The One About ‘Rona
Josh and I have an October baby. Our second little one, born on the 6th day of October, the same day as my father. This year, however, our October baby wasn't feeling like his normal self; not like a birthday boy. He was tired, emotional and quiet. A few days later, after complaining of a terrible headache, he tested positive for Coronavirus.
Sitting in our Nurse Practitioner's office, we read through the sheet of paper explaining COVID protocol. Two-week quarantine. All members of the family. Children back home from school. It started to slowly set in. Our life was abruptly paused, again. No football for the oldest. No birthday party for the littles. Just sitting. And waiting.
Our sweet boy recovered pretty quickly, but the days dragged on. A few of us showed symptoms, me included, but largely we felt the heaviness of apathy and boredom settling in our house. The disappointment and loss of routine; a routine we had just found again, was suffocating. Our expectations of fall and a return to familiarity imploded. Just like expectations do.
In therapy Josh and I have learned that expectations are quicksand to bitterness and resentment. Over and over again, I learn this truth. This thing is sticky though, because I do not want to let go of hopeful excitement for the days ahead. However, I am learning that my ideas of grandeur, and life, and love, and adventure and PEOPLE are frequently overinflated and unrealistic, and leave me feeling extreme frustration.
If you have felt this bitterness and resentment and overall BLAH these last few months, please note that your feelings are normal. This year has been one big fat expectation let down. During these upcoming months, let me encourage you to take inventory of the expectations you are holding for the holidays and the end of the year. Monitor them closely. Ask yourself "is this realistic to ask of myself and others?" and "am I using this (event, holiday, etc) as a distraction from taking care of my needs?" When you are cranky, consider that you may be feeling disappointment. Acknowledging a loss helps with the sting.
Three years ago our October birthday boy asked me to bake him cookies that were shaped like candy corn. It was a box cookie set, and I tried my best. Really. I don't bake. So this is what happened. They look like Doritios. But guess what? They still tasted delicious. Even though they didn't look anything like they were supposed to.
And we, we are going to be okay. Even though this year hasn't looked anything like it was supposed to. I am in it with you, lowering my expectations one by one.
(P.S. Covid is no joke. Take it seriously folks.)