April 22, 2020.

Somewhere along the line, I lost track of the days.

It's not just the endless cycle of worry anymore. I'm better. The darkest, thickest bits of anxiety have mostly faded. Oh sure, I have moments where I'm paralyzed with it, wondering if the scratchy cough was something other than allergies. (It's not. It's April, in the Northeast and EVERYTHING is blooming at the same dang time. I'm a mess.) I get worried when I have to go in a store, but I take care of myself.

But the days, Lord, the days run into one another. On and on and on. I can't even tell you about a day, because I'm sure yours are the same.


The kids are doing great - frustrated - but surviving.

My kids are like me, extroverted introverts. We can only go so long in our own heads before we need the outside.

Claire misses the most, I think. She's in 7th grade and was just starting to feel comfortable in the world with the independence she had. Now that's stripped away. She misses her friends - the casual ones - most. The people she had lunch with, the people she'd pass in the halls or sit with in class. She has two friends that meet online for lunch every day, but she craves more. We were walking the other day, and she talked about how much she wants to touch other people - hug them, throw an arm over a shoulder.

Ben misses a lot too. For my kid to say how much he misses school says a lot. I asked him to define what he meant, and he said that he misses people too. His school obligations are minimal, and quite honestly, we tweak what we need to. Don't want to do the exercise video the gym teacher referred you to? Don't stress, find something else to do.  "The Principal of the Stenglein Remote Learning Center says you don't have to do it that way...what's the teacher gonna do? SHE WOULD VIOLATE SOCIAL DISTANCING!"

Dave is harder to read. I think he's OK - starting to worry about the economy. Like the greater economy, not our own finances. That's how he works, macro first. He is used to working remotely, since his company has small offices all over, and clients that are in even different places. I think he's struggling with the lack of separation. He's working more, longer hours, and I worry about burnout.

I've started sitting outside from time-to-time. We are lucky - while we don't have our own yarn, we're on the ground floor, with a private entrance, and a stretch of the building just outside our windows that is generally considered "ours" It's set back from the road by a garden, so I'm socially distant, but I take my camp chair, and a book and enjoy something that's not this same apartment.


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