The past few days have featured long conference calls, but honestly it’s good to fill the air with other voices. And it’s good, for a little while, to have a problem that everyone can work on solving together, and which can come together in a few hours.
I feel the same way about this journal. Most days, I feel like I am bad at everything. And especially now, I am constantly being reminded that I didn’t buy the right things during the grocery shop, that I haven’t started the book club book for Tuesday, that my courses for Summer aren’t planned, that my closet is a disaster, that my toddler wasn’t interested in my crafts, and on and on.
But, I can write a few sentences: mostly to myself. I can watch the words appear on the page, and not care if they’re good words or the best words. It’s soothing to end the day having made something small, even if no one else will see it.
I’ve been trying to care less about productivity. Historically, I’ve been someone who’s brain has to be constantly distracted by work. For ages, my entire self esteem rested on the idea that I was someone who works hard and cares a lot. But then you end up with a pandemic: something you can’t work your way out of. You can be the Very Best Little Pandemic Champion and you will still be in a pandemic.
Today brought the good news that in a few weeks, we might be easing up on social distancing restrictions. Our curve is flattening. We’re such a long way from the end, but there’s a little scrap of daylight to hold on to. And so I’m beginning to think about what I might want to take with me from this time. Definitely, I want to make soda bread while listening to folk music. And I want to keep going on walks with my toddler: noticing the small things she notices. And I want to keep writing, in a small way, even though I know that work cannot save me.
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