a happier life.

I will be still when it is time to rest.

Scotland, Italy, and Germany, I am coming for you as soon as we can safely fly again. Stirling, we are going to continue to play and roam together until we are both run right off our feet. Pandora, I promise you that we will find you new siblings to keep you young and happy. My Viking, tennis and travel adventures are in the cards, as are cards and drams with our friends. I want to keep moving up mountains and diving under water. There’s a new tattoo or two coming. There’s a long list of books to read and playlists of undiscovered musical recommendations to delve into. There are great friends abroad and close by that I miss dearly and cannot wait to see again. There will eventually be magical lost evenings at concert halls again. There is art to create with my hands and with my words and thoughts.

Time to look and move forward.