Here I am—one month into quarantine and a global pandemic and social distancing and a whole new reality. Here I am in the raw. My face is pink from three hours in the glorious spring sunshine that my body was not at all prepared for. My eyes look tired from the restless sleeps I’ve had all month and the bad dreams that have plagued me almost every night. My roots are growing out and my hair is growing long and part of me minds and part of me doesn’t. Hair brushing has also become optional. My hands are always dry from constant hand washing. My lips are a little cracked, and I don’t know why. I’ve gained five pounds from comfort eating and baking and not getting to climb and not bike commuting two hours a day and I know I should do something about that but can’t seem to summon the willpower. My body is constantly aching from the lack of physical therapy and my current injuries and the weird not-so-ergonomic desk set up I have at home. I miss the massage therapy, physiotherapy, chiropractic treatments and osteopathy that usually keeps me strong and healthy and pain-free. My mind is frazzled and unable to focus one minute and fine and on task and energized the next. I am always tired and I don’t know why. Or I know why, but I don’t feel like I should be. My heart is always aching a little because I miss hanging out with my stepdaughters in person and my nieces and my family and friends in general. I miss face to face contact and it wears on me. This is me, one month in. 

And yet—I have a husband who gives me love and cuddles and laughter and comfort every single day. I have a generous cousin who leads wonderful family yoga classes for us twice a week. I get to video chat with people I love almost every day, or whenever I need it. I don’t have to commute two hours a day. I don’t have to rush to places or appointments. I get to spend time at home, which I love so much. I get to look out at the mountains every single day from our patio. I get to live here, in beautiful British Columbia as the beauty of spring tumbles out with effervescent hope all around me. I get to have baking dates with my nine year old niece. So far, I get to know that my family and friends are healthy and safe. I get to work with a small but mighty marketing and communications team that have helped keep me sane this past month. I get to bake and smell the beauty of yeast fill my home and share this love with others. I get to keep working, and I know I’m lucky.

So I find I am torn between two selves. The suffering self and the contented self. The anxious self and the trying to be in the moment and accept all things self. The wanting to be healthy and fit and the wanting to eat delicious baked goods every day self. The wanting to reach out to everyone everyday and the I can’t handle so much interaction, burnt out self. The wanting adventure and travel and to go out every night self and the I love home and always want to be here self. I feel all these things at once. This is me, one month in. How about you?