The struggle is real

One look at the home screen of my iPad reveals my valiant attempts to keep my head above water since the beginning of the pandemic. (see previous post- "What happened to my sunny disposition?)

I wish I could claim that I have found that sunny disposition but that could not be further from the truth. I have slumped into a seething vat of aimlessness, of decrepitude and of gloom. (Too dramatic?) This is so not me.  But there it is.  The collection of newly installed apps on my iPad shows how I have tried to combat the slump.  Here is the list-

Acapella- (surely there must be some way that I can sing with my friends) 

Broadway HD- (or go to the theatre)

DailyOm- (or move my stiff. tired body)  

Simply Piano- (or brush up on my piano skills)

Photoshop-  (or once and for all learn how to use photoshop, you're a marketer for God's sake)

Disney + - (or watch Hamilton obsessively until I know all of the lyrics) 

Breethe (or learn to breathe and meditate and get some sleep!!)

Audible- (if you can't read, surely you can listen to a book)

I wish I could tell you that I am practicing the piano every day, singing with friends, reading fabulous books, moving these tired old bones.  Alas, that would not be the truth.

A quick tour of my house further reveals the struggle.  There are corners of the house that are orderly and resemble the suburban home we once lived in with regular visits from the cleaning lady.  Other areas of the house show the truth of living on a farm. There is chicken shit on the floor of the bathroom, there are fruit flies swirling in the air above the vegetables in the wooden bowl on the kitchen table. The pantry and refrigerator overflow with vestiges of our stockpiling for quarantine. In my office, there are craft projects begun but never finished. In my beloved tent where I while away summer afternoons, there is a pile of books that are unfinished, books about numerology, theatre, about children and dogs.  I chip away at them but without much urgency.  It seems time is fluid now.  There are no deadlines, no guardrails to contain my activity. 

And all the while, I look for the elusive silver linings.  I putter (The fine art of puttering around) and languish and hope for better days.  I know the old me lies in wait ready to re-emerge. To hug her friends and start projects and create things of beauty.  For now, I play in my garden and become mesmerized by my fish pond and nap in my tent and try to remember that I am luckier than most.