Author: Lisa Gurry

Well hello, old friend. It’s nice to see you again.

It has been so long ago that I have written that I honestly couldn’t remember what my last post was about. Funny, it’s a good reminder as I look back.

The last few months have been so incredibly wild and unexpected. Our country is still in the height of battling the COVID-19 pandemic, despite most other industrialized countries largely containing the virus. It is so sad, so frustrating, and still so very scary.

We are largely still in quarantine – nearly 5 months at this point. We have taken some liberties to give our teenagers a bit more freedom, but what would have been so unheard of just six months ago is now the norm.

I still have no idea when I will see my family in Missouri and Texas again. This breaks my heart the most. Unfortunately, our area (Seattle) got hit early and has maintained a steady state of trouble, and now the virus is now spiking in the areas of those I love. It is terrifying to be so far away and depressing to not know when and how this will end.

My immediate family has spent a lot of together time. My husband and I both have still been working from home. I went into the ghost town of my office – dusty and desolate – to bring a computer monitor home, but otherwise, I haven’t stepped foot in my office. Instead, my days are full of video calls, emails, and juggling a full house with a busy work schedule.

My kids never went back to school this spring. What we initially had hoped would be a few weeks off, turned into a month, and then finally the acknowledgement that there would be no in-person schooling or activities. So they too, have spent their days on screens and video learning.

For several months, our social circle was very limited. First to just the five of us. Then a responsible nanny to help with my youngest. Then to my daughter’s boyfriend and son’s girlfriend. Now, to a few more friends but with careful planning, like spending time outside, careful disinfecting, and more. We are balancing our fear of the virus with the sanity of mental health and trying to live a somewhat normal life. It is hard.

The world seems like such a different place. In our area, masks or facial coverings are required to go into any business. We all look like old-school bank robbers and I miss seeing people’s smiles. “Social distancing” is a thing – where we are supposed to stay six feet apart to limit the virus spread. Indoors is far worse for transmitting the disease – so we haven’t been inside a restaurant, we largely buy our groceries and supplies online, and actually disinfect those same groceries and supplies when they arrive at our home. There is no hugging or physical contact, which is so tough to do when you finally see a friend you haven’t seen in months. Friends and families struggle because of isolation, depression or total disagreement on how to handle a pandemic.

Our family is more conservative than many. But not as much as some. It is really hard to know the right thing to do, particularly with teenagers that you desperately want to help shepherd through these unprecedented times.

Yet, I am reminded to be grateful. We are healthy. We are hoping to stay healthy until they find a vaccine. Those closest to us have also stayed healthy. We are fortunate to have jobs and paychecks. We have been able to enjoy the spring and summer by getting outside.

For me, as an extreme extrovert, I have coped by trying to still do things I love. I go for a run or do a yoga work-out most days. I have read a literal mountain of books. I try to make time quality fun time – not just endless time – with my family. I have really enjoyed hanging with my kids (who have been home so much more) and trying to make them laugh. I have thrown myself into different work projects, which have kept my mind active and connected to people – even if by video. And, I have a few girlfriends that are like beacons of delight when I see them. After a few months, my girlfriend and I started our morning runs again and what a gift they are. Recently I have met up with a few girlfriends to reconnect or go for a hike and I am reminded how much I love my friends.

I’m reflecting tonight because it’s my last night to be 45. I’m at our mountain cabin, enjoying a peaceful night to myself before my family comes up tomorrow. I’ve gone for walks, read a good book, took a hot tub and watched some trash TV. But I wanted to pause and reflect for a minute about this crazy chapter of life – one that I hope passes soon for everyone I love.

In some ways, I wanted to get this summary update post cleared out. As the months go by, you really have to keep fighting to be positive. And I have missed this writing outlet. So as I look ahead to #46 (holy cow!), I’m a little sad that #45 didn’t turn out as I had hoped. Since February, it has been this side of crazy.

But I’m grateful to have my family and my friends. I’m grateful we bought this mountain house and made it a second home I love in October – who knew we would enjoy it so much during a pandemic?? I’m grateful for my career, which has seen some unexpected boosts over the last six months with some exciting developments on the horizon. That risk I wrote about last? It just might be paying off.

As I look forward to #46, I want to remember to choose joy. Choose learning and growth. Choose making the most of each year – even if they are during a pandemic. I really do want to look back on this pandemic as a meaningful moment in my life. I’m not quite there yet. But I’m going to keep trying.

Today I was having a meeting with someone at work, describing how I was approaching a specific project. It’s an important one and I really value this person’s feedback.

After I described the current status, he shared something like, “I see you are taking a very thoughtful approach here, considering your stakeholder’s mindset. I’ve seen you do this frequently.”

Honestly, I was getting ready to say something like, “thank you!” Thoughtful is good, right?

And then he said, “You should do less of this. Sometimes you need to think less and be more selfish.”

Wow. Mind blowing feedback. And really valuable.

In this case, his feedback was along the lines of, “Why aren’t you going for it now? What are you waiting for? You are smart and capable. You should be more confident and go for it. Quit waiting for the perfect moment or anticipating the thoughtful approach for the other person. Sometimes you just need to do what is best for you.”

Over-thinking. An over-riding concern for others. A desire to be likable. An unselfish approach to balancing work and home. Ahhhh….if I could sum up the biggest blockers to my career growth the list would include these at the top.

Now these aren’t necessarily bad things. But if not careful, women in particular, can let these good human traits really slow down professional growth.

It’s not necessarily because we are inherently good people. In many ways this is how we were conditioned from our earliest days – to be good girls, to not rock the boat, to be considerate of others.

I’ve written about the challenges of <not> getting Student of the Month as a child because I was too talkative. As a high school student, I remember actively downplaying my intelligence because as a star athlete, it would be unpopular to be good at too many things. Seriously. And then, when you think you should have outgrown social conditioning, after two decades at my company a respected leader told me I should show more vulnerability to be more….. likable. Vulnerability is a big movement amongst the leadership set – I could handle the advice to be more empathetic, supportive, or relatable – but likable? When did work become a popularity contest?

Another beloved mentor gave me advice I preferred. It’s not your job to be nice, it’s your job to be great.

This is advice I can stand behind. By nature, I am a friendly, nice, and outgoing person. I’ve also been called a bulldog (with an unaffectionate tone, I’m afraid). This dichotomy (be great – not nice; be more selfish – but a good leader and generous teammate; be more vulnerable – but not a push-over) makes it challenging to know how to show up.

Do men even have to think about this stuff? I don’t think nearly as much as women.

Probably because I am a good girl, A+ striver, and over-thinker, I really internalize feedback. Sometimes this is helpful, sometimes it is not.

In this case, I took the push and did the selfish thing. I am going for it.

But not without some thought. And writing this blog:)

I was reminded of one of my favorite passages from Glennon Doyle’s recent book, Untamed. Mind-blowing stuff. If you, too, are a good girl who has passion and goals – this should be required reading.

The passage talks about a woman who passes on a life goal, because she is too busy supporting her kids and her husband. She didn’t want to seem….wait for it…selfish. Glennon asks,

“Why do women find it honorable to dismiss themselves? Why do we decide that denying our longing is the responsible thing to do? Why do we believe that what will thrill and fulfull us will hurt our people? Why do we mistrust ourselves so completely?”

She talks about the conditioning of girls and how “When we are little girls, our families, teachers, and peers insist that our loud voices, bold opinions, and strong feelings are “too much” and unladylike, so we learn to not trust our personalities.” Reading my own words above and the well-intended, but conflicting advice from beloved mentors – no wonder we question ourselves.

Ultimately, “We do not honor our own bodies, curiosity, hunger, judgment, experience, or ambition. Instead, we lock away our true selves. Women who are best at this disappearing act earn the highest praise: She is so selfless.”

And the money question….”Can you imagine? The epitome of womanhood is to lose one’s self completely.”

She goes on to encourage us to quit fearing and start trusting ourselves. And to not be afraid to disappoint everyone before we disappoint ourselves.

It’s a scary concept, but what if we don’t have to be selfless? What if it’s ok to be selfish – or even self first – on occasion? What if the world didn’t end? Our families and friends recognized our gifts, not our martyrdom. Our workplaces knew exactly what we want and what we deserve. Why? Because we speak up. And we embrace our full self.

Sign me up.

Today, like every workday for the past few months, I am working from home.

Now, I am ridiculously lucky to have a job, period, as unemployment skyrockets. And, I am ridiculously lucky to have the opportunity to do my work from home vs. say, the frontline of a hospital or grocery store. Finally, I am ridiculously lucky to have childcare for my youngest with a very safe, diligent and beloved nanny coming to our home each day.

Ok, that all said, this work from home thing has been a grand experiment for me. With mixed results.

Since starting my career after graduate school, I have worked at Microsoft. In an office. Surrounded by colleagues. For 23 (!) years now. I really haven’t known another way.

I did take extensive maternity leaves with each of my three kids. Five months each for my first two and eight months for my third. And then I worked a very flexible schedule for several months when I returned to work after my third child received a devastating health diagnosis just as I was returning work. But these were not work from home breaks – these were taking care of infants and toddlers and definitively not a break. Joyful and precious, yes. A break? No….

For a lot of years since I had my oldest I would structure my calendar to work from home on Friday’s. It saved a commute and was a good day to catch up, write, build presentations, or generally do “thinking” work without an influx of meetings. Often I would work from a coffee shop if the house was too crazy.

So, this whole work from home thing? All new to me.

I have wondered over the years of my career if working from home would be the holy grail. A little bit of work, a little bit of home. Lots of flexibility. No dreaded commute.

But I always knew myself well enough to know it would not be a slam dunk.

So here is what I’ve found so far. Noting this little experiment is during the largest pandemic our world has seen in generations.

1. I miss people. I knew a huge part of work for me has always been social. I like being around people. I have made great friends at work over the years. No amount of video calls replaces the in-person interaction for me.

2. Video calls can be super awkward. I have found they actually work better for group meetings. Even then, there can be an awkward dance of who is speaking. But some of the individual meetings can be painful. One of my employees told me he doesn’t even like talking to his mom on the phone – no wonder video calls with his manager is kind of painful. For different personality types, this dynamic is hard.

3. I miss wearing cute clothes. Now this one is very vain. And there is no reason I can’t wear cute clothes at home. But I’m not vain enough to care enough to dress up in my own house. So now, a dress up day is putting on jeans (vs. running clothes or yoga leggings) and a real shirt (vs. work-out top or sweatshirt).

4. I am working out more, but not as much as I would have thought. Just by not commuting, I should be saving eight hours a week. It’s amazing how that time seems to slip away. I have been working out 5-6 days a week. Since my childcare doesn’t arrive until 10am, I haven’t done morning work-outs as much as I typically do. So while I am on a solid plateau physically, I haven’t emerged as the fitness queen as I had hoped.

5. I am sitting, a lot. I miss my stand up desk from work and will work on getting one for the house now that this looks to be a longish-term arrangement. Sitting is really, really bad for you. In particular, it is terrible for your back, hips and hamstrings. I have to really focus on standing, stretching and walking. So I often am stretching on the floor during conference calls or walking around my block during conference calls (no video!).

6. I am lonely. Perhaps overlaps with #1? I miss the watercooler conversations, lunch with a friend, or just the general chatter that happens as you kick off a meeting or run into people in the halls or office kitchen. A day full of conference calls and email doesn’t lend itself to much time for idle chatter. Turns out I miss idle chatter.

7. I am very protective of my time. I typically am, as time is always super precious. But I get so tired of all day meetings that now I am really particular. I am learning to block my calendar for breaks, for a yoga class I want to take, or prioritizing a virtual happy hour with friends.

8. I have to work hard for work to feel fulfilling. I think this is because the world is heavy right now. There are so many more meaningful things happening in the world right now – does what I’m doing even matter?? I doubt I’m unique in this for those of us in non-essential jobs.

9. My dog will never recover if/when I go back to the office. She is so devoted to me. She typically is, but now that she is used to me being home, I do not know how she will function if I return to the office. I love having my little buddy with me all day. Just staring at me. Napping. And so excited when I take her out for a little walk.

10. I can’t forget the little things that bring me joy. I’ve tried starting each day with my gratitude journal, prioritizing exercise, and connecting with friends as best I can. Even now, I’m listening to my favorite Spotify playlist as I write this. I need to remember that the little things can bring joy and even at home, I can surround myself with fresh flowers, a fragrant candle, good tunes, and other things that bring a little smile to my face through-out the day. The picture above is from my first idealistic, official work from day. That is the only bouquet I’ve had for the past two months. And often I have breakfast or lunch remnants on that nice, clean desk as I hide out. So….yeah…some room for improvement here.

I’ve learned a few other things. I know myself really well. Everything that has kept me in an office job for years has proven to be true. I’m so grateful for my years in the office with so many wonderful people. My kids do not want to hang out with me all day. This may have been different when they were younger, but now, they are more than content with a few hello’s and a hand-delivered lunch. Seriously:) I’m not missing anything at home. At least during quarantine.

If this continues, I hope to at least balance my days with a bit more social time, some cute outfits, and a sense of fulfillment. For now, I’m taking it one day at a time.

It is a lazy Saturday morning and I am feeling grateful.

I took an unexpected break from writing – like everything in this quarantine, there is no guidebook and there are no rules. I’m playing it by ear, focusing on my families health and happiness. And hanging on to my sanity as best I can.

You realize as the weeks and months go by how strange this all is. Isolating from humans is unknown to most of us. And it certainly has been a reminder of how much I appreciate the luxuries of life – like people.

I’m struck that we are collectively living through a chapter of history – really, one of the first notable moments in a generation. I’m trying to remember this, while also going through the motions of life.

Because for me, work hasn’t stopped – if anything, it has been far busier than normal. Balanced with working from home for the first time. And not just working from home, but working from home with a full house. My kids are doing online school and the days somehow pass by for all of us. I do think we’re finding ways to have joy most days.

This morning, though, I’m feeling immense gratitude. My house is sleeping in, which is unusual for my youngest. It is nearly 10am and I’ve been up for hours. I’ve had the chance to enjoy a hot cup of coffee and read my book by my front window. There is a steady rain, my dog sits beside me, and I’m reminded that really, everything that matters to me is right in the world.

I have read a lot of books this quarantine. I would heartily recommend anything in this stack below.

That was my first stack. Now I am on to my second stack. I am grateful for good books who can teach you something, inspire you or simply let you escape.

My current book, “City of Girls” by Elizabeth Gilbert, was meant to be an escape. It’s a story of a woman growing up in NYC in the 1940’s. It is a delightful story and it also hits on the remarkable history of the time.

As I am reminded about the sacrifices of the World War II generation, I am again reminded that this current quarantine is so privileged – at least for my family. We aren’t worried about anyone’s safety in the war, like my grandfather who served in World War II. We aren’t challenged with a lack of basic essentials like my grandparent’s who grew in the Depression and during the war. I remember their stories of food rations, their hours picking cotton in the fields of the south, traveling to Washington to pick apples with migrant workers, moving across the country to California to find opportunity and so many more sacrifices, just to survive.

That level of sacrifice is so foreign to me and for that, I am so lucky.

This particular moment in history is so challenging for many of us because our lives have been so….easy. We stress over toilet paper shortages and I’m reminded of my mom describing using pages of the Sears catalog for toilet paper in the outhouse at her grandma’s house. There wasn’t a toilet paper shortage, they were just poor. We are concerned about our boredom when we should be reminded that boredom is really the ultimate luxury. And we have unprecedented options for entertainment. There are no black-outs, energy shortages, or books rationed.

Really the context of history is so helpful. You are reminded that this chapter will ultimately be, a chapter, in the rich history of the world. And generations before us have survived and persevered through so much more.

Now, this blog really only applies to me and my immediate universe. I continue to be so grateful for the helpers who are healing the sick and keeping our world running, putting themselves in grave danger. It doesn’t account for the homeless or hungry, of which there are many. It doesn’t reference the domestic abuse survivors or other people who are in danger, in their own home.

But it does remind me to be grateful. To enjoy my quiet morning. And to keep choosing joy.

Inspiration can come from funny places. Tonight it comes from Twitter. A woman I admire, Sally Bergesen, who founded women’s running apparel company Oiselle (fantastic brand worth supporting) tweeted tonight,

“It’s good to remember that ‘the way things used to be’ were familiar, yes, but also flawed. And if nothing is like it used to be, then the future might be something positive that we never imagined.”

Right on.

How awesome that a better future than we could have previously imagined might await us?

Maybe this will be one of those times that really makes you realize what matters most. What brings you joy. How important your people are. How you want to spend your days. What brings meaning. It’s inspiring to think about how might we all be better people when we emerge?

I really hope to be. I hope to take some significant meaning from this hopefully once-in-a-lifetime pandemic. How will it make me better? More intentional? More joyful?

I like this challenge.

In the meantime, tonight I am surrounded by laughter. I’m sitting in our upstairs family room surrounded by laughter. My daughter is on a Zoom call with a posse of girlfriends and my son is playing on Xbox with a group of guys. They are both laughing, chatting, and having a grand ole’ time. The picture on this post is of me and my youngest in a giggly moment recently. Laughter is good for the soul.

One of my worries has been how this pandemic will impact them. We have had moments. But I’ve been so impressed with their resilience. I hope this moment in time will make them stronger too.

But for tonight, I’m enjoying the laughter. I’m grateful my little world is all safely under one roof. I’m relaxed after a full week. Gearing up for a long run in the morning – rain or shine.

Feeling energized tonight to imagine how I will emerge.

May 4th, friends. The stay-at-home order for my state of Washington has been extended to May 4th due to the COVID-19 health crisis. Wow.

The last day I went to work (in the office) was February 19th. My kids haven’t gone to school since March 10th. I haven’t driven my car in…I think….a week? So. crazy.

With the extension of the order, our lives will continue to exist on pause to a degree. In some ways, we’re all still trying to function. But nothing is normal. And nothing is like it was.

There is a sense of stillness. No traffic. No businesses are open. Everyone is supposed to stay six feet apart, so no friend gatherings or other social connections. It feels like a strange, strange world.

It’s a strange dichotomy. While in some ways the world is quieter than ever before in my lifetime, it also is striking how much more work there is to do when creature comforts – yes, privileges – are stripped away. And when an entire family is cooped up together for weeks on end.

We are flying through groceries and dishes with all of us eating every meal at home. We aren’t doing any take-out or delivery out of caution. There are three children to care for. I’m deep cleaning like I haven’t in years because in the midst of a pandemic, no one is coming into our home to clean it. Ironic, right? At the same time, my job hasn’t slowed down. Many of the people I work with are fortunate to have a stay-at-home spouse that has picked up childcare responsibilities. I don’t honestly know how any of us are doing it.

My husband and I are divide and conquering. It is kind of working.

After a week of trying to do it all and feeling like I might explode, I hired a nanny to help with our youngest six hours a day. She was our nanny for a few years before going to physical therapy school. Now her school is closed and she was available. She is smart, trustworthy, social distancing appropriately and my youngest loves her. A smart risk, in my opinion.

It is really only because of her that it is working. My job has been super demanding with an increased workload due to the crisis (also ironic, right?). My husband also has career demands. We have two high schoolers that are now online schooling and a youngest with special needs that needs a lot of care.

I read something the other day from a friend that said something like, “There is a reason there are career women, stay-at-home mom’s, and teachers. Because they are three distinct jobs.” Amen. Amen. To expect any of us to do it all right now is…laughable.

I read an article today that made me giggle. Printed in the Atlantic, it did a play on words of a famous quote that had made the rounds on social media.

“Enough already. When people try to be cheerful about social distancing and working from home, noting that William Shakespeare and Isaac Newton did some of their best work while England was ravaged by the plague, there is an obvious response: Neither of them had child-care responsibilities.“

Amen. Amen.

To the juggler’s still trying to keep the balls in the air, god bless you. I’ve been dropping balls left and right. And I still have some help. And I’m trying to be OK with my dropped balls.

For now, I think we’re all going to have to give each other grace for dropping those balls. Most of them will bounce back up. Some might bounce away – and that may actually be for the best. Luckily, we’re built to be durable jugglers. And when we can eventually toss a few balls to others, we’ll appreciate the synchronicity of our normal circus like never before.

I swear the best lines are said during yoga class.

Right now I’m taking a few classes a week – virtually on my computer – from instructors from one of my favorite yoga studios. It’s not quite the same – even safely ensconced in my basement I can still hear the thunder of my family’s feet above me and once, the roar of the vacuum. But, it is good for my hips and my soul.

The other day the instructor was talking about this challenging time and how we are all navigating the unknown.

Yes! We are!

I pondered that phrase on my run this morning. I’ve written about the helpers and my sadness for so many during this COVID-19 crisis.

As I ran down my favorite path bright and early, I realized there is another group that will struggle mightily during a pandemic. The planners!

That is me. I am a planner. My entire life I have had a specific life plan. Academics. Athletics. Professional. Family. You name it – there was a plan. With only a few unexpected curveballs (who knew I would end up in Seattle? who knew I would have a precious child who also has disabilities?), life has largely gone according to plan. Like most working mom’s, I plan our lives carefully – activities, tutoring, travel and more! I plan for work. I plan for success. I plan for fun. Even when I try to roll with life, I’m happier with a plan. I like things to look forward to. Which is why I had no less than five trips planned with family and loved ones during this crisis. All cancelled now.

But of course, here’s the thing about a pandemic. No one planned for it. No one wanted it. No one wanted it disrupting life as we know it. But here we are.

For me and my family – so far, blessedly – it is an annoying and scary interruption of life as we know it. I hope we can stay in this zone.

But the planner in me does not like this ambiguity. I want to know when my kids will go back to school. I want to know when I’ll see my family in other parts of the country again. I want to know when we can safely travel again. I want to know when I can visit colleges with my daughter. I want to know she will get to enjoy her senior year with her friends. I want to know my kids will have the same delightful college experience as decades of kids before them. You see? I could go on.

If I really think about it, one of those curveballs mentioned above should have been great training for this ambiguous moment.

We found out my youngest daughter would have significant disabilities due to a brain malformation when she was 8 months old. People with her condition (agenesis of the corpus callosum) have a wide range of life experiences and capabilities. There was – and is – no magic ball. It is very easy to get nearly suffocated with grief, worry, and fear when you don’t know what life your child will have. Or if they will get a full life. Without a doubt, it will be a very different life than you would have chosen. Because it will be hard. And limited.

But. You teach yourself that worry wastes time and to remember that each day is a gift. And the best advice another set of parents gave us was to not look more than six months ahead. Because it was overwhelming. And pointless. They were right. Prepare for the curveballs by….not preparing.

So I’m taking these lessons forward to help me navigate this current unknown. It is different, of course. But without a doubt, we should learn as we go through life. I’m not taking a six month lens in this instant – I prefer to look two to four weeks ahead. That is useful for me. And not overwhelming.

Whatever helps you navigate this unknown, I hope you have the strength and clarity to focus on what helps you – and set the rest aside. Even just for now.

As I finished my run, this beautiful sky brought me much joy. I was talking to my mom on the phone as I walked toward my house and stopped to take this picture. The sun broke through the clouds. And I am navigating.

Today was a good day. It is so very true that your attitude can make such a difference. I do believe the stories we tell ourselves can become our reality. And today I was committed to choosing joy. Looking up. And finding ways to make today an amazing day.

I actually committed to this yesterday. When I had a not-so-amazing day. A day spent in pj’s (which can be amazing sometimes, but wasn’t yesterday), too much juggling, no exercising, and not enough joy finding.

The good news is, when you know yourself, even just a little, often you can program a joyful day – or at least moments of joy. I am so very lucky to have my health and the health of my family. And the opportunity to be at home.

So today, I embraced the day with gratitude and did some of my favorite things.

I set my alarm to not miss the quiet window of time before the rest of my house wakes up. When I was younger, I remember my Grandma Rene waking up at 4:30 or 5am. I asked her why. She said she liked to have a window of quiet to herself. I totally get it. Particularly now.

So I got up – not at 4:30am – but at 7am. I read an amazing book while I slowly drank a cup of coffee in my quiet house. Seriously. This is bliss for me.

Then I got dressed and took my dog outside quickly. I was already to run, luckily, because it was absolutely disgusting out (40 degrees and raining). Had I not been all ready to go, I might have bailed. But forge on I did and like pretty much every day ever, I love starting my day with a run. I clipped along at 7:40 pace for five miles, which is pretty solid for me right now.

I got home and made myself some eggs and toast. Enjoying a quiet breakfast.

I did have to do some work today, but it was a relatively quiet day on the work front. Hallelujah. I needed that gift.

So I was able to do some college visits with my daughter – not as planned – but virtually, as we watched various YouTube videos and visited different websites. I enjoyed the day at home – not in a confined prison kind of a way – but a nice, quiet day where we’re all together.

Through-out the day, various text threads with girlfriends built as people shared silly memes and commentary with each other. Somehow, amidst the isolation, friends find a way to come together.

Tonight’s grand finale is the first episode of season 3 of Ozark. A show I love. A nice glass of wine, some chill time with family, and I’m ending the week on a high note.

No big lesson of the day other than sometimes you just have to take the bull by the horns and make yourself a joyful day. Done!

Today’s blog was going to be positive. I’ve been thinking about the extra eight hours I should have in the week – just by not doing my regular commute. In a typical week, I spend at least eight hours driving to my job. Now that I’m in quarantine, I’m inspired to think about how I’m using my time – and am I making the most of at least these extra eight hours?

You’re going to have to wait for the answer to that question. Because today did not end up being a positive day.

We got an email that an employee of our country club had received a positive diagnosis for COVID-19. This may sound like the epitome of first world problems, or privilege, but no matter how COVID-19 hits home, it is still frightening.

In this case, our country club is down the street. It is the hub of our neighborhood. My son spends a ton of time there with his neighborhood buddies. My husband spends time there with his neighborhood golfing buddies. During the winter, I don’t spend much time there, but it is very much a hub of our universe.

And to know that COVID-19 had hit there – with an employee currently hospitalized – and it was recommended to quarantine for 14 days from your last visit – this global pandemic really arrived in our neighborhood.

We are still lucky. No one we know and love has been diagnosed or is ill. But it literally feels all around us.

So today I did not make the most of my extra eight hours. In fact, I am still in the very same pj’s I woke up in. That’s right. I did not get dressed the entire day. Even walked my dog for two blocks in my pj pants (with a coat on top!).

I had a lot of work to do – because my work has not stopped for this pandemic. But I did take a few breaks to look at photo albums with my daughter, make jokes with my son, and cuddle with my youngest. There wasn’t a work-out. I didn’t take a shower until 7pm (although I did enjoy a nice hot bath beforehand). I didn’t advance my mind in any way.

But I slogged through the day. I was feeling kind of guilty and lame and then I read this quote by my (current) favorite author Glennon Doyle.

Ok! Thank you, Glennon. Today, I kept going. It wasn’t pretty. I was in pj’s all day. There was minimal movement. But I slowly kept going.

And tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow I will get up and go for a run. Take a shower and put on real clothes. I will try to not drown in email and conference calls and not feel guilty for not making amazing memories with my family during a pandemic. I will take a minute (or five) to simply breathe. I will remember that I matter in the universe and it’s OK to focus (for a minute or three) on what will make me happy – not solely on serving others.

I will recharge and I will find my positivity. And then I will tell you – with energy – how I plan to make the most of my extra eight hours.

Much love to all.

Tonight I re-read an article that made a big impact on me today. Published in the Harvard Business Review and entitled “That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief”, it was simultaneously an Oh! Of course it is reaction and then…also more disconcerting.

This isn’t just a few bum days or a downer mood. Am I…grieving?

David Kessler is the grief expert quoted in the article and he articulates:

“…we’re feeling a number of different griefs. We feel the world has changed, and it has. We know this is temporary, but it doesn’t feel that way, and we realize things will be different. Just as going to the airport is forever different from how it was before 9/11, things will change and this is the point at which they changed. The loss of normalcy; the fear of economic toll; the loss of connection. This is hitting us and we’re grieving. Collectively. We are not used to this kind of collective grief in the air.”

Here is what I’ve been grieving the last few days:

– The toll on the sick, the dying, and the helpers. Breaks my heart. In addition to the loss of the life, our caretakers are being faced with unbelievable pressure – to ration valuable medical supplies, to consider who gets care when we run out of beds or ventilators, and the lack of basic testing available to all.

– Fear. For my family, my friends, and my community. I so want us all to be OK. As more and more stories hit of sudden deaths, painful illnesses, and perfectly healthy people with tragic outcomes, the fear and concern can be...paralyzing.

– Such sadness. For people that should be celebrating joyous activities. We have a friend who is expecting his first child. There is a very real possibility he won’t be allowed in the delivery room. Or even the hospital. I think about his wife and delivering alone. And him missing this once-in-a-lifetime moment. I contrast it with the lobby of family we had waiting for David to share our big news when our children were born and I wonder, is this even possible??

– Such sadness. For the sick that are dying alone because they can’t be safely surrounded by those they love. For another friend whose father is dying (from prostrate cancer) but is also dying alone because the hospitals won’t let people in to visit. He won’t be able to have a funeral for….the foreseeable future.

I could go on. For the millions that are losing work and won’t be able to pay their bills. For the small businesses shutting down – changing the fabric of our communities forever.

More close to home…oh, the worries. Will we all stay healthy? Will my daughter (born with a neurological disorder and immuno-compromised) be able to survive the illness if needed? Are we doing everything we should be doing to stay healthy? How can I try to keep a sense of normalcy and lightness for all of us? How do we embrace the togetherness and write a Pulitzer and the other stuff we’re supposed to be doing? Are we honestly supposed to be digital learning and working from home right now?!?

And then…there is the anticipatory grief. Oh my god…who even knew this was a thing? Kessler describes:

“Anticipatory grief is that feeling we get about what the future holds when we’re uncertain. Usually it centers on death. We feel it when someone gets a dire diagnosis or when we have the normal thought that we’ll lose a parent someday. Anticipatory grief is also more broadly imagined futures. There is a storm coming. There’s something bad out there. With a virus, this kind of grief is so confusing for people. Our primitive mind knows something bad is happening, but you can’t see it. This breaks our sense of safety. We’re feeling that loss of safety. I don’t think we’ve collectively lost our sense of general safety like this. Individually or as smaller groups, people have felt this. But all together, this is new. We are grieving on a micro and a macro level.”

For me, anticipatory grief looks like: What if my parents get sick? What if they get sick and I can’t get to see them in Missouri? When will I ever be able to travel to see my family? What if my daughter can’t get her epilepsy medication? This would be a critical situation. What if anyone I love gets sick? What if our lives are changed forever? And not in the “wow, we had extra together time and now we’re grateful” way, but the “world is screwed and this is the start of global pandemics that will change the world as we know it.”

So…yeah. Ok. I have some grieving going on. Good to know.

The past few days I’ve felt a heaviness. A slight shortness of breath. That has nothing to do with COVID-19 and everything to do with anxiety. I’m trying to distract myself, breathe deep, get fresh air each day, exercise, and find reasons to laugh. And yes, for now, I am ever so grateful that the people I love most are safe.

The tangible tools I will share with you, from the epicenter of this COVID-19 nightmare, are relatively straightforward. And, per usual, dance around my brain as mantras. I share them with you now.

1) Control what you can control. I’m not going to cure the world. I’m not going to know every single death. Keeping a running tally is really unhealthy. Unplug. Make smart decisions for my family. Try a new enchilada recipe for dinner. Go for a run. Make my kids laugh. These are things I can control.

2) Worry wastes time. An old favorite. It is useless to fixate. Again, unplug. Knowledge isn’t necessarily helpful for me right now. No need to watch the death toll rise when I’m doing what I can, for now. Distraction helps. Constant worry does not.

3) Choose joy. Ah! My 2020 mantra! Tested in all kinds of unique ways. But such a good guide. Starting the day with a good book instead of my social media feed or the news. Taking a hot bath. Enjoying a glass of wine with a good TV show at night. Finding beauty in the world. These are things I can do.

So there you have it. A diagnosis of grief for many of us. And encouragement that we should fight succumbing to it if possible. Of course we all deserve to be sad. And to know others are too. But in our grieving, may we remember to choose joy.

The last image I have today is of this baby cherry tree outside my window (see above). We have a relatively new house, with a new yard. With this baby cherry tree doing its best to bring beauty into the world. I see you, cherry tree, and I am grateful.