Despite the pandemic feeling mostly over--new antibody-evading COVID variant aside--I still struggle to feel normal, and lately I've been pondering why that's the case. I rarely mask aside from church or basketball tournaments. The kids had full school years and Carter's back at summer camp. Craig's been mostly in the office all year and had a normal travel schedule. We've seen family a lot and gotten back to a lot of normal things, like school and work events. Most of our summer stuff, like reunions and festivals, are back on the schedule once again. Illness is still in the back of our minds but two of the four of us have had COVID, I have antibodies, and cases don't seem too serious now, so that's less of a worry (well, aside from what it might do to our Disney trip). Sure, I'm not back at the office much yet and product shortages and high prices are frequent reminders that something is still amiss, but for some reason my brain is still in this weird pandemic mode where I am absolutely desperate for little daily joys, fixes, and events to look forward to. It's almost like my brain was so deprived of positives and activity for so long that I'm trying to make up for lost time. Or maybe I've created a habit of feeling like I always need a pick-me-up after so much time where the little joys were the only things to brighten my day. We had so few things happening for a while and I think maybe I looked at what little we had with such desperation and anticipation that now I feel an absence when we don't have things going on. Maybe it's all of the above.
During the pandemic, we had months where we didn't go anywhere and had to make the best of it at home. We missed out on a lot of holidays and gatherings, and I think I developed a bit of FOMO as a result. Like, I never want to miss an opportunity to do anything again because it sucked missing out on things then, so I will go out of my way for family parties or fun outings. Additionally, while we were stuck at home with nothing on the calendar to look forward to, and with two kids who were constantly battling, we had to find ways to brighten our days. That's why I started planting flowers and that's what spawned our weekly night of take-out dinner. I've spent a lot of the last two years justifying stops for slushies (Taco Bell Happy Hour Freezes or my no-longer-$1 Speedway Freeze-turned-$1.50-Slurpee) when out and about, just because it makes things more tolerable or more fun. I like having new clothes or jewelry (mostly Kohl's clearance or Aldi, so still keeping them cheap) even though I have few reasons to dress up, just because it's nice to get excited to wear something new. I started making cold brew coffee at home this week because a specially-made iced latte at work last week made me irrationally happy. And anything that can make my daily life easier or give it better scenery, inside or out, feels important. I think even my long hair falls into this category, as I like being able to do something different with it from day to day, when my short hair always looked the same. And when we don't have anything special happening on the weekends, it's slightly depressing and feels wasted--even if I'm probably tired and could use the rest or have a bunch of stuff that needs to be taken care of at home. It's like I constantly need something to spice up my day or it feels blah. I wonder if I got so tired of days looking and feeling the same that I'm overcompensating to make each day feel important, productive, or special.
I know that some of this falls into the category of wanting to control things when everything else feels out of my control. During the last couple years, when my house has been constantly messy and my kids are making me nuts and working from home has had challenges, I appreciate things I can keep up with or fix. That's why laundry currently feels okay to me (it's something I can accomplish for the week) and I tend to buy products that help me fix a nagging frustration--like the flower bed edging I just bought (to stop mulch migrating out of the bed) or the fact that I finally replaced my weed whacker batteries that barely worked anymore (because the state of my yard was frequently stressing me out). I appreciate stuff that makes life easier, like better storage or kitchen gadgets. I appreciate running errands more now because I usually buy things that are needed to replenish something or fix a problem, and also because it allows me to mentally (or physically) check things off a to-do list. When I finally have the energy to tackle one of those big things that feels overwhelming (like cleaning the house or accomplishing the massive amount of yard work I did today), I definitely appreciate it and love feeling like I accomplished something. But the problem with those things is that they are all too easily undone--the house is instantly messy again or the weeds and branches grow back. That is depressing and starts the lack of control cycle all over again. So the easy stuff above generally feels more impactful and longer lasting.
Easing back out of these habits--of "buying happiness" or having to be active to be happy--is proving harder than expected, and not just for me. Craig has always been one to spoil the kids in little ways, way more than me, at least. I grew up rarely getting snacks at the movie theater and never at a gas station, and the only toys I usually got outside of birthdays and Christmas probably came from my shop-a-holic, spoiling grandma. That impacted how I was as a parent, especially since rewarding Jacob tended to backfire most of the time, so I've mostly tried to be careful not to spoil my kids either. But this has been a major difference between us as parents--Craig has always been the one to buy dollar candy at the store or get a special treat from the mall kiosk or pick up a snack postgame for Jacob even if they're coming right home. During the pandemic it got easier to be okay with it when we were out, since we weren't going out much, spending money on activities, or having much in general to get excited about. So if we got to go out, well, sure...they can get a little something. But now trying to ease off that isn't easy. I might consent to getting candy or a drink at the gas station before a trip (I love my roadtrip Slurpees!) but now I might draw the line at later that same day or weekend getting pretzel bites and frozen lemonades at Auntie Anne's at the mall. We rarely did both of those things in close proximity during the pandemic, so now that we do, there's some retraining to do, for us and them. It can't happen every time anymore. Of course, I say that and what did we do tonight after dinner out at Red Robin? We stopped at Wegmans and bought a bunch of stuff for make-your-own sundaes. Sigh. But I suppose an ice cream parlor would have cost similar and what we bought can be used more than once, so there's that. Baby steps.
The pandemic has been one heck of a mind-warping experience. It changed our behaviors and our brain chemistry. Carter's screen-driven ADHD behavior was our first sign, but this whole issue has proved it again. Lifelong habits have been altered, possibly forever. I had to work a full day at the office yesterday and it felt like a prison. It didn't help that no one was there, but I found myself missing the quick walk out to the yard or accomplishing a household task during a screen break. I worked in an office every day for almost 20 years barely thinking twice (I mean, aside from pre-vacation or holidays or Friday afternoons), but two years later it's suddenly hard. But even my office is seemingly doing the same thing in trying to soften the blow, hence the aforementioned fancy custom coffee (and donut battle!) last week and a series of every-other-week food truck lunches meant to entice us back to the office, get us to interact, and generally make it more fun. So I guess it's not just me!
But I do feel like I need to find a happy medium long-term--keep seeking out and appreciating simple pleasures but do it a little less (unless it's calorie-free and/or cost-free) and not feel like a day is wasted without one. I feel like it's going to be a long process as it is, and I'm still not sure when the pandemic will feel "over" or when I will feel "healed" from the traumas of this experience. I keep hoping a real vacation will help, but who knows if this one will be clouded by COVID again. Getting back to the office more in the coming months might regain some old-school-style normalcy, but that will likely up our daily functional stress level, at least for a while. It's been a weird evolution of phases, habits, and changed behaviors over the last 2-1/3 years. Some of it I'm grateful for, some of it has created new challenges. It's just been interesting to realize how this has molded our lives on a long-term basis and realizing that now is probably the time to start molding them back to a more permanent post-pandemic place. Ideally we'll keep the good stuff, eventually exclude the bad, and finally emerge as more fulfilled, grateful humans with a clearer picture of what makes us happy and gives our lives worth. God knows we need some sort of positive to come out of this experience, so maybe that's it. Only time will tell.
No comments:
Post a Comment