So here we sit – a year into this thing. More than a year, if we want to be really technical about it, but I don’t think the first emanations of the virus back in December 2019 were on anyone’s radar around here. I saw the news stories in January, but brushed them off as one of those things that would probably never really materialize. Even as late as February, I just expected a nothingburger – and I remember being incredulous when a work colleague from another office, during meetings about a case we were working together, expressed her fear that schools would close down. “They can’t close schools,” I replied, shocked, “What would people do? They won’t, there’s no way.” Joke’s on me, because she was 100% right. (In that same conversation, she said she was sending her husband to Lowe’s for KN95 masks before they became hard to get. In case you’re wondering, yes, I do plan to run all future life decisions before this colleague.)

I’ve written a lot about quarantine life and this bizarre world we’re finding ourselves in, so I won’t get into details in this post. I just want to reflect more generally. But in case you want to revisit some past posts about our pandemic experience:

• It’s (Quarantine) Monday! What Are You Reading? (March 23, 2020) – the first week of social distancing.
• Quarantine Silverlining – looking for the bright side.
• A Day in the Life: COVID-19 Edition – a look at juggling homeschool and work in spring 2020.
• Virtually Unstoppable – a surprising sanity booster.
• Fall Learning: Making the Best of a Bad Situation – considering school choices for fall 2020.
• Missing the Mom Tribe – lamenting lost connections.

Since this whole miserable situation began (I refuse to say “the new normal” because I will not acknowledge that there is anything normal about this situation) I have struggled to maintain perspective. I don’t want to seem insensible of my particular blessings during this time. More than a year into social distancing, none of my immediate family members have contracted the virus (that we know of). Steve and I, the kids, my parents, Steve’s mom, and my brother and sister-in-law are all healthy. And my parents have received the vaccine! (Here’s hoping the rest of us will be getting it soon.) Steve and I both have jobs that allowed us to work from home indefinitely; in fact, Steve already worked from home, so nothing changed for him. We’ve both stayed employed throughout the crisis, and we’ve had the means to keep our kids home and safe as well. Starting in September of 2020, we have been in a world class public school district, and I am consistently impressed with the quality of the education both kiddos are getting over their school-issued laptops. So – things could be much, much worse.

Even with all of that perspective, I’ve been having a hard time being okay with the last year. (That’s an understatement, huh?) I’ve struggled with a lot of anger and frustration about the government’s handling of the pandemic from the beginning, and while I am glad that we finally have competent leadership in place and are moving toward the finish line of this miserable experience, it didn’t need to be this bad, and that is just infuriating. Can you imagine how much better, easier, faster this process would have been if the administration that was in place back in March 2020 had said, “Yes, this is bad. There’s a lot we don’t know, so our advice may change as we learn more – but for now, wear a mask, stay away from crowded places, stay home, stay strong. Things will be bumpy but we’ll get through it together. Listen to Dr. Fauci.” Maybe things would have actually improved by summer 2020, like we all thought they would.

Recently, I was chatting with a family friend about the tightrope balance of trying to maintain perspective while missing the experiences that enriched our lives. The friend shared that she was missing concerts and live theatre; those experiences, while – yes – luxuries, brought her immense joy. In response, I shared that I am missing travel. We’ve had multiple vacation plans cancelled in the past year, at various stages of the planning process – from early dreaming and scheming a Thanksgiving trip to my brother in Colorado, to a last-minute cancellation of our planned trip to Cape Cod (in itself a replacement vacation after our original plans – Lake Tahoe with the whole extended family – were scuttled). Steve and I both love to travel, and we have shared our joy in experiencing new places throughout our relationship. We’d tabled the most audacious travel plans in favor of staying close to home while we had babies and toddlers, but were just starting to think about some bigger trips and further destinations now that the kids are both in grade school – all of that has been back-burnered again. I’m stir-crazy.

In the end, I’ve decided to stop worrying about whether complaining that I can’t travel – or commiserating about a lost theatre season – makes me spoiled or out of touch. I can both recognize that others have it so much worse and I am comparatively blessed, and mourn the joys and life experiences that I have personally lost. I can feel gratitude for the ability to work from home and keep my kids in virtual school until my husband and I are comfortable sending them back in-person, and share honestly that I am bone-tired and completely overwhelmed. I can appreciate the flexibility that technology gives me to stay in touch with family and friends, and wish that I could actually hug them. All of these things can be true at the same time.

Some perspective, very valuable. But I do hope it ends soon.

How are you holding up, one year into pandemic life?