One year. We’ve been at this for an entire year. To think that 365 days ago I was naïve enough to find myself worrying about surviving two whole weeks at home. That’s what we initially thought. Two weeks…maybe a month. As the days and weeks increased…so did my anxiety.
But it’s during this pandemic that I/we have learned some invaluable lessons about doing what’s best for our family. While we will most certainly enjoy some of the pleasures of pre-pandemic life (like safely gathering with family and friends), we also know that there will be things we won’t be in any hurry to change as the world begins to reopen.
We were a family on the go. In addition to multiple weekly therapy appointments and school for Fletcher, we had our kids enrolled in activities like swimming lessons, Toddler Time, and ninja class and would use our annual passes to the Zoo and a nearby trampoline park frequently as an outlet for all their energy. We’d spend time with family and friends, go for hikes or visit playgrounds, and occasionally leave town for a weekend adventure. We rarely had any extended periods of downtime at home with just the four of us. And to be honest, I’m not even sure I would have known what to do with that down time if we’d had it. (emphasis on me in this scenario.)
Early in the pandemic, like many, I started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. There were so many unknowns. I was terrified about my family and friends who were considered high risk if they contracted COVID-19. I was nervous about how life coming to a screeching halt would impact our boys. I wondered if we had enough food and supplies – did we stock up on the right things? I ached for those in our community who didn’t have the privilege of “stocking up” and struggled with how to help while keeping my family and immunocompromised loved ones safe. I felt overwhelmed, unsettled, lost.
Mike and I tried to be supportive of one another while navigating our individual fears and being cut-off from the in-the-flesh support that our families and friends provided. Often, that support breathed life into our family – and our marriage. We were adjusting to the four of us being home all day, every day, and how to balance structure and free play. I clung to spreadsheet schedules and carefully planned activities, forcing structure into our days by any means necessary. And I inflicted stress and pressure on myself in order to do so.
When Mike returned to virtual teaching, we again had to adjust. I had to somehow keep our boys engaged (and quiet) while he taught. And we didn’t have any real destinations to safely take us out of the house. I was a mess. By the end of the day I had very little left to give to anyone and Mike felt helpless.
Mike and I held each other up, but life was hard. And sometimes that meant that we also struggled to see things through the eyes of our partner. Some days it felt like we were the greatest team while other days were filled with tense moments. Moments that made us question if our rock-solid foundation was solid…enough.
As our Wisconsin weather got warm enough to tolerate being outside, we committed to taking walks alone as a way to get a little exercise and some space from the demands of home. We aimed to make a daily walk happen for each of us and at first, it felt like an out of body experience. Even though I needed a break from the intensity of life with Fletcher and Max, I also didn’t want to leave them. It was a strange dichotomy really. It wasn’t long before I began to reap the benefits of deep, cleansing breaths full of crisp, fresh air…one of Mother Nature’s greatest gifts. I began to crave this alone time and started listening to podcasts or music as a way to help tone down my anxiety. I stumbled upon Brene Brown’s Unlocking Us podcast. Her episode from March 27th, 2020, titled Comparative Suffering, the 50/50 Myth and Settling the Ball changed our game.
In this podcast, she began by validating the exhaustion and level of weary that all of us were experiencing from the onset of the pandemic – the extreme fatigue after the adrenaline surge resulting from crisis. Her words were comforting in a moment I needed them – my deep breaths were audible and the pressure in my chest started to subside as I seemingly clung to her every word. Midway through her podcast she began discussing her family’s gap plan where she immediately debunked the myth that relationships are always 50/50…because they most definitely are not. I felt so seen. This had been a struggle for us, especially as we not so gracefully transitioned to life in quarantine.
She went on to talk about percentages and the importance of naming at what level you’re functioning for your partner (20%, 40%, 50%, etc.) and having them do the same. If you’re collectively functioning below 100% there’s a gap that somehow needs to be filled. This is where the gap plan comes into play. What happens when both partners are below 50%? How do you make up the gap to get to 100%? She suggested her family’s strategies of sleep, moving your body, eating well, limiting access to news, and being able to talk about when you’re having a hard time.
Lightbulb moment. I was feeling stressed, overwhelmed and frustrated. I was exhausted in every sense of the word and was maybe operating at 30%…tops. I was subconsciously expecting Mike to make up the remaining 70%, not considering that he, too, likely had a tank approaching empty. Of course, this shifted frequently in our house. Sometimes by the minute. High anxiety moments with the boys would quickly zap one or both of us of all we had. It literally felt like we were always operating below 100 and it was our relationship that suffered the most.
I got home from my walk feeling slightly hopeful. I told Mike that I thought we needed to do a better job of checking in with each other – especially amid such a stressful time. I suggested that he listen to the podcast. He did, and it resonated with him, too. Just like Zones of Regulation gave Fletcher the language he needed to describe how his body was feeling, this gave us a vehicle for communicating at what level we were operating in a particular moment. It was a tangible turning point for us – one I revisit frequently in my mind.
Now let me be clear that the remainder of the year hasn’t been all roses and rainbows. Raising children is hard. Raising children with sensory processing challenges adds some really difficult layers. And raising children with sensory processing challenges during a pandemic often feels impossible. How do you help children who already feel so out of control feel settled and content during a time with such tremendous uncertainties? Most days, we’ve struggled to do that as adults.
Virtual learning nearly wrecked us. It doesn’t look or feel like “school” and our very bright, but incredibly literal Fletcher wasn’t initially on board. His beginning of the year excitement was fleeting. By day two, once he realized he could “see” his friends, but not actually be with them in person, we began to see behaviors we hadn’t seen…ever. We anticipated that this would be hard on him, but we didn’t know to what degree. And it was difficult to adequately prepare him for an experience we weren’t familiar with either.
It got to the point where Fletcher and I were both crying daily, sometimes multiple times. It didn’t take me long to figure out that none of it was worth the figurative price we were paying. But I didn’t know what to do next. With the encouragement of some of our nearest and dearest, we decided to take a two-week break from virtual school in late September. To be honest, I wasn’t sure we’d return. It wasn’t a popular decision with Fletcher’s teacher who was looking out for his best interest, but Fletcher and I both needed time to regroup. Ultimately, Mike and I knew him best and while stressful, that decision would later reinforce for me the importance of trusting your gut as a parent.
Our two-week hiatus from virtual learning was filled with hours spent outside. We hiked, skipped rocks, rode bikes, played at parks, spent afternoons on swings, splashing in puddles and collecting leaves. We spent time with the few family members in our bubble, did science experiments, baked, snuggled on the couch. We healed and prepared for our next move – whatever that would be.
During this time, we worked on Fletcher’s virtual assignments as it felt manageable, but it was never forced. Partly because I just didn’t have the energy to fight and I was working hard to make sure Max was getting his needs met, too. Fletcher is the type of kid who never forgets a negative experience and will almost always associate that particular event with feelings of stress, sadness or fear. I felt like we were towing an exceptionally fine line. And we couldn’t afford for school to become so negative so early in his educational career – after all, he had just started kindergarten.
Our two-week break turned out to be the reset we needed. While I was ready to pull him out of school completely, I recognized the value in having some structured school time for Fletcher. He thrives on structure, particularly if it isn’t initiated by his mom. Rather than jumping back into virtual learning full steam ahead, we started with one or two classes a day and then gradually added to that until he was fully participating in all core academic classes. We made the decision to focus our energy there and did not include art, music, or physical education. In fact, we are still opting out of his specials. Fletcher needs frequent movement breaks and time away from his computer to recharge. Adding in those additional classes was far too much for him to handle. We’re six months from our transition back to virtual learning and during a recent conference with Fletcher’s teacher, she gushed about his progress and gave him all “excellents.” I could have cried. What a difficult journey it has been.
We have regularly heard the word “pivot” during the last 12 months. Almost at nauseum. Businesses have had to pivot how they serve their customers (I hope curbside doesn’t ever become a thing of the past!), employers have had to pivot to allow staff to work remotely, health care facilities have pivoted to virtual visits, schools have pivoted to virtual learning, families have had to pivot how they care for and educate their children…Life has had to…pivot.
Despite being our most challenging year, our family’s pandemic pivot has strengthened us in ways we never could have anticipated.
It forced us to take a dramatic pause. That pause gave us the time and space to tune in to what all of us need. Now we have a better idea of how to live a purposeful and intentional life moving forward.
It has produced difficult decision-making scenarios which challenged us to lean-in and trust that we know what’s best for our boys and our family. (There were moments we could have been swayed, but we stuck to our convictions and we’re so glad we did.)
It completely altered how Mike and I check-in with each other. We’re not perfect, but we now have more tools in our toolbox paired with a collective desire to band together – even in the hardest moments.
It helped us realize that we love to be at home and our boys don’t actually need a jam-packed schedule with a million transitions to be content (just the thought of that stresses me out!). In fact, they’d prefer more downtime. (This lesson was mainly for always-on-the-go me!)
It helped me see that while I like to have control over situations and tend to approach things from a place of structure and routine, there is value in making space for things to unfold organically. I have come to appreciate less rigidity. (Again, this one was for me!)
It gave our family time together that we never would have had. It certainly wasn’t free of heartache, stress and frustration, but it helped us get to know each other better – as odd as that sounds.
It reinforced for me that my gut never lies. But in order to listen to my instincts I have to find the time and space to do so. This pandemic has reintroduced me to meditation as a way of really tuning into myself, although sometimes easier said than done. I have found a love of guided meditation and appreciate that there are so many options online.
It pushed me back to bi-weekly therapy sessions which is the greatest, most consistent form of self-care I’ve ever had.
It taught us that even when things are hard, there is a certain kind of resilience that comes from love. We certainly rely heavily on each other, but are also strengthened by the love of family and friends. Even when it’s the tough kind.
We’re not out of the woods yet, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. As hope glimmers on the horizon, I am grieving all that has been lost in the last year (most importantly the loss of life), while simultaneously feeling grateful for all that we’ve gained. How do you even begin to reconcile that?
I haven’t always been a hugger but among so many other things, that has been altered during the last year, too. Forever changed by our pandemic pivot, I can’t wait to tightly, warmly, and lovingly wrap my arms around all of my people in the biggest embrace of hope.