It’s been a week since I felt the urge to write this, but life has been chaotic. I haven’t done laundry since early March, and I find myself showering every other day at best. Tooth brushing is now a once-a-day ritual, and yesterday, my kids had Pizza Rolls for breakfast. My daily attire has mostly consisted of sweats, which I’ve affectionately dubbed my “pandemic outfit.”
I haven’t touched makeup in three weeks and, as I write this, I’m not even wearing a bra. I’m behind on my favorite podcast by five episodes, lost my exercise routine, and have resorted to stress-eating Cheetos and crystalized ginger. We haven’t picked up “Harry Potter” since before spring break. My emotions are like a roller coaster, swinging from highs to lows in the blink of an eye.
My home resembles a chaotic disaster zone; it feels like someone shook it like a snow globe. I’ve only worn my contacts once recently, for my last in-office therapy session — whenever that was. Time feels surreal right now; I genuinely thought today was Friday (it’s not). I’ve never discussed toilet paper so intensely in my 40 years on this planet.
This pandemic is not the idyllic experience many might suggest. I cannot soak up extra family time, dive into a new hobby, or binge watch shows like “Tiger King.” I simply don’t have the capacity for that. We’re in full-on survival mode, or as I like to call it, JSS: Just Survive Somehow. This phrase, borrowed from The Walking Dead, perfectly encapsulates my current state.
I am not thriving. Now is not the time for that. Thriving requires a mental space I can’t seem to access. My mind is occupied with countless responsibilities: personal, family, work, social life, managing four kids’ homeschooling, grocery shopping, ensuring I get enough rest, remembering to eat, maintaining social distance, and caring for my mental and physical well-being — not to mention a bit of laundry. My days are busier than ever, and free time feels like a distant memory.
About a week into this survival mode, I recognized a familiar feeling. This pandemic resembles maternity leave in many ways. The high hopes new mothers have for their maternity leave mirror the optimistic goals many set during this pandemic. When you bring a baby home, you find yourself housebound, hyper-aware of germs, adjusting to a single income, and obsessing over your baby’s every need — much like the current toilet paper frenzy.
How many first-time mothers think they’ll have time to read or maintain a workout routine after bringing their newborn home? Showers become rare luxuries, and daily routines fly out the window. New moms lose track of time, days, and even themselves. Hair goes up in messy buns, and social interactions happen through screens as homes become cluttered with diapers, takeout boxes, and the occasional lost phone.
It’s overwhelming, and you’re just trying to make it through. Emotions are a whirlwind — a mix of joy and fear.
Picture this: your baby is napping, and you scroll through social media, where people tell you to “enjoy every moment.” Meanwhile, you haven’t showered in days, your shirt is stained with dried milk, the dog just threw up, and you can’t even remember what day it is. You’re broke from unpaid maternity leave, isolated from friends, and all you want is a trip to the gym. Enjoying the moment feels impossible, leading to guilt for not relishing every second with your baby. That guilt only adds to the pressure.
This scenario feels all too familiar, doesn’t it? Just like the unsolicited advice to savor every minute of motherhood, I feel a similar annoyance toward the advice to make the most of this pandemic: enough already. I’m merely trying to survive, and adding guilt to my mental load isn’t helping anyone. I know we will emerge from this pandemic intact, just as I knew I would manage the challenges of motherhood.
Yes, things eventually work out, but I refuse to ignore the present stress and anxiety. I won’t trade my current reality for a hopeful future. I strive to remain present daily, even if my reality isn’t perfect. I refuse to minimize my feelings or feel guilty for not doing more during this pandemic. I’m sharing this to connect with anyone else grappling with similar feelings of overwhelm.
Here’s what I’m focusing on: celebrating small victories. I’ve been making time for social chats via Zoom or FaceTime, journaling, and, believe it or not, I actually managed to do my laundry while writing this (let’s see how long it takes me to put it away). I’m keeping my gratitude practice alive.
I’m just surviving somehow.
For more insights, check out this blog post about managing stress during these challenging times here. If you’re interested in pregnancy-related topics, consider visiting this resource, which offers valuable information. Additionally, Kindbody provides excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary: The pandemic has thrust many parents into survival mode, mirroring the chaotic reality of new motherhood. Juggling personal, family, and work responsibilities leaves little room for thriving or even enjoying the moment. It’s important to acknowledge these feelings and focus on small victories during such overwhelming times.