Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

Mental Health

Your Story Is Mine Too

By

Most people will be surprised to hear I was pregnant. We told very few people and even fewer knew we had officially decided to enter the wild arena of parenthood. I hesitated even sharing my story because it’s still very much raw, the kind of raw that only the course of time will smooth the painful edges a bit.

The only shred of comfort I’m given is my confidence in the strength of women sharing their stories. There is absolutely no force more powerful than women united. 

I joked with my husband that this was one of the most well-thought-out pregnancies in the world. It took us over a decade to decide, through the rigors of his med school and residency training, finally feeling comfortable enough with my writing career, and discussing”at nauseating length”whether or not we should shake up our life and bring a life in our little corner of the world. We both happily came to the conclusion that we wanted to take on parenthood. 

It happened quickly. So quickly that I will forever defend all the other freaked out women who have the audacity to choose not to become a mother or wait until after 35 to become one. No, my ovaries did not, in fact, shrivel into my insides and dissolve into dust once I hit 35. Even 40! 

I was just over two months pregnant when the spotting started to be a concern. At first, it fell into the normal range”if anything can fall into that category during your first pregnancy”but on that day it became concerning enough that my ER doc husband said I should go to the ER.

I couldn’t even go to the ER he worked in. I wasn’t even home when this happened. I was visiting my sister who, as a former ICU nurse, was the best possible option to have by my side with my husband 2,500 miles away at home. 

Based on where I was in my pregnancy, it wasn’t clear from the ultrasounds and exams, if I was miscarrying. While the bleeding was concerning, it had stopped at that point. The final determination was to wait for what was supposed to be my very first scan with my own OBGYN at home only 4 days from now. Then, if I hadn’t miscarried, we could run all the same tests again and compare levels and measurements. I was both validated in my concerns and treated with respect.

The bleeding got worse the next morning. My contractions started later in the afternoon. I was sitting on a park bench alone, talking to my husband on the phone when the intense pressure began in my lower abdomen. I actively miscarried for the next 2 hours. The next morning I passed a sac with our gummy bear in it. The day after that, I flew home alone to Hawaii, one less passenger in my life. 

After 20+ hours of travel, I came home to a house as empty as my heart since my husband was on a 24-hr shift at the hospital taking care of patients with the same dignity and respect I received only days before. I crawled into bed amongst a backdrop of painful reminders I had forgotten about while I was gone: kind congratulations cards, pregnancy books piled on tabletops and proudly displayed positive pregnancy tests on the kitchen counter. (I took approximately 400, just to be sure.)

The bleeding and cramping would continue for a week and I’d been required to use those sort of maxi-pads you sheepishly tried to hide in your backpack in middle school. You know the ones thick enough to consider laying down on and taking a nap? I tossed the used pads into the same bathroom bin my pregnancy test wrappers were still in. A cruel reminder each time I went to pee.

My husband came home and joined me at my OBGYN appointment the next morning. The appointment that had been scheduled for over a month in advance. The one where we eagerly anticipated hearing a heartbeat. The one which had now turned into a miscarriage follow-up.

While finding a parking spot, we drove past people holding signs with quotes about women’s descent to hell. Some were wearing t-shirts emblazoned with scriptures about sinners. Posters, in all caps, screaming about the unborn. 

The unborn which this appointment would determine if my body had fully miscarried or I needed an intervention in order to prevent becoming septic.

My appointment confirmed that my cervix and empty uterus look great. (I can’t wait to put that on my resume one day.) I walked out with instructions to keep wearing the padded mattresses in my underwear and take ibuprofen as needed for the painful cramping; every pad change and intense cramp reminding me that I was no longer pregnant.

That was it. Our world had changed. While the world around us simultaneously carried on.

To be abundantly clear, my story is the best case scenario. 

And it was still one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. 

I had great medical care and this was still awful. My amazing body took care of me and I’m still hurt this happened. I’m surrounded by a support network that includes healthcare workers and still find myself crying at random points in the day. I’m strong and this was a different kind of pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

While sitting at a red light contemplating the now-empty year ahead of us after my appointment, I asked my husband what would have happened if my body didn’t resolve this miscarriage, if my OB had seen that some tissue was left. 

In most cases, a D&C is performed soon.

A Dilation and Curettage (D&C) is a common procedure performed to stop bleeding and prevent infection, it dilates your cervix and removes all of the pregnancy tissue from your uterus. 

Outside the medical community many people aren’t aware of how often there is a medical need for it nor how often those whom you love have had one. What some may not understand is a D&C is an abortion. The word is a medical term. You will find this noted in a patient’s chart, on medical records and in basic medical terminology that has been used in the healthcare industry for decades.

Upwards of 20-40% of pregnancies end in miscarriage and nearly half require a medical intervention like a D&C that my body did not. 

Had I not miscarried completely, had some tissue been left behind in my uterus, had I not lived in nor been visiting a state that provides full reproductive healthcare after 6 weeks, my already painful experience would have been made unnecessarily worse or deadly. That is not an exaggeration peddled to create fear. It is a medical reality. 

It’s why we have the phrase: Abortion is healthcare.

Women die without these procedures. 

Just as we receive life-saving care after a heart attack or cancer diagnosis; abortions are performed to save the life of your mother, sister, daughter, friend or neighbor.

Physicians are now having to wait alongside their patients and watch them get sicker and sicker before being allowed to help, all while having the training and technology to prevent it from happening in the first place. We’re asking physicians to consult lawyers or a committee prior to medically intervening to save a woman’s life in order to get advice on if she has gotten just close enough to the brink of death before she qualifies for help. The fallacy of laws that allow exceptions for when a woman’s life is at risk, directly depends on who makes that call, and it can mean it’s not a physician. 

Women simultaneously provide life for the entire planet but are somehow told ours doesn’t matter.

In all of my extensive travels, and with all the chatter about who we are as a nation, I never would have considered my fellow Americans cruel. We may be a lot of things, but cruel isn’t one of them. 

Cruel is being put in a position while I’m miscarrying to wonder if I’ll even receive care based on the state I’m in. Cruel is allowing women to become septic, a condition that often requires an ICU stay and can be deadly, before intervening. Cruel is still bleeding between your legs or being forced to continue a pregnancy with fetal demise, and having to risk your own life by driving or flying hundreds of miles, in pain, to get the healthcare you need.

This notion to protect the unborn comes at a cost to the woman’s life who is carrying it. 

In the weeks following my miscarriage, I had to unsubscribe from all the pregnancy apps I excitedly downloaded. Reluctantly click that I’ve experienced pregnancy loss. Delete email updates that my baby is now 8 weeks and 3 days, which sat right above the email I received with my discharge documents from the hospital. Clear out my refrigerator with all the caffeine-free pregnancy options I stocked it with. (Pro-Tip: Sugar Free A&W Root Beer is legit.) I actually snapped this picture on a hike the day I miscarried to remind myself I will be okay. Since then, I’ve found myself aching to get outdoors more often in an attempt to calm the constant stream of questions I have about why this happened. 

I drove to Target this week because I got that gentle reminder email that the pick-up order I impulsively placed”and forgot about a millisecond thereafter”was about to be reshelved. On my way, I passed by my OBGYN clinic and saw it. They were out there again. Signs in all caps, lined up, side-by-side on the road, inescapable if you dared to enter to get a mammogram or pap smear or refill on your birth control. Or, in my case, to verify I had fully miscarried.

I wondered where the signs were for me. For the women carrying what they were shouting about. 

I was told by someone once that I would change my mind about abortion once I became pregnant. They are right. Now, more than ever, I am more entrenched in the radical notion that a woman can get to choose if she wants to live. To do what she wants with her own body. To know that the hardest decision a woman may ever make, isn’t yours.

We often talk casually about the strength of women; almost as if it’s expected, taken for granted. I found my own hero in the days and weeks after my miscarriage. She’s been in me the whole time but powerfully pushed through and made her presence known with pure grit. When I stop to think about how many other women do the same, under extraordinarily worse circumstances, it’s breathtaking.

Like the solidarity of passing a tampon under the stall door, I don’t need to know your story to support you, because your story is mine too. Maybe we don’t need giant signs in all caps because we know there will always be another woman outside that stall, ready to support us because they’ve been there.

We need to know you’re there. We need you to have our backs like we’ve had yours.

Those signs are your ballots. 

The quiet protest is your vote.

My 84-Mile Hike Across England to Recalibrate

By

“I’ve never seen any life transformation that didn’t begin with the person in question finally getting sick of their own bullshit.”

– Elizabeth Gilbert

To say the last few months of my life have been transformative, would be an absolute understatement. I did what so many of us need to do more and took care of myself.

Not in the form of pedicures or a shopping spree or guzzling mimosas at brunch. (An effect of which is often fleeting.) 

I really took care of myself.

It meant evaluating what was working and what had slowly stopped, sputtering out like a car blowing smoke out the tailpipe and stalling in reverse. (I just described my first car, you guys. Let’s pour one out for my 1992 Chevy Corsica named Papa Smurf for its electric blue color. RIP Papa Smurf.)

Imagine me grabbing at anything that works or has previously worked in the past and going to my trusty coping toolbelt. 

  • Therapy: 1-2x a month
  • Exercise: Ran nearly 3x a week for all of 2021 and completed two 10K races and two 5K races, along with strength training sparsely patched in.
  • New hobbies: Took up painting and reading way more than I normally do.
  • Routine: Getting up around the same time and using my mornings for mediation and stretching.
  • Connection: Reached out to family and friends when I was feeling blue, even if it was just a Facetime call. Joined an IRL (In Real Life) group of fabulous humans while volunteering at vaccination clinics. I started this regular newsletter, which has been a shiny beacon for me and you, from what I hear.
  • Mixed up the everyday: Tried tons of new recipes, explored different areas to walk and hike, pushed myself to join new groups (even if it was only online) and renovated my office and dining room.

And guess what? It didn‘t work. It only helped me keep my head above water. 

And man, was I tired of treading water. By the beginning of 2022, I realized I absolutely didn’t feel like myself. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror if I was even brave enough to look in it nor the thoughts I was having about humanity itself.

The 2.5 years of being in total isolation for the majority of the time, took a toll on me. For someone who loves her solitude, she quickly found out that isolation is very different from solitude, even if I was trying all the good things.

I couldn’t keep kidding myself that I was okay. I tricked myself into thinking I was doing well, covering up the pain with: SEE! I’m doing all-the-things-they-say-to-do. Look at me, self-care extraordinaire.

But by the start of this year, I let go of my pride in coping skills. I was done. Tired. I was sick of my own bullshit that I could continue to carry on, like I always have.

(See that great Elizabeth Gilbert quote above.) 

Isolation is a bitch. I used to think if I’d somehow committed a heinous crime”What? Totally normal thoughts!”that I’d be okay in solitary confinement. Boy, am I more confident of myself in my mind.

Because of my husband’s line of work, we very often were relegated to doing the heavy lifting of isolating ourselves. This was before and sadly even after vaccinations were available. With each surge, I had to cancel the few appointments or lunch meetups I had. Even as I became more confident and comfortable with larger gatherings as time went on, I dealt with the anxiety of wondering if my husband brought it home to me and I’d unknowingly passed it onto grandma during my single outing of the month.

Please know that this is absolutely not an overreaction. Nearly every single healthcare family goes through the same exact thing. After what doctors, nurses and hospital staff have seen in the last 2.5 years, it’s a very normal response. You want to protect your family and community. 

Which led to a very lonely existence for me. 

Which proved more painful again and again by watching people I love gather, gather and gather some more. Before vaccinations and after vaccinations during surges when hospitals and the CDC begged for people to stop getting together. They got to enjoy connection when we were alone. Our little healthcare family wasn’t considered during a Thanksgiving gathering or big blow out birthday party. And yet, we were considering them as we sat alone. 

It made me feel like we didn’t matter; that I didn’t matter. And I was isolated on an island in the middle of a huge ocean managing these thoughts and emotions.

This was compounded by the fact that there’s an underlying guilt to living in paradise, somewhere you wouldn’t consider leaving, surrounded by beaches and tropical jungle hikes. I felt incredibly ungrateful for being so sad.

No matter how resilient I am, how many healthy coping mechanisms I tried; it couldn’t erase the fact that I had moved 4,500 miles away to the most isolated island chain in the world during a years-long pandemic that prevented me from meeting more than a dozen people. 

(While the world seemed to carry on.)

Then I read some journals from my childhood at the beginning of this year for a big project I’m working on.

I saw in plain, black and white writing that for the vast majority of my life, I’ve been resilient. I’ve done the tough work. I’ve taken on responsibilities that weren’t mine because other adults weren’t willing to do it. I’ve carried the weight because it was the right thing to do.

It hit me like learning to drive a manual car that suddenly stalls out thrashing me forward only to leave me breathless and panicking that I’ve done the wrong thing.

I absolutely didn’t need to be resilient any longer. 

I was tired, and rightfully so.

I’d tried everything, hoping something would click, something would work. I was looking for the silver bullet when there was none. Mental health is a bit more complicated than that. 

I had been on anti-depressants/anxiety medication previously and it was mostly situational. I got an extra hand during times that were completely out of my control. See: an absent parent and the trials and tribulations of medical school and residency.

In many ways, I’m in a much better place now than I was then. The fruits of our labors in our careers had just come to reality. We finally were living where we wanted to be and doing just what we had set out to do. 

Thinking I didn’t deserve this point in our lives stuck with me throughout that pandemic. I was an ungrateful nutjob for being sad during the pandemic. The words of the Baby Boomer generation rang through my ears, It could be worse. Focus on the positive.

The shitty results?

Far too long, gritting my teeth and bearing it. Forcing myself through self-care exercises and being a shoulder for everyone else to cry on, while I cried alone, until I trepidatiously tip-toed around and finally raised a slow mo version my white flag.

I think I need help.

Help, for me, looked a lot like talking to my therapist more and also talking to a physician. (Not the one whom I married.)

I’ve had to learn what my life looks like truly taking care of myself even if that means not making an effort in other parts of my life. That was probably the toughest part; forcing myself to stop considering others as much and instead, prioritize thinking of me. What a concept?! Without exaggeration, it’s been a life-saving exercise. 

Which leads me to why in May, I set out for a month-long trip back to England to decompress after the most bizarre 2.5 years of my life.

When I started this business, I had this idea that I would hit a certain goal and take a month off to go back to another place I love: England.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t hit the goal. 

My husband reminded me the goal was arbitrary. It didn’t matter I matter; something I tend to forget. 

One of the things that kept me sane these last 2.5 years was fake-planning where I’d travel to next. Hiking Hadrian’s Wall in northern England was one of them.

Hadrian’s Wall stretches 84 miles, coast-to-coast in England. 

84 miles to recalibrate. To decide what I want and don’t. To remind myself that I am a lovely human. 

Spoiler alert: I completed it! 

It was exactly what I needed. It filled my travel heart while giving me time to digest, step after (muddy) step, all the way across glorious England.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen this monumental Roman structure either. At 17, I stopped to see Hadrian’s Wall during my first time in England. I often wonder what 17-year-old Caroline would think of Caroline now. 

I bet she’d be proud.

When I came home in the middle of June after 18 hours of flights, it proved to be a bit of reverse culture shock.

I set down my bags in our hallway and made my way to my office. Everything was neatly arranged on my desk before I left and still in place. I walked past the cabinet filled with files, notebook and records for my small business. Lists upon lists upon lists measuring my productivity or at times, lack thereof.

My stomach immediately felt that knot of anxiety. My lips pursed a bit.

This is a time capsule I didn’t want to open.

I didn’t recognize this person here, the one that left all these things. 

The person who tried so desperately to perform, who clung onto the edge of life while watching everyone else carry on like she wasn’t dying inside. The one who filled her desk with little reminders of how good she had it while not feeling good inside. The one who felt perpetually ungrateful looking outside at paradise from her desk each day.

Who is she?

I wasn’t her anymore. 

I have a more confident heart than I’ve had in years, a gentleness that offers grace for myself and others, and a firm belief that I don’t need to provide anyone an explanation for who I am. 

Everyone deserves that. Everyone. 

Including you.

Here’s to taking care of ourselves. No matter what that looks like. 

And yes, even if it means hiking 84 miles.

I can’t wait to share more about this journey with you.

I’m Here to Validate Your Social Media Break

By

Collectively, we've all considered it.

We've all wondered what it would be like to just peace out and go back to the days when our every move wasn't posted in some form on the internet.

Some people we know have even—gasp—done it!

Social media specifically feels so…smoke and mirrors.

You know those yearly holiday cards we get? The ones where everything comes across as hunky dory?

The thing is, our holiday cards, similar to social media, aren't meant to reveal every skeleton in our collective closet.

It's a chance for us to celebrate the small joys with some cheerful smiles. It feels like a brief moment of happiness. I legit look forward to getting cards each and every year.

Especially because they are special. Holiday cards only come once a year.

But, social media is all day. Every day. In yo' face.

While social media for me was a fun space for storytelling, ones that I enjoyed making people laugh with my sometimes entertaining shenanigans. It has, over time, become somewhat heavy. A reflection of the current state of the world, no doubt.

Over the last year, I found myself posting less and less anyway. Feeling a deep need for more privacy and personal space from the seemingly fake social media rat race of it all.

I naively thought that the deliberate misinformation that was occurring on these online channels was actively being checked. Reigned in. Independent investigations acknowledged.

Then, the Facebook whistleblower gave her testimony on Capitol Hill.

And that was it for me.

I knew I needed to step back and take into account how much time I wanted and needed to spend on social media.

The hard truth is, my entire business is based on referrals. There is something magical about that too. Knowing that my work is recommended enough that former clients hand out my name to friends and family is a wonderful feeling.

There is also something demanding about that too. People know me and recommend me often based on what I've written about that has been shared on social media.

Ah, the catch 22 the Zuck knows all too well.

What happened around the time of the Facebook whistleblower hearing earlier this fall was a perfect storm of sorts in my own life anyway.

Life got in my face asking me what the hell I wanted knowing going back to normal wasn't an option, we're now in the new normal. Buckle up. It was the back to basics session that my heart and mind desperately needed.

I quietly left posting on Facebook and Instagram all together.

I put up an away message on both channels in case anyone needed me for business-related projects.

I deleted the apps off my phone.

I checked in on both sporadically via my computer and sometimes, if I'm honest, on my browser on my phone.

But ultimately, the doomscrolling stopped.

My hive mind was quiet for the very first time in years.

I rested while the world carried on.

Without me.

And it was perfectly okay.

There were FOMO times (described below), but legitimately ask yourself: if the people involved in your life are only seeing and interacting with what you post online and not with you outside of that, are those considered close connections? Are those people who will have your back? Are those people who know everything that is going on in your life?

Sometimes the answer is yes! Sometimes it's…debatable.

And it's okay if it's tough to swallow that reality pill.

It's also totally okay to have close online connections with people who aren't in your day-to-day, pick-up-the-phone life. Gosh, I've made some amazing, life changing connections through social networking.

Some have turned into offline friends too!

Some were friends from years past that our only connection now is through social media. Those are wonderful too!

But if you fear going offline because no one will know what's going on in your world, that's a time to take stock of the relationships you have with people who love you.

And for the record, people do love you.

The Plan Going Forward:

In order to maintain some semblance of control over my narrative, you'll be finding more of my entertaining stories on my email list.

You can sign up here.

I'll still be on social media, but in a much more intentional way. My business dictates a presence there and while I'd like to work my way away from that—as others have proved you can—I'll need a bit more time to see how the next few months play out.

That's the full, honest truth.

It would be great to yank that band-aid off, but since so much of my business IS storytelling, (and I sure do love storytelling), most of it often happens on social channels. So, I need to dip my toes back in slowly before deciding if I want water wings to jump back in or to lay permanently on the beach.

The beach sounds good now, doesn't it?

I always maintained that social media was a positive thing in my life as I used it for sharing life anecdotes or entertaining shenanigans, and connecting with other amazing human beings. But if the pandemic showed me anything, it was how nasty people can be when they are hurting.

And the world is hurting right now.

The doomscrolling turned into me doubting the good in the world and that's not a place I like to set up shop in for long.

So I've curated my feed. Deleted the drama. Followed hashtags that bring me joy. And quieted the noise, albeit probably temporarily.

I'm carving out specific times each week to be on the socials and certain times my phone is down and away from those feisty fingers ready to see what your kids dressed up as for Halloween because OMG THEY ARE THE CUTEST!

How To Limit You Social Media Intake:

If you want to start on the path to living a life more in the present and less about sharing what you've had for lunch, welcome!

So many people feel similarly to you. I've been off social media previously, so take these steps from someone who has been there, done that.

  1. If you're someone who posts, start by seeing how often you have the urge to post. Sit with that for a hot second before tip-tapping away on your phone or keyboard. Very often, for me, it was something funny to share, but it took me out of the present and veered the focus car away from a task I was in the middle of. Once you see how often your brain thinks to share, you'll see how much you're missing in real life. From there, limit what you're sharing to the very best or planned content.
  2. If you're someone who stalks. Wait, there's a better way to say that… If you're someone who doesn't post much but lurks, delete the apps from your phone. No, really. (It doesn't delete your content, just the apps themselves.) Think of this like taking away a pacifier from your kid. You're gonna go looking for it a lot in the beginning, but soon after, you realize you don't need it as much. Plus, if you're like me and need to be on the channels for your biz, limit your time initially to having to log in from a computer.
  3. If you're really taking a hard core break like I have, utilize the away message that FB and Instagram allows for business pages. This is what mine said:
    Hey! I’m taking a social media break. If this is work-related or you’re looking for a fun-loving copywriter who knows way too much about the British monarchy, shoot me an email. caroline@notyouraveragegal.com. The world feels heavy right now — know that we’ll get through this too. Be sure to take care of your kind hearts, my loves. 💛
  4. If you need a social channel for the connection to groups (these are the main reasons I still have a FB account), use the news feed eradicator for Chrome, the time limit option on your phones to limit the amount of time you're consuming or use the Freedom app that I love so much.
  5. If you've found yourself doomscrolling again, offer yourself some grace. These applications are literally designed to be addictive. It's totally okay to reverse course once you can feel yourself being sucked back in and try a different route. Maybe those time limits were too short? Maybe you find you like Instagram better? Maybe you want to have a beer with Zuckerberg and ask, “WTF are you thinking?”

What You May Feel After Limiting your Time on Social Media:

Relief.
I don't need to be everywhere, know everything, see all.the.things and consume each picture and post to still be involved in people's lives.

Happiness.
I can curate my real life feed with things like: art, cooking, reading and watching a damn show without scrolling social media.

FOMO.
I've definitely had to tell people I don't know what they're talking about because I didn't see their post. Guess what? It's totally cool. I got filled in and we moved on.

Boredom.
I'm not quite sure what to do with my hands when I'm tasked with filling the time I'd normally be scrolling, with…real life things. The funny thing is, I figured it out pretty quickly by meditating or reading. My resting heart rate also decreased 10 points in just one month of being off and focusing on…me.

Forgiveness.
I've had to promise myself that I wouldn't be mad about seeing how much time I've spent of my life on social media. Once you start seeing it after being off it, it can be upsetting. It's okay!

What To Do Next:

Sign up for my sassy newsletter to get the goodies on what's going down on my side of the Pacific.

Take inventory of what you're consuming. Does it make you feel good? Does it toss you down the rabbit hole of envy, anger or sadness?

Know that with or without limiting your social media, you will be okay.

For me, it boiled down to where I wanted to spend my time and how my body felt about that.

Limiting my social media showed me I made the right choice.

Your “right choice” may be very different.

P.S. To those of you who noticed my absence and reached out to me, thank you. While it seemed I quietly left the social media party like any good Irish goodbye does, it was more-so an intentional signing off on my part. I didn’t feel the need to put up a post about what was going on. Still don't, in fact. That may have felt abrupt based on some of the concerned messages I got. Let me tell you, for a middle child whose parents have forgotten her birthday, you reaching out to say you missed me meant a lot. I see you. I hear you. I love you for saying that I mean something in your life. Thank you. Now, go carry on with your day before I get all emotional typing this out alone on my kitchen island.

Have You Tried a Hard Restart? A Lesson in Grace.

By

I knelt alongside the shards of broken glass now strewn across my kitchen floor when it happened.

That tight wad of stress, knotted in my stomach, suddenly became undone. My brain, clenched in fight-or-flight, finally released its tight grip.

My body said softly to me, “Enough.”

It gently nudged me while I was on my knees, cleaning up this broken jar I accidentally knocked off the kitchen counter.

Enough with this high-alert, survival mode.

You're done.

I cried for a solid 10 minutes that night months ago.

Alone.

In my kitchen.

Sweeping up shards.

Picking up larger pieces of glass.

Putting them in an old Amazon box.

Sweeping again.

Washing the floor.

Then vacuuming.

Picking up every last piece of this metaphor for what keeping it together for nearly 2 years actually looks like.

It was only the second time in the last 20 months that I had cried about the pandemic.

The first of which was alone in my office, 4,500 miles away in Michigan, after my husband came home to tell me he had intubated a patient he didn’t think would live and holding back tears himself, said he didn't want to be the last face she ever saw.

From then on out, I buckled down in survival mode. Bracing myself for the rest of what was to come.

From patients passing away to infants testing positive to those yelling at my husband and the entire department, telling them they are liars and the virus was some giant conspiracy. Screaming in the very place they came to looking for help that uses the very same science they are decrying is a hoax.

You know, also toss in moving across an ocean, buying our first home, a divisive election, a deadly insurrection, sick family members, somehow science now being divisive, trying to avoid getting exposed to the virus yourself with how much your husband is seeing it and then, make new friends when you can’t gather, why dontchya?

Each experience told, I digested.
Sometimes I wrote about it.
Sometimes I vented about it.
But mostly, I carried on.

For 20 months, I've used the tools in my coping toolbox to move forward as much as I could during a global pandemic.

I've run more miles training for my two 10K races this year, with another race coming up, than I ever did training for all my half-marathons. I've read more books in the last two years than the previous 4 years before that. I cook endless new recipes. I talk to my therapist at least every 6 weeks. I Zoom with my girlfriends nearly every Sunday to laugh and cry together. I buckled down, focused on my business more and joined a business monitorship. Updated my website, services and introduced new ones. I kept going.

Kept swimming.

Graciously, it has worked. I was sad for some moments or weeks, but forging along nonetheless. Grateful for this new chapter 4,500 miles away in our gorgeous new hometown. Happy to be healthy, and yet, simultaneously bummed that each morning has begun to feel like Groundhog's Day. The isolation of an island and a new home has felt heavier and heavier with each new surge.

And then last month, after an upsetting event that in the end turned out to be okay, my body alerted me to stop during an annoying, but surely non-life threatening moment.

During the throes of this unsettling situation, I accidentally knocked off a jar on the kitchen counter while trying to move too quickly from task to task.

That's when it happened.

All alone and amongst the backdrop of broken glass now sprawled out on my kitchen floor…I yelled, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

I stared in momentary silence.

Then cried.

I quietly cried alone in my kitchen, as broken as the glass at my feet.

In the days and weeks that followed, I felt like this hormonal shell of a human being just weeping at anything remotely touching. I actively tried to hold back the tears even in the most mundane of moments. My husband was sad about how sad I suddenly was. I couldn't control the emotions the way I had for the past 20 months.

I felt like my body was working against me, like it had given up on me.

But the proverbial pandemic cork had popped. 20 months of hard-fought, high-alert survival mode had come to an end.

My body wasn't giving up—it was trying to keep me together by telling me to freakin' stop.

Enough, Caroline.

We weren't built for this. None of us were.

Enough.

“Have you tried a hard restart?”

Much like IT tells you after you’ve exhausted all other options to get your operating system up and running. I knew I needed a hard restart.

Having known the effort it takes to claw your way out of the well of depression, I knew I needed to get back to basics to prevent it. I didn't want to stare at the edge of what could become a spiral; I knew I needed to offer myself grace, kindness.

I wanted to take care of me.

(Heck it only took close to 40 years for me to figure that out.)

The basics meant this:

Take care of my needs vs. my wants.
Body first. Above all else.

I may want to stay up watching TikToks, but my body needs legitimate rest. I may want to skip breakfast because the thought of making it overwhelms me, but I need and deserve nourishment. I may want to hit snooze and avoid my day, but my body needs the first early morning hours to take care of myself (meditate, eat, stretch, listen to affirmations, etc.).

Back to basics.

From there, I found resilient relief in other areas of my life.

I don't need to respond to every text.
I don't need to check my email first thing in the morning.
I don't need to be on social media right now.
I don't need to be productive to be worthy.

(That last one is tough. But, I'm working on it.)

The irony is, the less pressure I put on myself to be productive, the more I accomplished. I've been able to focus better on the things that matter to me.

Creativity.
My business.
Friends and family.
Travel.

So often I've worried that my tough times were a burden to others. I'm happily the safe space people use or lean on. But this time, I needed them. This time, I needed to be confident that the way I was taking care of myself wouldn't affect relationships. I needed to trust my own damn needs. I needed time. I needed some space. I needed to not be a rock for others when that's exactly what I was looking for from them. I need to trust and lean into that support system I have. I needed to trust and lean into knowing what I needed for myself.

Which was something different for me.

Knowing that my response, lack of response, lack of checking in or setting a boundary to take care of myself temporarily may not be what loved ones were looking for from me.

And I had to be okay with that, even if they weren't.

Radical self-love isn't a linear journey, pals.

It's exhausting, in fact.

The type of internal work that needs to be done isn't as simple as checking off the To-Do's on your list. It's the deep work. The unlearning work. The type of work your ancestors would be proud of for stopping the cycle of generational trauma in its tracks.

It’s also the kind of work that we can't brag about. We don't get to seek validation for it like we do with sharing or posting the perfect day or scene or family or couple or whatever. As much as I've talked about the benefits of therapy and taking care of my mental health, more than most really, it's not exactly light conversations.

It's not the kind of chit-chat or banter that occurs over brunch. (As much as I believe it can be and connect so much more with people who are vulnerable.) It can be heavy stuff in a world that already feels so heavy.

It's the slog rebuttal to the chirpy, “This is fine. Everything is fine.”

It's the hidden work. The heavy work. The undoing. The kind of work where you ask why you think the way you do because evolving as humans means unlearning the shit we've believed.

Why you believe you're unworthy.
Why you seek external validation for your productivity.
Why your mind races a million miles a minute.
Why you can't seem to be proud of yourself.
Why you forgive others so gracefully, but rarely do it for yourself.
Why it took a shattered jar on your kitchen floor one evening for you to listen to your body telling you it couldn't carry on like this any more.

A Time for Grace.

Something categorically changed in me for the better during this quiet time of these past months.

I allowed myself to take a hot second and acknowledge what a wreck this year has been. To really feel it. (That doesn't mean it wasn't a great year in some aspects too. They can coexist.)

This isn't the hardship Olympics either!

I'm exhausted with people comparing how bad they may have it compared to someone else.

This isn't a time to remind someone that you're going through something too. Anyone with an ounce of compassion knows that already based on the current state of the world.

You don't need a reason more legitimate than someone else's to be exhausted. This pandemic is a collective trauma for all of us. Whether others are willing to acknowledge that or not, well, that isn't my responsibility.

For healthcare workers and their families, it has been a mental battle to stay afloat and not just drift out into an endless sea of apathy.

Gosh, it all feels so heavy.

Everyone is in the thick of it.

The person who cut you off. The person who snapped at you. The person who ghosted you. The person who snickered at your misfortune. The person who blocked or deleted you.

It's not up to me to figure out.

But guess what? It's not up to you either.

Past Blog: Courageous work is full of critics.⁠

When I trust that people are doing the best they can, that frees up a lot of headspace and energy for kinder pursuits.

When I know that stepping back sometimes means peacing-out, I don't take it personally.

When I sincerely hope a person is doing well regardless if they've been nasty to me behind my back; when I offer them grace, it allows me to give it to myself too.

For everything. For the lack of energy. For the way I would have done things differently. For taking a hot minute to myself and getting back to basics.

Everything.

A hard restart.

A time for grace.

Even if it's for you.

Especially if it’s for you.

9 People Share Their Daily Pandemic Schedules

By

One of the best things I've discovered from running Not Your Average Gal is that we are far more alike than different. Since being somewhat socially isolated for nearly a year can often lead us to believe we're doing things alone or differently, I wanted to ask people to share what their daily schedules look like.

The common thread I found when asking questions about daily schedules is this: we're all taking it day-by-day. No one has the “right” answers. Some days are better than others. Some days give inklings of the days of pre-COVID yore. Some days mean eating mac ‘n cheese in my pajamas at 11 am with enough dry shampoo in my hair to start a fire if anyone dares light a match near me. Some just flat out resemble the chaotic, messy aftermath of a lively Jojo Siwa concert.

Take heed in knowing you're not alone and see how these 9 families have adjusted their daily schedules to meet the needs of ever-changing guidelines and an unrelenting pandemic.

Kristie Peterson

Las Vegas, Nevada

4th Grade Public School Teacher

Kids: Age 6

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

Wake up and get myself and my daughter ready for school. My husband also works from home, so at times we have breakfast together.  Then, we all head to our different rooms of the house to work. My husband is upstairs, daughter in the kitchen, and I'm in the dining room/playroom/now office. My husband's schedule changes depending on when he has meetings, so sometimes we have lunch together. Then, back to our designated areas.

While I'm teaching 36 4th graders online, I'm also helping my first grader. Many times her little miss independent attitude and sassiness drives me nuts, BUT I am thankful for her amazing teacher and her perseverance to do things on her own right now. Then, in the evenings, we all come together AGAIN. One of us usually takes our daughter for a walk or a bike ride to get out of the house, we run errands, and make and eat dinner.

Is this daily routine different now than when the pandemic first began? 

Beginning of the pandemic school wasn't nearly as structured. We were just trying to stay afloat. Teachers weren't grading anything and student attendance wasn't strongly monitored. 

Now, it is like we are at school, but all online. 

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

Watching my little social butterfly crave being with her friends.

What is the best thing to come out of the pandemic?

Parents now realize what teachers really do!

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

I am the type of person who doesn't tend to enjoy a lot of change.  So, I tell myself, the only constant thing right now is change.  It makes me feel a little better….sort of. 

Favorite quote:

“We can do hard things.”

Glennon Doyle

Kamalpal (Paul) Roy

Walnut Creek, California

Environmental Functional Area Group Leader for Waste and Air Quality at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory

Kids: Ages 3 and 9 months

When did you first start getting scared/nervous about COVID-19?

When I read in early March that there was a cruise ship containing 3500 people in the port of Oakland (about 20 minutes from our home) with confirmed cases on board.

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

Mornings: Up at ~7:55AM, triage my inbox in bed, make coffee and breakfast, check if I have any meetings where I will be expected to have my camera on, and shower if needed. Attend my morning meetings via WebEx.

Afternoons: Routinely go for a long walk (~7500 steps with hills) with my wife in our neighborhood with our masks on, determine what we will have for lunch and dinner, and finish off my 1,000th WebEx of the day.

Evenings: Make either a cocktail or mocktail (depending on the level of pandemic fatigue experienced that day), try and fit in another walk with the boys, take the dogs out to the backyard, jump into the hot tub, and make dinner as a family (our kids are not all that helpful).

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

Not being able to see our family and friends, which includes the traveling aspect for us.

What is the best thing to come out of the pandemic?

The birth of our second son, the time that I have spent with my family, and the new administration in the White House.  

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

Treat your home office work life like you were still going to the office in person with respect to your children. Meaning, if you would not be able to get involved with caretaker issues with your children while you were at work, don't do it now just because you are home.

Favorite quote:

“This too shall pass.”

Medieval Persian Sufi poets

Meg McClure

London, England, UK

Former study abroad coordinator

When did you first start getting scared/nervous about COVID-19?

By mid-February, my workplace was beginning to put extra hygiene measures into place (extra signage, a hand sanitizing station in the building foyer, etc) and we were having weekly meetings to assess the situation. When our programs in Florence, Italy made the decision to send the students back to their homes in the US and continue the learning online at the end of February, this was a big line-in-the-sand moment.

Meanwhile, my friends in Italy (where I lived for most of my 20s) were reporting strict lockdown measures beginning to be put into action. It was around this time that I worried it would soon impact the UK – and a week later, I contracted the virus myself!

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

My day begins around 10AM. I’ve never been a morning person my whole life, so I’m enjoying leaning in to my natural circadian rhythms! My boyfriend brings me coffee in bed around 10AM; I read the newspaper online and sometimes have a phone call or two.

I make lunch for the both of us and either do some domestic things around the house, volunteer at a local food bank, spend time online job hunting or participating in market research; or take a walk/do some grocery shopping, depending on what day it is.

I make dinner for us 80% of the time; we generally eat around 7 and spend the evening watching movies or TV together or, in good weather, walking along the river or in the forest preserve near our apartment.

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

Not being able to see friends and family, and losing my job. I had been contemplating a career change anyway, but it’s been challenging, seeing my industry all but crumble in front of me. It will take awhile for study abroad to return to “normal,” and I don’t doubt it will have to find a new normal.

On more of a “first world problems” note, not being able to travel has been soul-destroying. Martin and I had high hopes of escaping to the Maldives or the Seychelles this winter, and that’s definitely not happening, given how things are going in the UK under lockdown. At present, it’s just not possible to even plan any trips, which is where I find joy!

Not singing has also been devastating for me. Although my choirs do online rehearsals and social events, I struggle with these – for me, nothing replaces the collective soul of singing together in the same room.

Looking back, what is your favorite memory of 2020?

There have been several socially distanced surprise visits to friends. I arranged with my best friend’s husband to pay her a surprise visit not long after she had her baby. When the time came, he coaxed her outside without telling her that she had a visitor; I was waiting in a mask, face shield and gloves! We spent a great afternoon catching up in her backyard – me 25 feet away under my own biohazard tent!

Another friend was shielding at home on Halloween, so three of our mutual friends and I put on Halloween costumes, stood in her front garden, scratched on her window like cats and when she opened the curtains, we did a choreographed dance to Kate Bush’s “Wuthering Heights”, one of her favorite songs. I prepared a “Love, Actually” esque homage with cue cards for another friend who was quarantining at home and stuck on her own on Christmas Eve, again from the safety of her front window. Finding creative ways to socialize without getting too close has been fun!

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

Be kind to yourself! None of this is normal, and it’s OK to feel overwhelmed or under-energized. If you can’t quite manage to stick to a strict routine like you may have had in pre-plague days, hey – that’s OK.

Favorite quote:

“Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.”

 Oscar Wilde

Kendra Caralis

Grosse Pointe Woods, MI

High School Social Studies Teacher

Kids: Ages 9, 7 and 2

When did you first start getting scared/nervous?

We took the boys on a trip in February to London and Paris, and I was a little apprehensive but not too worried yet. Then the week before everything shut down, my dad got married in NC. We took the boys on a plane and I remember thinking, “Is this really a good idea?” We got home on a Monday, school shut down that Friday.

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

Well, the boys are back to hybrid, so it’s a little more normal. Some mornings we have to get them out the door for school, other mornings I leave without them and they are at home for the day doing async work. I don’t have to rush out to pick them up from school anymore so I’m actually able to stay at my school later in the evenings and do work. We still do dinner, and I work out more often now in order to destress.

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

Seeing our boys struggle in school has been tough. Some topics just don’t get done, and we have to be ok with that. This year is different, and we are doing the best we can. The other part was my gym closing. It had been my release and was a huge help with my mental health struggles. Not having that was a big big change. I’m thankful it’s been back open now since September.

What is the best thing to come out of the pandemic?

So many more students know how to do things online for school. I can give assignments in our physical class and they know how to submit them. Less copies to make at school. I also was able to eat lunch like an adult instead of rushing during a quick lunch break at school. That was nice. 

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

Be ready to adjust and change it. Make time for yourself as well. My time at the gym has been huge and necessary.

Favorite quote:

“I am not the same, having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world. ”

Mary Anne Radmacher

Judi Kwon

Rochester Hills, MI

Purchasing professional

Kids: Age 4

When did you first start getting scared/nervous? 

Just about right away.  My sister is an epidemiologist and with all the people I know in the medical field, I don't mess around. The last week I was in the office, I distinctly recall being in the ladies' room and hearing someone use the facilities and then walk out without washing her hands even though stores were ALREADY running out of disinfectant, hand sanitizer, and hand soap. Also, seeing people carry on with their plans for St Patty's day- We were doomed.

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

I start at 7am so I usually roll out of bed by 6:30/6:45.  I do get a workout outfit on or at least part of one because it makes it easier to get out the door for a midday or mid-afternoon run. In the summers I prefer a late-evening run. When it's nice out, we spend a lot of time outdoors as a family just taking care of things around the house.

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

Not having the OPTION to see friends.

What is the best thing to come out of the pandemic?

RUNNING and my run friends, getting to know my new neighbors in Rochester through virtual groups.

Looking back, what is your favorite memory of 2020? 

Making myself run in the cold and heat and learning I can push myself further than I thought previously!

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

Make time for yourself. Reach out to others who you care for and don't be afraid to call people out on their shit. Sometimes they need that reality slap.

Favorite quote:

“I stopped waiting for light at the end of the tunnel. I lit that bitch up myself.”

Adrienne Rönmark

Troy, MI

Violinist, Detroit Symphony Orchestra
Private Violin Teacher 
PR/Marketing Director Brookfield Academy Education Foundation

Kids: Ages 12, 10, 8

When did you first start getting scared/nervous?

I remember sitting on stage rehearsing Beethoven 9 with over 150 people including a chorus the day before the concerts were all cancelled. Schools had been shut down the week before, and we knew Covid was risky. We had a discussion onstage about whether we should proceed with the rehearsal since we knew that new emergency orders were coming out by the hour and there was a good chance the week's concerts would be cancelled. I just kept thinking about all of the people in the room, how close we all were and how much I was breathing in other people's air. Then I got the Emergency Alert stay at home order pushed to my Apple Watch during rehearsal. It was the most uncomfortable and nervous I've been in a long time, and my job is to perform for thousands of people multiple times a week. 😬

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

Kids are all virtual learners from home, so mornings are prepping them for the start of school. Periodic check ins during the day to make sure that technology is all working and they are logging on to the proper links at the right time. Constantly cooking (feeding three children at home is no joke, I swear they eat twice as much as they would at school…hello Costco delivery)! Afternoons are spent managing homework, organizing online tutoring sessions, and cooking dinner. Evenings I turn in early to push start again the next day. Usually fall asleep to YouTube gardening videos (my new hobby) to calm the mind and destress. Weekends are my work days, teaching online for DSO Civic Youth Ensembles, maintaining my private studio of young violinists, and recording recitals and donor relation videos for DSO. Any spare time is spent running fundraising campaigns for my kids' school's Education Foundation, as well as gardening!

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

The loneliness. Most days I don't talk to any adults other than my husband. I miss the casual social interactions at work, and I miss having moments of the day when I am not “in charge.”Being a parent is always 24/7, but being a working parent outside of the home gives you respite to know that someone else is caring for your kids for a few hours and you can mentally go “on call.”Being home 24/7 with kids AND having to balance work and their mental health, and my mental health…it's kind of a losing battle. As much as I am sincerely grateful for the time I've gained with my family this past year, I really look forward to filling my own bucket with some solitude and adult conversation!

What is the best thing to come out of the pandemic?

Definitely getting to see my husband more! During a normal year his work schedule (he's VP and GM for DSO) is on overdrive and even though we work for the same organization, I never get to see him at work. Since March 2020 he has been working from home, and it's SO nice to feel a part of a team as well as have his humor to get through the day! Parenting is hard enough, but when you don't have a teammate to good cop/bad cop, it can absolutely put you under. I'm so thankful for our family game nights and movie nights, pizza Fridays, taco Tuesdays, and just all getting to be together during a time in their childhood when their school and individual interests would be moving them apart. 

Second best thing? Starting my vegetable garden! 

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

As tempting as it is since we are all in our pjs all day, DON'T CHECK EMAIL IN BED 😆 No, seriously. I constantly am revamping our bedroom to function as studio space/recording space/personal sanctuary space and it is SO important to have clear boundaries on where and when you do your work.

Favorite quote:

“To see and be seen. That is the truest nature of Love.”

brené Brown

Meghan Jameson

Evans, GA

Full-time mom, 2nd grade facilitator, preschool teacher, general contractor (major house renos), family barber, manager of Tidewater Solutions.

Kids: Ages 8 and 3

Which month did you start adjusting your day-to-day routine?

Day 1. As soon as schools were closed. I no longer went to work. The kids no longer went to school. My husband, Matt, was home, mostly all day every day. I barely even tried to continue teaching 1st grade to my daughter. There was no live instruction then, it was all on the parents and I was like, “Uhhhh yeah forget it.” And the videos that my son's preschool teachers sent over? So cute, but no freaking way. My daughter Face-timed with her friends for hours, I mean hours, every day. Prior to that she had never done that, or texted anyone, or even heard of Facebook messenger. 

I had no idea when the hell it would end. I did finance committee meetings for the theater that was my client in the garage from my car because it was the only place I could get peace and quiet. I worked from the kitchen table instead of the office so I could keep an eye on the kids while they destroyed the house. I was interrupted approximately every 5 minutes, and my kids watched way too much TV. When I was about to lose it, Matt would put them in the car and just drive. Nowhere to go, but he would just drive for hours. 

I was never meant to be a stay at home mom. I always said I wasn't cut out for it, and it was honestly terrifying to me that I had to figure out how to be a parent ALL. DAY. LONG. I had no idea what to do. Stay at home parents make plans. They have play dates. They get out of the house because not getting out MAKES YOU CRAZY. I LOVED my job, and all I wanted to do was go to work, not be home with my kids and try to be their everything. 

Over time, we started to visit with my parents again out of desperation for all of us, and that was a blessing. Finally being able to share the load of child-rearing with my parents and get a breath every now and then was huge. 

Things were getting worse with Matt's job, so he applied to about 60 jobs (we had an awesome resume writer, cough cough). I was still legitimately terrified of getting and dying from COVID. I have bad luck with that kind of thing and felt certain it would happen to me. 

Around August, our luck changed. Matt was offered the job of a lifetime as General Manager for a brand new theater in Evans, GA, which happened to be an hour from his parents. It truly felt too good to be true. He has to have been the only person in the entire country who was HIRED in the event industry during a pandemic. 

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

7:30AM Wake up, make coffee. Make cinnamon rolls, feed them to the children while they watch Disney+ on the couch. (survival mode, here still)

8:15AM — Matt leave for work (no more waking him up)

8:30AM — load both kids in the car. Count the school buses as we pass them. Drive past the llama farm. Drop my son off at preschool (we saved so much money not having childcare since March. We moved here and I put my son in a church preschool that costs 1/10 of the monthly charge I used to pay — unbelievable. Plus, my mother-in-law is thrilled because he says the blessing before dinner when they come to visit. So what if he thinks that his Baby Yoda is baby Jesus. He's learning).

9:00AM — stop at Gigi's and Papa's house, give them a hug, or stop for a donut if we didn't have cinnamon rolls for breakfast.

9:30AM —My daughter logs in to school from our bonus room in our new house. I thank the heavens every day for her teacher. I go sit in my newly renovated home office and work. My productivity level has increased dramatically since pre-pandemic. 

My daughter interrupts me periodically, but usually I don't mind. 

Sometimes she asks me to sit in the bonus room with her, and well, thank goodness for laptops. 

1PM: Son is out of school — Papa picks him up and they play at his house for the afternoon 

1:45PM — Lunchtime — if it's a nice day, we take the golf cart that we own now (we live near Augusta, GA in a golf cart neighborhood) to the neighborhood McDonald's. We blast the music, let the wind blow our hair and get some lunch and a coffee. 

2:30PM — My daughter is back to school, and I work until she is done at 4:15. 

The evenings vary. No activities yet, so we either cook as a family, eat at my parents, or get some take out. We've started to venture out to eat some now that all the grandparents are vaccinated (and we've had our first dose), but we discovered that dining out with a 3-year-old is still not that fun!!! He choked on a quesadilla the other night and puked all over me in a restaurant. During a pandemic. I may never make friends in this town. 

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

Slow down. Do less, live in the moment. I always heard that, but it took a pandemic to force me to actually do it. Go easy on yourself.

Favorite quote:

“Leave judgement at the door, let curiosity in.”

Sean McKale

Ann Arbor, MI

Orthotist – I make and fit people with all types of braces. My specific team that I manage fits a lot of back braces on people with broken spines, and fit devices on people that have just gone through surgeries to help them to stay immobilized for healing. 

Kids: Ages 8 and 5

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

We are participating in a POD with two other families. In total we have 5 children, and how it works is that 1 parent is the host and then the 5 kids do their school work. Two kids are in the third grade, one is second, and two are in the young 5’s program at our local school. For me, that has meant I am working 4 day work weeks. 

In the fall, I was fortunate to have access to the eFMLA (e stands for emergency) that the federal government made available as were two of the other pod parents b/c they both work for the university. That meant I would work Mon-Thursday and then stay home with the kids on Friday. I am still covering the Pod on Fridays, but now am working 4-10hour shifts to be able to make it all work. Our Pod also gets together often after school on Wed-Fri where the kids continue to play together and we sit and have dinner together. It’s always nice to not have to prepare a meal or clean some dishes. But most importantly is the community aspect of splitting bread with one another. I really feel for the people/families doing this on their own.

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

The hardest thing is not being able to travel and see more family. My wife is from Toronto and we are missing a year in the life of cousins for our children, and not seeing their grandmother. A year is a long time in a young person’s life, and they have both changes so much. 

It is also difficult that they have not been in school and what that means for their own personal growth and learning. We have made the best of this situation, but it is not the best situation. 

What is the best thing to come out of the pandemic?

The Flying Squirrel croquet club. Before Covid I would play garage pool with a group of dads in the neighborhood. Once COVID came about that put and end to that. It began getting warm in the spring and we understood social distancing and being outdoors would be alright. We began playing croquet on Thursday nights in the park next to my friend’s house. He strung up a large number of string lights amongst the tall oak tree’s and we gathered to play in whatever weather occurs. Being out there we have discovered living amongst the trees are some flying squirrels and whenever we saw one soar through the sky it would always bring some excitement to our evening. The fellowship and socialization has kept us all going throughout this, and having fun is such an important thing to do.

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

Find your community, and ask for support. People can not do this on their own. I think we have been reasonable with our POD size but we are not alone on this, and the support from others has been amazing.

Favorite quote:

“Comparison is the thief of joy”

Theodore Roosevelt

Sarah Kennedy

Bloomington, IL

Stay at home mom, part-time dance teacher

Kids: Ages 9 & 11

Which month did you start adjusting your day-to-day routine?

I had to start right away in late March. All in person activities were canceled. I would work with my girls in the morning on school work. They didn't have much to do since the school had to assume the students didn't have a lot to work with at home. I started recording classes for my dance students and eventually moved to having Zoom classes. I learned really quick how to keep preschoolers attention for 30 minutes over Zoom. I have to give so much credit to teachers with virtual teaching. It's tough.

We had a lot more time on our hands as a family. My oldest didn't have 12 hours of gymnastics practice a week, my youngest didn't have in person dance or theater classes. We were home all the time except for doctor appointments. I went grocery shopping every other week. I didn't allow my daughters to play with friends. They got around that rule by sitting/playing by the fence with our neighbor on the other side. I have pictures of my girls playing Roblox with their neighbor friend, with them sitting on each side of our fence. One day in the spring they had a water balloon fight over the fence. (This was actually my oldest daughter's favorite memory of 2020, the daily meetups at the fence) Eventually, I gave in and let my daughters play with a small selected group of friends in the neighborhood outside.

Our area didn't start to open back up until June. At that point, my dance studio opened its doors to students, my oldest was able to return to gymnastics practice and my youngest was able to resume theater. I was super cautious with my dance students, I really emphasized staying apart and practicing Social Dis-Dancing.

What does your current daily routine look like for mornings, afternoons and evenings:

Our routines have almost all returned to pre-Covid, except my husband is still working from home. He really enjoys working from home and dreads the return. State Farm has only a few people who volunteered to return in office right now. He will be one of the last to return in office due to health conditions and being on the list to receive a kidney transplant.

The main difference is schooling. They began the school year completely virtual. The district was much better prepared to offer virtual learning. In October, the district switched to a hybrid schedule for all grades, 2 days in person, 3 days virtual. November we went full virtual again due to increasing cases. January, they returned to Hybrid. Finally in February, elementary is now in school 5 days a week. My oldest is at the middle school and only attends school in person 2 days a week, the other 3 days she is virtual.

All of our pre-covid activities have resumed. We just have to wear masks everywhere. I buy masks like cute socks. You can never have too many. I swear everytime I come home from the grocery store, I come home with another one, plus I make them too.

What is the toughest part of the pandemic?

The constant uncertainty and worry. I hate the feeling I have after each time I visit or drive my father (73yrs) to a doctor appointment. I'm always on edge those 5-7 days after a visit with him. It was so hard to see my dad, who doesn't quite comprehend completely what is going on, have to isolate so much. The residents had to stay in their rooms and eat all meals in room instead of in the dining hall. My father is a very social guy and it was very hard for him. I didn't have him over because with him living with other seniors I didn't want to expose them as well if he were to get sick. They have been able to relax restrictions in the building for the residents. They now rotate who eats in the dinning hall and they are allowed to use the common areas. Last week, they were finally able to vaccinate everyone in his building. That was a huge relief.

For my husband, it was the unexpected death of his father. It wasn't due to covid, it was a heart condition. It was difficult not being able to have the family together in the hospital. Once we knew he wasn't going to recover, the hospital did allow my husband and his brother to be there to support his mom and say goodbye to their dad. We were blessed that they were able to do that since so many others were not allowed to do that during the pandemic.

What is the best thing to come out of the pandemic?

Family time! We enjoyed tv series, movies, and games together. I loved not having to run someplace each night. The pandemic also placed a huge spotlight on what was available locally. We ordered take out from new restaurants.We really made a conscious effort to do our Christmas shopping locally. Funny thing, we actually tried not to order anything from Amazon over the pandemic.

My husband would say the best part is his mountain man beard and hair. We have only cut his hair once since March 2020, and that was because his mom made him for the funeral.

What is one piece of advice that you learned from your own day-to-day that could help others with their daily schedule?

Take it day by day, and be flexible and accepting.

Favorite quote:

“Everyday above ground is a great day.”

Pitbull, Time of our lives

5 Steps To Make A Problem Worse

By

Whether we want to admit it or not—whether social media wants to portray it or not—we’ve all got our fair share of problems. We all have our own way of coping or completely ignoring the problem hoping beyond all hope that it will just go back to it’s dark cavern only to come out around the Thanksgiving table so we can all get some damn good entertainment around here!

It’s the little things, guys and gals.

This isn’t some bullshit guide into the ins and outs of self-care, which very often doesn’t involve bubble baths and a glass of wine, but does look very much like just washing your face and journaling 5 stupid things you’re grateful for, even if it’s that your cat successfully avoided vomiting on the carpet and aimed for the bathroom tile.

Hashtag living my best life.

We may not have the ability to change the hand of cards dealt to us, but we do have the power—and the God damn say!—on how we play the next card. This is an experienced take on how we can make things worse. From a gal who has done it all! Follow these steps to make sure you’re fully embracing making the problem worse.

1) Think about it. All the time.

Spend a majority of your time thinking about how you could have done it better or differently. Try to change things that have already happened. Now think about this while you’re trying to go to sleep. In fact, think about that time you stumbled over your words to your former boss who probably can’t even remember your name. Think about it until you call in the Melatonin troops around 3am.

2) Surround yourself with no one.

Now that I’m my own boss (and I get to sit around and count my millions, a la Scrooge McDuck), I often don’t speak to anyone until the afternoon, when the doctor hubster gets up and does his best impression of a zombie, lumbering down the stairs, mumbling incoherently while making his way to the bathroom.

Be sure not to get out of the house when you’re feeling lonely or reach out to friends for a quick 10-minute call. Don’t go on a walk to enjoy the fresh air and think through things. Cocooning yourself in your home is ideal.

3) Confide in people who don’t have an empathetic bone in their body.

“It could always be worse.”

“You should be grateful for what you have.”

4) Ignore it, entirely.

Another amazing tactic is denial. Just sweep it under the rug and pretend it isn’t there. It will go away. It will rear it’s head another day and maybe then it will be a bigger problem, but you’ll have the ability to cope better by then because you’re isolating yourself, right?

5) Embrace you are the only person to ever deal with this.

Family problems? Friendship problems? Martial problems? Work problems? In-law problems? You probably are the only person who has them. You should also tell yourself this when scrolling through a carefully curated Instagram feed.

BONUS) Eat those 2-week-old leftovers from that Mexican restaurant.

So what if the enchiladas could sing your name and teach you how to count in Spanish at this point. Go for it!

It may not seem like it in a social media driven world, but we’re all go through stuff. Heaping piles of stuff. (Think of that giant pile of shit from Jurassic Park.) Yours may look different than his or hers, but it’s still a pile of annoying problems.

There are ways of coping; healthy, wonderful, productive away of coping. So take heed and don’t do what’s listed above. Find your people. Go on a walk. Talk to your friends. Talk to your therapist. Know you aren’t alone. We’re in this crap together. So here’s to you, the power-through-it-ers.  You’ve got this.