Whooo, this brought so much back, and I really appreciate your writing. In 2020 my husband was a prison RN, so you can imagine the ‘care’ that was taken to ensure everyone’s safety. I was terrified for him, us. No one took masking seriously except him.
I watched him go into isolation 3x after possible exposure, staying in his parents’ garage apartment since we lived on their property, and then watched them have almost zero respect for social distancing and just hop into his room without any warning multiple times. Meanwhile I’m home with 4 kids.
My anxiety was through the roof. We knew virtual school wouldn’t work that fall because we lived in a rural area with shit internet, so I decided to homeschool! Yay! Mike & I both got Covid just after school started. Despite my kids not getting sick after such exposure I clung to keeping them home (rigid thinking, I guess). A month in Mike was like, this is killing you, put them in school (it was an option, but NO ONE was masking. Ah, the south.) it took another month and a serious breakdown for me to see that putting them back in class was best.
Add to all this several run-ins where my MIL really didn’t like my boundary setting, and yeah. Fun times.
Well, that was a book😅it is cathartic to look back, so thank you for the chance!
We adopted our first child at her birth in December 2019. In June 2019, my husband nearly died. We were lucky our local hospital had a ventilator available. 5 weeks later he came home from the hospital for the first time that summer. I'm not sure how many hospital visits he had that year, but it wasn't good. Meanwhile, our church resumed meeting in person, 90% unmasked, as soon as it was legal. As preacher and sole breadwinner for our little family, my husband went, masked, whenever he was well enough. You name the conspiracy theory, we heard it. (I was even told that putting a mask on a child was child abuse!) Every time, my heart broke a little more. Every time I felt a little more alone.
I'm not sure my point in all this, other than telling it helps me process. 2020 was an awful year for everyone. Despite everything we experienced, I am beyond privileged that all my close friends and family made it through that year alive. Now to process the trauma!
I hope that didn't come across as rude. I've just found myself very uncomfortable with being called brave for this. I've found when hard things come you either survive or . . . you don't. How do people survive war, abuse, the death of a child . . . anything? It doesn't seem to me to be bravery. It's just that the sun comes up another day and you're still there, breathing. Sometimes, as all my fellow anxiety / panic attack sufferers know, even the breathing is touch and go. But even then, you survive.
Beautifully put. I suppose what I mean is that I see in what you described an incremental bravery in waking up again and again, and also feeling and naming so much heartbreak. The naming and waking up are acts that many refuse to perform. But having lived through a health scare myself, I also understand the sentiment that everything happens and sometimes we just find ourselves swept along in the current. I get that, too. ❤️
Oh my goodness, I don't know how to even begin to remember as you just did. I know I am still processing by the tightness in my chest I feel as I read this and the fact that I had a meltdown when our schools had a snow day a couple of weeks ago. We are all still processing and recovering.
I'm so grateful for how your voice has developed and I'm sorry it has come at a cost. Because realizing we are naive and having our eyes opened is painful. It is a betrayal from the people we originally trusted. And it hurts. Love you, friend.
Thanks for these kind words. ❤️ And I get that tight feeling in the chest when I think back, too. It is hard to conceptualize the weight of trauma placed on all of us from this experience, and I think we’ll be removing bits and pieces over years. Hugs, my friend!
Whooo, this brought so much back, and I really appreciate your writing. In 2020 my husband was a prison RN, so you can imagine the ‘care’ that was taken to ensure everyone’s safety. I was terrified for him, us. No one took masking seriously except him.
I watched him go into isolation 3x after possible exposure, staying in his parents’ garage apartment since we lived on their property, and then watched them have almost zero respect for social distancing and just hop into his room without any warning multiple times. Meanwhile I’m home with 4 kids.
My anxiety was through the roof. We knew virtual school wouldn’t work that fall because we lived in a rural area with shit internet, so I decided to homeschool! Yay! Mike & I both got Covid just after school started. Despite my kids not getting sick after such exposure I clung to keeping them home (rigid thinking, I guess). A month in Mike was like, this is killing you, put them in school (it was an option, but NO ONE was masking. Ah, the south.) it took another month and a serious breakdown for me to see that putting them back in class was best.
Add to all this several run-ins where my MIL really didn’t like my boundary setting, and yeah. Fun times.
Well, that was a book😅it is cathartic to look back, so thank you for the chance!
OMG I CAN SO RELATE. Family drama is one of those things that is nearly impossible. I am so sorry. How did we make it through?!?!
We adopted our first child at her birth in December 2019. In June 2019, my husband nearly died. We were lucky our local hospital had a ventilator available. 5 weeks later he came home from the hospital for the first time that summer. I'm not sure how many hospital visits he had that year, but it wasn't good. Meanwhile, our church resumed meeting in person, 90% unmasked, as soon as it was legal. As preacher and sole breadwinner for our little family, my husband went, masked, whenever he was well enough. You name the conspiracy theory, we heard it. (I was even told that putting a mask on a child was child abuse!) Every time, my heart broke a little more. Every time I felt a little more alone.
I'm not sure my point in all this, other than telling it helps me process. 2020 was an awful year for everyone. Despite everything we experienced, I am beyond privileged that all my close friends and family made it through that year alive. Now to process the trauma!
Oh, Laura. This is SO much you all had to walk through. I’m sorry it was so hard. Also, it sounds like you and your husband were so brave. Well done.
Thank you. I don't know if we were brave; we survived. That's all.
I hope that didn't come across as rude. I've just found myself very uncomfortable with being called brave for this. I've found when hard things come you either survive or . . . you don't. How do people survive war, abuse, the death of a child . . . anything? It doesn't seem to me to be bravery. It's just that the sun comes up another day and you're still there, breathing. Sometimes, as all my fellow anxiety / panic attack sufferers know, even the breathing is touch and go. But even then, you survive.
Beautifully put. I suppose what I mean is that I see in what you described an incremental bravery in waking up again and again, and also feeling and naming so much heartbreak. The naming and waking up are acts that many refuse to perform. But having lived through a health scare myself, I also understand the sentiment that everything happens and sometimes we just find ourselves swept along in the current. I get that, too. ❤️
Oh my goodness, I don't know how to even begin to remember as you just did. I know I am still processing by the tightness in my chest I feel as I read this and the fact that I had a meltdown when our schools had a snow day a couple of weeks ago. We are all still processing and recovering.
I'm so grateful for how your voice has developed and I'm sorry it has come at a cost. Because realizing we are naive and having our eyes opened is painful. It is a betrayal from the people we originally trusted. And it hurts. Love you, friend.
Thanks for these kind words. ❤️ And I get that tight feeling in the chest when I think back, too. It is hard to conceptualize the weight of trauma placed on all of us from this experience, and I think we’ll be removing bits and pieces over years. Hugs, my friend!