You all, it’s rough in these parts these days.
I want to say I’m thriving and killing it and can now speak Italian fluently, have cleaned out all my closets, have learned to make croissants, give my family three course meals twice a day with delightful lunches here and there, have picked up a new hobby, and have lost five pounds.
But I can’t.
Most days, I'm just getting by. I have these great ideas of what I want to do, but implementing them is just so hard. I don't know why. I’m not depressed, it's not that. But I feel just sort of numb. I think I've had Covid-19 overload. It's hard to motivate myself when there isn't a motivator, right? And even though I feel pretty darn good most of the time, periodically, I wake up between 4 and 5am. It's not with a panic attack. Just, boom, wide awake, thinking about the people I won't be able to spend time with, the clothes that I miss shopping for, the home goods stores I loved to browse, getting my hair done, planning vacations, and not feeling so sad about the state of the world.
I want to say I use those mornings when I wake wisely, doing all of the things I imagined I do during these weeks of home. Sadly, I can't. To combat all the crazy whirling around in my brain, I pull out my Kindle and read happy ending novels or sneak out and watch YouTube videos.
And you know what, it works. It makes me laugh and cry and dream of when this will end, not in a sad way, but in an excited for the future type of way.
I know, I should be ashamed or something that I'm squandering this time, but I can't feel bad. Who hasn’t dreamed of finally watching everything they wanted on YouTube? There is SOOOO much crap on that channel, it’s wondrous! For reals, who doesn’t want to know how Chris Helmsworth got in shape to play Thor? Yes, pleeeeaaassseee!
We made the kids watch Groundhog Day last week. Not rave reviews from them, but seriously a great discussion movie. I love watching Phil transform from someone who robs banks and does whatever the heck he wants—total hedonist time--into someone who realizes that all these things he’s always dreamed of doing, eating, experiencing really aren’t as great as he thought. They are empty and end. He stops doing all that crap (YouTube binging for me) and starts reading literature, leaning how to play the piano, how to save lives and how to give people his time. He finally becomes someone worth knowing, and yet, is still totally and completely himself.
So I’m a FAR away from becoming that. But I feel like we need to sort of go to that place of just letting it all go to figure out what really is important. What really does make us happy (obviously for me, Christ Helmsworth) and is meaningful to us.
I’ve been thinking so much about Love during this time. I’ve seen couples come together like they never have before. They’ve worked through their baggage and hurts and have used this time to cement their relationship. They grow only more and more grateful for each other. They include their children in this renewal of love and the whole house and family is illuminated by love.
I’ve also seen marriages literally FALL apart (and I get you).
Then there’s the rest of us. Holy Hannah it’s HARD. Being together 24/7 with kids around ALL the time? Please, LOVE is the last thing that is happening. By 8:30pm I am DONE. I’ve got negative energy. We always made a point of spending one night a week together, but now I think we make a point of spending at LEAST three nights away from each other. And that’s not because we don’t like each other. At least most of the time. It’s because we are emotionally DONE.
And you’d think that would make me feel sad about our relationship?
It doesn’t.
For the first time, after 25 years next week, I am beginning to understand love.
It really is, in the middle of a pandemic, John understanding when I just have to go write, on a walk, to not make dinner, to not worry that I haven’t showered (but please for the love of Pete, wear some jeans . . . Even if it’s once a week—I do), or I can’t carry on a decent conversation, or if get all bent out of shape for no good reason.
At the end of long days, he will pick up my feet and massage the bottom, right where it always aches. He hates touching feet, especially very un-pedicured feet, but he grabs them and literally makes me cry as he kneads away the stupid knots that hurt me. He knows I love it so much, so he does it.
When I’m seeming low, he will reach over and run his fingers though my hair. It is often nappy and greasy and not princess gleaming. He cares. Trust me he cares that it’s not the cleanest, but he does it anyways because he knows it instantly relaxes me.
A few weeks ago, we went on a driving date (the only kind we go on). He was asking about guys in my past and why I liked them. I told him about one who was a friend long before anything else. He asked why I spent time with him, and I told him, it’s because that boy GOT me. He saw me, all of me, and he liked it. It’s the most addicting feeling in the world to be liked just the way you are.
John nodded his head and the conversation went on to other things. But a few days later, he asked, after clearly thinking about it a lot since our conversation, “Do I not get you?”
And here’s where you see I am not the best wife.
I said, “No. I don’t think you do. You actually DON’T get me. I mystify you and at times maybe horrify you.”
I can’t remember the rest of the conversation, I’m pretty sure we got interrupted (because we ALWAYS get interrupted these days), but i think he actually agreed with me.
John and I are in lots of ways very similar, but to be honest, in most we are TOTALLY different. He is very very organized and methodical. I am messy in all the ways he’s organized and I am just plow through and pray it works out plan for life.
He loves rap and crazy loud music. I love singer songwriters and classical music with a little punk thrown in.
He likes serious novels that makes him think. I like all sorts of trash with a little humor thrown in.
Every second of every day, he knows exactly how he looks and takes an hour to get ready every day. He knows what’s hip and happening. If I do shower, I am in and out and ready in 15 minutes. If I wear make up, it’s a three minute application. I have no idea what is hip. I wear what makes me happy.
He is sensitive and careful and is mindful of every word he speaks and how it may possibly affect everyone around him. I say what’s in my heart, even if it might be hard to hear.
I dance with abandon; he feels every eye on him.
He is hyper aware of everything and everyone around him; I can’t be bothered.
I say Yes! To everything; he has to think it out and measure and weigh out each possible affirmative.
On paper, we look like a horrible match. John really does look at me and think, six days out of seven, what on earth is going on in that warped brain of hers? And I can’t remember to even look at him because I’m thinking about a thousand other things.
How do we even work?
Love.
It’s the most amazing bridge. Yes, we are different, but that is what I love. He introduces me to a thousand new ideas and experiences every year. He challenges me, pushes me, and questions me and I love it. I didn’t know it all those years ago, but I do now. I didn't want someone who got me, I wanted someone who wanted me even though he didn’t get me. He wanted me because I was endlessly fascinating (and possibly annoying). I wanted him because he called my chaos into order. He was unafraid of my demons. When they rear their ugly heads, he stands right beside me or sometimes in front of me, and holds them off until I am strong enough to battle them again and thinks nothing of it.
When I overextend myself, even after he’s told me I’m doing to much Yes-ing and not enough NO-ing, he will pick up the other side of my yoke and pull me out of the muck. He is the only one who sees when I am exhausted. He sees through my smiles, to the pain and weariness and even sadness. He has my back, even if he’s mad he has to stand there, he will not abandon me. He also understand when I have to run another five miles and lets me go. He always encourages me to spend time with friends and family and even alone. He never forgets to thanks me for cooking, cleaning, caring and mothering. He has never once taken me for granted or made me feel anything less than his equal partner. He is loyal. He is also painfully honest and will in fact toss out any clothes that do not meet his standards.
Years ago, when he asked me to marry him and I may have said, no, the first time, and he asked me to stop and pray and thinks about it. I did. And I saw our lives together, full of ups and downs and strong emotions (we are emotional people) with lots of fire, but I also saw so much love.
And in this time, when things are wildly uncertain and full of craziness and my body is changing shapes everyday and I honestly go weeks without shaving, he is here for me. We are not perfect. We make each other mental too often and our tempers flare and there are some casualties. But I honestly am so glad we get this time to stop and really look at each other and learn to give each other even more space and grace. At the end of the day, I want to let go of the harsh words or short tempers, and hold onto the foot massages and early morning hugs.
When this time ends, I hope we all forget the dumb stuff and remember the miracles.
Love in the time of Covid-19. May it be our best love story yet.
I want to say I’m thriving and killing it and can now speak Italian fluently, have cleaned out all my closets, have learned to make croissants, give my family three course meals twice a day with delightful lunches here and there, have picked up a new hobby, and have lost five pounds.
But I can’t.
Most days, I'm just getting by. I have these great ideas of what I want to do, but implementing them is just so hard. I don't know why. I’m not depressed, it's not that. But I feel just sort of numb. I think I've had Covid-19 overload. It's hard to motivate myself when there isn't a motivator, right? And even though I feel pretty darn good most of the time, periodically, I wake up between 4 and 5am. It's not with a panic attack. Just, boom, wide awake, thinking about the people I won't be able to spend time with, the clothes that I miss shopping for, the home goods stores I loved to browse, getting my hair done, planning vacations, and not feeling so sad about the state of the world.
I want to say I use those mornings when I wake wisely, doing all of the things I imagined I do during these weeks of home. Sadly, I can't. To combat all the crazy whirling around in my brain, I pull out my Kindle and read happy ending novels or sneak out and watch YouTube videos.
And you know what, it works. It makes me laugh and cry and dream of when this will end, not in a sad way, but in an excited for the future type of way.
I know, I should be ashamed or something that I'm squandering this time, but I can't feel bad. Who hasn’t dreamed of finally watching everything they wanted on YouTube? There is SOOOO much crap on that channel, it’s wondrous! For reals, who doesn’t want to know how Chris Helmsworth got in shape to play Thor? Yes, pleeeeaaassseee!
We made the kids watch Groundhog Day last week. Not rave reviews from them, but seriously a great discussion movie. I love watching Phil transform from someone who robs banks and does whatever the heck he wants—total hedonist time--into someone who realizes that all these things he’s always dreamed of doing, eating, experiencing really aren’t as great as he thought. They are empty and end. He stops doing all that crap (YouTube binging for me) and starts reading literature, leaning how to play the piano, how to save lives and how to give people his time. He finally becomes someone worth knowing, and yet, is still totally and completely himself.
So I’m a FAR away from becoming that. But I feel like we need to sort of go to that place of just letting it all go to figure out what really is important. What really does make us happy (obviously for me, Christ Helmsworth) and is meaningful to us.
I’ve been thinking so much about Love during this time. I’ve seen couples come together like they never have before. They’ve worked through their baggage and hurts and have used this time to cement their relationship. They grow only more and more grateful for each other. They include their children in this renewal of love and the whole house and family is illuminated by love.
I’ve also seen marriages literally FALL apart (and I get you).
Then there’s the rest of us. Holy Hannah it’s HARD. Being together 24/7 with kids around ALL the time? Please, LOVE is the last thing that is happening. By 8:30pm I am DONE. I’ve got negative energy. We always made a point of spending one night a week together, but now I think we make a point of spending at LEAST three nights away from each other. And that’s not because we don’t like each other. At least most of the time. It’s because we are emotionally DONE.
And you’d think that would make me feel sad about our relationship?
It doesn’t.
For the first time, after 25 years next week, I am beginning to understand love.
It really is, in the middle of a pandemic, John understanding when I just have to go write, on a walk, to not make dinner, to not worry that I haven’t showered (but please for the love of Pete, wear some jeans . . . Even if it’s once a week—I do), or I can’t carry on a decent conversation, or if get all bent out of shape for no good reason.
At the end of long days, he will pick up my feet and massage the bottom, right where it always aches. He hates touching feet, especially very un-pedicured feet, but he grabs them and literally makes me cry as he kneads away the stupid knots that hurt me. He knows I love it so much, so he does it.
When I’m seeming low, he will reach over and run his fingers though my hair. It is often nappy and greasy and not princess gleaming. He cares. Trust me he cares that it’s not the cleanest, but he does it anyways because he knows it instantly relaxes me.
A few weeks ago, we went on a driving date (the only kind we go on). He was asking about guys in my past and why I liked them. I told him about one who was a friend long before anything else. He asked why I spent time with him, and I told him, it’s because that boy GOT me. He saw me, all of me, and he liked it. It’s the most addicting feeling in the world to be liked just the way you are.
John nodded his head and the conversation went on to other things. But a few days later, he asked, after clearly thinking about it a lot since our conversation, “Do I not get you?”
And here’s where you see I am not the best wife.
I said, “No. I don’t think you do. You actually DON’T get me. I mystify you and at times maybe horrify you.”
I can’t remember the rest of the conversation, I’m pretty sure we got interrupted (because we ALWAYS get interrupted these days), but i think he actually agreed with me.
John and I are in lots of ways very similar, but to be honest, in most we are TOTALLY different. He is very very organized and methodical. I am messy in all the ways he’s organized and I am just plow through and pray it works out plan for life.
He loves rap and crazy loud music. I love singer songwriters and classical music with a little punk thrown in.
He likes serious novels that makes him think. I like all sorts of trash with a little humor thrown in.
Every second of every day, he knows exactly how he looks and takes an hour to get ready every day. He knows what’s hip and happening. If I do shower, I am in and out and ready in 15 minutes. If I wear make up, it’s a three minute application. I have no idea what is hip. I wear what makes me happy.
He is sensitive and careful and is mindful of every word he speaks and how it may possibly affect everyone around him. I say what’s in my heart, even if it might be hard to hear.
I dance with abandon; he feels every eye on him.
He is hyper aware of everything and everyone around him; I can’t be bothered.
I say Yes! To everything; he has to think it out and measure and weigh out each possible affirmative.
On paper, we look like a horrible match. John really does look at me and think, six days out of seven, what on earth is going on in that warped brain of hers? And I can’t remember to even look at him because I’m thinking about a thousand other things.
How do we even work?
Love.
It’s the most amazing bridge. Yes, we are different, but that is what I love. He introduces me to a thousand new ideas and experiences every year. He challenges me, pushes me, and questions me and I love it. I didn’t know it all those years ago, but I do now. I didn't want someone who got me, I wanted someone who wanted me even though he didn’t get me. He wanted me because I was endlessly fascinating (and possibly annoying). I wanted him because he called my chaos into order. He was unafraid of my demons. When they rear their ugly heads, he stands right beside me or sometimes in front of me, and holds them off until I am strong enough to battle them again and thinks nothing of it.
When I overextend myself, even after he’s told me I’m doing to much Yes-ing and not enough NO-ing, he will pick up the other side of my yoke and pull me out of the muck. He is the only one who sees when I am exhausted. He sees through my smiles, to the pain and weariness and even sadness. He has my back, even if he’s mad he has to stand there, he will not abandon me. He also understand when I have to run another five miles and lets me go. He always encourages me to spend time with friends and family and even alone. He never forgets to thanks me for cooking, cleaning, caring and mothering. He has never once taken me for granted or made me feel anything less than his equal partner. He is loyal. He is also painfully honest and will in fact toss out any clothes that do not meet his standards.
Years ago, when he asked me to marry him and I may have said, no, the first time, and he asked me to stop and pray and thinks about it. I did. And I saw our lives together, full of ups and downs and strong emotions (we are emotional people) with lots of fire, but I also saw so much love.
And in this time, when things are wildly uncertain and full of craziness and my body is changing shapes everyday and I honestly go weeks without shaving, he is here for me. We are not perfect. We make each other mental too often and our tempers flare and there are some casualties. But I honestly am so glad we get this time to stop and really look at each other and learn to give each other even more space and grace. At the end of the day, I want to let go of the harsh words or short tempers, and hold onto the foot massages and early morning hugs.
When this time ends, I hope we all forget the dumb stuff and remember the miracles.
Love in the time of Covid-19. May it be our best love story yet.
Mary, the way you describe the love you feel and show for John and the love he feels and shows for you you makes me feel overjoyed. I love you both so much. How blessed your children are to feel the strength of your love for each other and for each of them.
ReplyDelete❤️🙏Mom