Thinking about crawling
It isn't pretty, but it's almost over
There’s no sense pretending this week that I’m not crawling toward the finish line of the semester. Not on my hands and knees type crawling, but belly in the dirt, can barely move, inching along like some wounded creature type of crawling. It’s not pretty, so this newsletter won’t be, either. Apologies in advance.
It’s odd that of all the pandemic semesters I’ve been through (I think we’re up to 6 now, counting the May term), this is the one that feels like it might destroy me. The one in which, at least for the second half, we were able to return to something fairly close to normal—maskless, in-person teaching in a regular classroom. Shouldn’t that make it better? Easier?
Then I remind myself of everything that came before. Six semesters in which things were constantly in flux. Or, let’s be honest, chaos. Six semesters of anxiety and fear and uncertainty. Six semesters when we thought for sure it was over and then it wasn’t. And then it wasn’t again. And again until it feels dangerous to even suggest that things might be getting better.
My mind is exhausted. My spirit is exhausted. My body is exhausted. There is an epidemic of ailments of fatigue and stress in the U.S. right now. Everyone I know is having some sort of residual bodily distress. Chest tightness. Heart palpitations. A lingering cough. A strange ache that wasn’t there before.
Joy feels so far away. Joy feels like a foreign place I’ll never get to visit, like April in Paris. And even if I could go to Paris, it would just feel numb. This, I remember every year, is why T.S. Eliot said that April is the cruelest month.
Here is my smallest offering in the face of this belly-crawl of a month. The incandescent Suleika Jaouad is hosting a 100-day project through her newsletter, The Isolation Journals. You don’t have to do anything complicated to participate. Just do something creative every day for 100 days. Preferably, not serious or productive. Something that might help you find your way back to joy.
I’m doing a sketch a day. Nothing fancy. No big goal or destination. It’s surprisingly relaxing for someone who makes art with words to switch into this other form. There’s nothing at stake. It feels good, a bright spot in the gloom.
What’s bringing you joy right now?
Thanks as always for reading and subscribing and liking and commenting!
Robyn- I feel what you are saying. These last few months have really been a struggle. Always working to find the joy! Enjoy your articles!
Robyn, I keep finding myself in these conversations. With friends, with clients. In my own home. We all need to continue to lift one another up. Some days I am stronger, some days you are stronger. I like reminding each other that we are human and we have been through some shit. Your writing reminds me of that and helps me give myself permission to rest when I can. To sit and stare off into space and say… not sure what’s going on rite now, but it’s ok to just BE.
What brings me joy? My grandson. Full of new life, new hope. Smiling, giggling . The other day my daughter was putting plastic solo cups on top of his head, he would wait for them to fall off then he would start giggling so hard. Just a reminder… let’s not take life so seriously.