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Another lazy day. It’s okay. I feel fine both emotionally and physically. There is a little guilt, a little panic, and a little excitement bubbling below the surface. Next week life begins again, and I am mentally and emotionally freaking out. It’s not so much the work or the people but the changes, the new way of operating and the etiquette that I’m nervous about.

A lot of my anxiety is social. I do not like when I either have to meet new people, or meet people in a new setting, or when for any reason the social norms or expectations are ambiguous.

I’m afraid, I guess, of looking stupid, of offending, of not being liked. It sounds dumb, but in the time of Covid-19 there are expectations about masks, about how close to stand, and about cleaning and hygiene. There are offences over your level of concern or belief about the virus, its origins, and the government’s response.

There is, for people who over think the details most never even notice, a lot to think about and navigate.

I comfort myself by remembering that no one knows how to act or react right now. There is no right or wrong, just whether you care and are willing to correct or stubbornness and recklessness. I do care and I am willing so I should not feel afraid.

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It’s hard to believe that in just a few days I will be back at work again. I haven’t seen that place or any of my coworkers or friends in over eight weeks and the idea of seeing them again Monday morning is making me feel increasingly excited, anxious, and afraid. I’m trying not to think about it though. When I do the guilt over not doing or accomplishing more than I have these past few months.

I keep trying to remember that no one expected anything from me but me, that it’s okay I took this time to rest and to sometimes do nothing, and, that considering how quickly and dramatically the world changed there was no way to properly plan or emotionally prepare for a long time away from work and in isolation. I did what I could, and that is good enough.

So tonight, instead of trying to get back to my old sleep habit and routine, I’m staying up late and having a few drinks with my wife. I’ve decided to be even less productive than I have been and to focus on myself for the next few days. No writing. No reading. No big projects. Just doing whatever I feel like for theses next few days. I’ll get back to work when I have to, and not a second before.

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I had a good walk this morning. I’m still feeling sore and worrying that I am pushing myself too hard, but I’m committed to giving myself a week of this and seeing if my body can adjust. If, in a week, my joints are locked up and throbbing, then I will cut back but it’s just a walk, a little over two miles a day, and that doesn’t seem like too much to ask from myself.

It’s been nice to get to know my neighborhood in a way I haven’t in all the years I’ve been living here. I’ve walked these same sidewalks before, but to do it day after day, to watch the tress, the lawns, the people, move from one season into another, to experience it in this pandemic where we are all so much more connected with those around us even if we have to keep our distance. I’m seeing it all, even house, intersection, and person, with fresh eyes and understanding.

I’d like to keep this up after I return to work, but I’m not sure what that will look like. I will have to walk earlier, or much, much later. I hope my wife will still go with me too. Of all the things I, we, have been able to do these past months, this is the one thing I want to hold on to.


The rain has been rolling in and out all day and taking my energy and focus in and out with it. I haven’t been able to work on the drafts I started yesterday, but I’m not pushing myself too hard right now, anyway. These are my last days that will belong to me fully for a very long time, if ever again. Yes, I will have weekends always, but even they are rushed and filled with worry and preparation for the workweek.

One thing I have learned during this time is how much of my time and how many of my decisions belong to or are because of work. The truth is nearly all of it was and I have a job that is very clearly separate from my home life. I have a job I can’t take home, so it must be so much worse for others.

These next few days will have no expectations or obligations imposed and going forward there will be, there have to be more days like them.

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I just got the call from work asking me if I’d be willing not only to return to work next week, but to coordinate the schedule and duties of my team too. My first task in my new position.

I’m a little scared, but I feel ready to return. I’m scared to get sick, obviously, but I’m also anxious to start building new work habits and to know what things will be like now since there are going to be a lot of changes to the way we work. For now, we’re only allowed to work 4 hours a day and we’ll have to keep our distance from each other which will make things difficult but much of the summer work is done outside anyway so we should be fine.

More than anything though, I’m ready to be around people again. I’m ready to be a a part of something, to feel useful, important, and respected again. It’s amazing how much of work life turned out to be my actual life, and it’s surprising how much I missed what I thought I resented the most.

Honestly, I’ve never been happier with my workplace, my supervisors, or my team than I am right now for their foresight and support through this pandemic. They’ve really taken care of me and motivated me to come back more motivated, willing, and connected to my work than ever,

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The clouds were still lingering this morning when I woke up and the cold made me want to skip my morning walk. My wife took the dog without me and I immediately felt disappointed and angry with myself for not having the willpower so, after working my way through some to-do items I’d been putting off, I put on my running shoes and headed out on my own.

I decided to try out the track at the high school instead of walking the neighborhood. Normally it gets a little too packed to practice social distancing well but I went at just the right time before too many people had the same idea. The clouds moved on and the temperature rose quickly limiting how hard I could push myself but what little running I got to do felt really, really good.

Back home I took advantage of the motivation I felt and managed some yard work and some real progress cleaning out the basement. Not a bit of writing or reading got done, but it still felt like a productive day. There are more than a few ways to feel accomplished and useful and sometimes it isn’t in creating something but in taking care of yourself, your home, or your family instead.

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It’s a gloomy, rainy kind of day today. Neither my wife or I wanted to get up and go for a walk, but the dog was begging so badly I decided to take her on a quick jog around the block. It was misty and miserable out when we went, but I’m glad we did. I’m trying my best to get outside, to get some sun and get moving every day and as good as it feels I still find every excuse not to go.

A little cold, a little tired, a little sore or grumpy, all to me are reason to skip it but once I’m up and moving I see how flimsy those reasons are and how easy they are to overcome. That is, I’m learning to see through my own bullshit.

I don’t know if it was the clouds, the late nights lately, the new daily walks, or the IBD flare-up I’m worried is coming on, but I am feeling especially exhausted today. After lunch I found myself overwhelmed by the urge to curl up under a blanket and sleep. I could not have fought it if I’d wanted to. I’m glad I didn’t try though. I need the rest and without it I know I would have spent the evening dragging my useless body around and accomplishing nothing.

Sometimes we have to fight ourselves to get anything done, and sometimes we have to give into ourselves for the long term good. Much of life lately is spent trying to discern between the two.

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I’ve decided that, on mornings when I know I won’t have time to write or do any of the little quiet things I usually do, instead of being angry or resentful, or stressing myself out by trying to grasp even a few minutes of me time, to simply let it go.

I can’t write when I’m rushed and quiet time is useless when I’m in a bad mood, anyway. So, this morning I went on a nice walk again with my wife and the dog and it made all the difference. There will be more time for what I want to do later, but for now I can walk it out, get a new perspective and still find a sense of accomplishment.

We’re celebrating Mother’s Day today by stopping by my mother-in-law’s and mother’s house for a quick gift drop off and visit. We’re going to do our best to keep our distance and to watch what we touch and to wash our hands as soon as we get home.

I have a lot of anxiety about whether this is right or not but I know that eventually we are going have to find a way to see each other, safely. I don’t know if it’s time yet but when will it be time? This new coronavirus isn’t going away. We will have to live with it and for now I think making sure to keep our distance, not touch our faces, and to wash and sanitize after visiting is the best we can do.


Both visits went very well. I’m happy to see that all of our closest Colorado loved ones are still doing well and to get to talk to them face to face. It was a little jarring though. It’s been so long since we’ve been around other people. We’re not used to the noise or the energy it takes to have a conversation.

The visits drained me. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I only mean it in the natural and normal way. When I got home, I needed calm and silence again. I couldn’t do anything but lay in bed, eat snacks, and watch TV.

I keep thinking about what it will be like when I go back to work and hoping that the proposed idea of us working staggard shifts and short hours. I’m sure I’m going to need to ease back into interacting with people. It was exhausting already before. It’s going to be much worse for a while why I adjust.

My Mother’s Body

“My Mother’s Body” from The Kingdom of Ordinary Time // Marie Howe

Bless my mother’s body, the first song of her beating
heart and her breathing, her voice, which I could dimly hear,

grew louder. From inside her body I heard almost every word she said.
Within that girl I drove to the store and back, her feet pressing

the pedals of the blue car, her voice, first gate to the cold sunny mornings,
rain, moonlight, snow fall, dogs . . .

Her kidneys failed, the womb where I once lived is gone.
Her young astonished body pushed me down that long corridor,

and my body hurt her, I know that—24 years old. I’m old enough
to be that girl’s mother, to smooth her hair, to look into her exultant frightened eyes,

her bedsheets stained with chocolate, her heart in constant failure.
It’s a girl, someone must have said. She must have kissed me

with her mouth, first grief, first air,
and soon I was drinking her, first food, I was eating my mother,

slumped in her wheelchair, one of my brothers pushing it,
across the snowy lawn, her eyes fixed, her face averted.

Bless this body she made, my long legs, her long arms and fingers,
our voice in my throat speaking to you now.