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Authenticity / Lifestyle / Relationship / Wellness

Confessions Of A Woman In Isolation

I’ve worn nothing but yoga pants and sports bras. Every day. If they smell clean and are free from food stains, they make the cut.

I don’t miss shoes. Or socks. Or sleeves. At all.

I peeked into my closet this morning. What was once a pile of clothes and “nothing to wear” is now a ton of clothes and no place to wear them. I suddenly realized I may have too much. 

I ordered laundry detergent online before all this went down and the delivery was postponed indefinitely because it’s not an essential product and while I understand that thinking, sometimes cleaning and folding laundry are some of the only things that can take my mind off of thinking about all the uncertainties in life so laundry detergent feels pretty fucking essential to me right now. 

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only who dares to still shop in the fresh produce aisles. Secretly I’m glad that it means there’s one less thing I need to change about my life right now.

I’m not a fan of reduced fat Greek yogurt but that’s all they had at the grocery store last week and I complained a little when the first spoonful hit my mouth because it didn’t taste like 2%. Then I felt guilty for complaining because some people can barely feed their families. 

Music sounds even more incredible to me now.

I no longer underestimate the power of a good meme. 

My friends remind me how to laugh and while I’ve never been a big fan of video conferencing, you bet your ass I’m grateful for it. 

Sometimes I wish I could sleep all day.

I now understand how one could become an agoraphobe. 

I realize my anger is my fear in disguise. And when I’m not loving to you, I’m actually not loving myself through all this.

I appreciate him in ways I didn’t think I could and the little things that used to annoy me now remind me that we’re lucky to be in this together.

Sometimes I beat myself up for not writing another book now that I have the time I was wishing I had before all this happened. But then I remember that healing takes time and energy too. 

I used to feel like a hard day’s work meant that I accomplished something. Now I pat myself on the back if I get out of bed before 9am to shower.

I’ve told myself many lies to convince myself this pandemic won’t harm anyone I love, as if we live in some immunity bubble and this kind of thing only happens to other people, in other places. I’m ok with those lies because they keep me sane. 

I’m rewatching The Office on Netflix for, like, the hundredth time because I’ve pretty much memorized all the punchlines and there’s comfort in knowing what’s coming. 

I don’t want things to “go back to normal”. “Normal” wasn’t working. But neither is this. 

I’ve actually been unknowingly hoarding canned goods, tea, books and tarot cards for a time just like this, all my adult life. 

I regret not spending more time with you when we could see each other in the flesh.

I think I had to get a lot taken away before I could be truly grateful for what I’ve got. 

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