Tonight, I am grateful and content.  This weekend felt...normal.  Like the former normal.  Kiddo went to his dad's. I cleaned and organized the house.  We purchased more seeds at the hardware store.  There was time together and time apart.  I napped, twice!, today.  While grocery shopping, I picked up some stuck-at-home toys for kiddo.  He was grateful and we played together in the late afternoon. 

Recent days have been bumpy.  Each day with its own series of ups and downs and back up again (mostly). Because the "new normal" doesn't arrange itself overnight. We create it one small course correction at a time, which bring us closer to stability, familiarity, and a sense of normal.  

Things that are working in my house: making art, physical activity outdoors, planting seeds (literally) for a big new garden, revising the schedule of working-at-home and school-at-home, practicing patience and mercy (aka grace) with ourselves and each other.  What's working in your home? What fails are you either learning from or just moving on from?  It all counts.  

I was tired, pausing, and resuming, on Sunday, March 22.  I'm exhausted, queasy, still in my pjs, and sitting very still, today.  The last two days I pushed to keep up with my job and kickstart the kiddo's homeschooling.  I tried to make (force) a normal level of productivity from both of us.  But this isn't normal.  So we'll ride the waves of productivity and rest.  We'll plan and accomplish; rest and recover.  These aren't cookie-cutter days.  These are days of adaptation and attention. 

Pause. Breathe. Repeat. 

Social distancing and staying home - doing everything for the family at home, feels more difficult and draining than I think it should.  Or, maybe, it simply is difficult.  And I am tired.

I'm tired in my body, my mind, and my emotions.  I'm not to the bedridden, despairing fatigue place.  I'm at the place where I can pause, nap, move slowly, set priorities and only do those tasks.  Pause between tasks.  Nap, again. Jot a few notes in my journal.  I'm at the place of acknowledging that this is challenging.  

It's challenging for good reasons.  Transitions from one set of routines and expectations and the corresponding feelings to a completely alternative and, frankly, alien set is challenging.  The limbo of not knowing how long this will last and what the impacts and implications will be on jobs, school, resources, etc. is challenging.  The multi-tasking to manage working at home and schooling at home and parenting all day while doing both of those things all at the same time is challenging.  Feeling distant and disconnected from friends and coworkers and neighbors and family is challenging.  Feeling crowded, as a deeply introverted introvert, by the tasks, immediate family, work-related texts and emails, podcasts and TV playing in the other rooms are all challenging.  

So we, I, pause.  To say, yes, this is a different kind of unfamiliar labor for which I'm not trained because there is no training.  To say, it's ok that this is hard.  To say, now we, I, pause.  I acknowledge the work I'm doing.  I rest and restore myself.  I identify the skills I'm using and prepare to use them more appropriately and skillfully in the coming week.  

And I nap.  

Practicing social connection in the time of social distancing... We're adapting to, and grateful for!, varied ways to maintain social connection during social distancing. Texting, chatting in the driveway, "elbow-bumps" and "air hugs," and hollering over the back fence to the neighbor kids. How are you staying connected in these strange covid-19 days?

"Pause. Breathe. Repeat."  An entry about remembering to take my own advice. And some household tools for remembering your calm and focus in the midst of a very challenging transition.  

"Where is balance in your life?" the question is our homework assignment from the circus lessons coach.  I've considered my answer and I'm happy with it.

I am seen, known, and loved for who I am.  I dwell in my close relationships with my husband, son, and besties.  I enjoy my home.  My daily routine generates only a minimum of stress for me.  My life is safe, secure, and stable. 

Rooted in this place of comfort and warmth, I'm reaching out, stretching, and challenging myself. The vital tension between comfort and growth is how I'm balanced.

At 45 years old, my heaviest weight, and lowest level of physical fitness, I'm enrolled in circus lessons and enjoying them.  I just received my A1C (blood sugar) test results - my highest/worst numbers to date.  So, J and I have embarked on a focused and intentional diet to bring my blood sugar back within healthy boundaries and maybe shed some pounds in the process.  I'm walking in the evenings, inconsistently but persistently.  I'm tending to my body, my physical self care and presence, in new and supported ways.

I've planned a solo adventure.  In October, I'm attending the Evolving Faith conference in Denver. The ideas, experiences, and emotions of how one's spirituality and/or religion may change over time is one of my passionate interests. Ultimately, I'll be traveling alone to meet and engage with strangers, pushing through the membranes of my introversion.  

It's been almost a year since I created and hosted my first retreat.  It went smoothly yet it left me exhausted and sensitive to all the areas for improving the event.  It also reminded me of how much I value and enjoy small gatherings of women talking together about substantive, real-life, heartfelt topics. This year I'll host more of these group conversations in my home, starting with one this month.  And, I'm revising the retreat for a new participants.  

There are more ideas for stretching still percolating through my mind, but this is where I'm balancing, today.  It's a vibrant, creative, growing space between the comforts of home and the unknown out there.