Author: Jeannine M. DeHart

Loss

/ Jeannine M. DeHart / Leave a comment

Yesterday, I unexpectedly lost my sister-in-law,. My heart hurts for my brother and their two sons.

I went for a long walk on the chilly beach this afternoon to remember her. The powerful ebb and flow of the tide reminded me of what little control we have over how life unfolds. Maybe that’s where we find comfort in times like this – the ocean, the sky, the trees, the sun – will all be here doing their thing long after we’re gone. Make the most of every moment – hug your people close and never miss an opportunity to tell them you love them

How to Make the Most of Social Distancing

/ Jeannine M. DeHart / 2 Comments

Finding the silver lining amid the chaos.

Image by Rene Asmussen

Yes, coronavirus is bad. Yes, many of us are panicking. Yes, we will get through this.

First and foremost, try not to panic. I know — easier said than done. My anxiety level this week is inching into the red zone. The declaration by the WHO of coronavirus as a global pandemic is leaving most of us feeling somewhere between scared and terrified. We are experiencing an abrupt upheaval of our routines, our livelihoods, and the daily things we rely upon for stability. We are asking questions like — Do I have enough food in the house? Am I going to be paid if I have to take time off from work? Will my kid’s learning be derailed if schools are closed? Will my kids get sick? Will someone I love get sick or worse? Will I get sick? How long will I be stuck at home? Will the economy collapse? The list of weighty questions goes on. According to recent reports, most of us will recover if we are exposed to the virus. Still, ‘most of us’ does not mean all of us and that little fact is nagging in the back of our minds. We are feeling unsettled.

Coronavirus is certainly upending our lives. Any time our usual routine is interrupted, it is normal to feel rattled. Many of us will be forced to work from home, our kids will be logging onto Google Classroom from home, and we are practicing social distancing. These are new concepts to wrap our heads around, in addition to being bombarded 24/7 with ever-changing facts and figures regarding the severity of the pandemic.

Take a deep breath or three. What can we do? Other than following preparedness guidelines, the only thing we can do right at this moment is to concentrate on and appreciate what is right in front of us. Amid the panic and uncertainty, we can and should and need to find moments of solace. There are opportunities to make the most of the situation, despite the fray.

How many of us spend our weeks running around like chickens without heads — stretching ourselves thin to get all the things done? By the time Friday rolls around, most of us are burnt out from commuting, working, and the daily grind of household chores, shuttling kids to sports and activities and squeezing in time for our needs, such as fitness. Weekends are filled with shuttling kids to sports and activities, catching up on household ‘to-do’ lists, prepping for the week to come, and somewhere in the midst, finding time to relax and take care of ourselves.

There is a silver lining to social distancing and self-quarantining (provided you are not sick, of course) — we suddenly have the glorious gift of extra time. There is no commute, no rushing kids to activities, no last-minute trips to the grocery store, no grabbing dinner out because you don’t have time to cook a decent meal. Dear god, if nothing else, in the middle of the panic and chaos spinning by us, stop to realize this. There is always a flip side to the coin. Here are some ideas on how to use that extra time:

Connect with the Kids — Kids home from school? School and extra-curricular activities canceled? Put technology away. Turn off the TV. Take a lunch break from work and study. Start a game of Monopoly, do a puzzle, play cards, put on some music and dance, laugh and be silly. While it’s also important to address any questions/concerns your kids may have regarding coronavirus, take this time as an opportunity to talk to them about all the things you never seem to find time to discuss.

Connect with Your Partner — After the kids trail off to bed, turn off the tv, put down the devices, open a bottle of wine, sit on the couch with your partner and connect. Talk about your fears and concerns surrounding the virus if you must, but also find time to push aside the news to check in with each other about your lives in general. And, have sex, don’t forget the sex.

Multi-task — You may still have to log into work and supervise the kids studying, but you can throw in a load of laundry, run the vacuum when you have a break, stir something on the stove, or take time to help with homework.

Make the House Smell Good — If cooking and baking are your things, take the time you would normally use commuting to try out some recipes with items from your newly stocked pandemic pantry. Check out these plant-based recipe options by the Minimalist Baker.

Meal Prep — Make and freeze soups, stews, and casseroles. In the event your household comes down with coronavirus, you will have some nourishing meals ready to go.

Netflix — Binge watch Peaky Blinders, Good Girls, Dirty John, Ozark, The Pharmacist, Atypical, Unbelievable, and The End of the F**cking World — all good binges to start.

Selfcare — When was the last time you found a half-hour to fill up the bathtub, light some candles and slide into a bubble bath? Find a quiet place and meditate or do some yoga. Try a workout at home. Here are some good bodyweight-no-equipment-required moves to try.

Reorganize and Catch-up — Clean out that closet you’ve been meaning to reorganize, paint the room you bought paint for a month ago, knock off some of the little, niggling projects on your to-do list.

Wardrobe Comfort — No need to dress for opening the laptop and working from home. Unless, of course, you’re on a conference call — in that case, put on some goddamn clothes. Otherwise, pull on those comfy yoga pants and t-shirt or better yet, stay in your pajamas all day long.

Connect with Family and Friends — It’s likely many of your family and friends are home, too. Been meaning to call your brother? Been meaning to talk to your elderly Aunt? Have a friend you’ve been playing phone-tag with? Now is the time to check in on them via a call or Skype or Facetime or Marco Polo. Find time for a little distant socializing.

Laugh — While coronavirus is definitely no laughing matter, find something light and funny to watch on Netflix. Browse funny memes. Watch your favorite old TV re-runs.

Although we have no guarantees, as there are never any guarantees in life, it’s likely our lives will return to normal in a few months and we’ll be back to our busy lives stacked and stacked with things to do, but for now, try to breathe and appreciate the simple things right in front of you.

“When you arise in the morning think of what a privilege it is to be alive, to think, to enjoy, to love.” ~ Marcus Aurelius

A Moment in Time

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A moment in time fades, all moments fade.

Photo by Jordan Benton at Pexels

One minute your kitchen is full of people, their energy filling the room with laughter, chattering voices, cheeks flushed with wine — interaction, energy, connection, and then it fades. The conversation slows, yawns overtake laughter, wine-flushed cheeks hold up sleepy eyes. One by one, guests leave the table. Hugs ensue; thank-yous, goodbyes, and take-cares. Dishes are cleared of the lovingly prepared meal. Half-finished bottles of wine dot the table, the rush of the dishwasher humming in the background. The stove cleared of pots and pans — scrubbed clean. The leftovers packed neatly away in the fridge. The moment has ended.

All moments end — good or bad, happy or sad — all fleeting. Why do we often fail to see how quickly we move from one moment to the next? We are in constant motion, and with our movement, our feelings shift, as well. We feel pain or fear or dread or anger or some other emotion we perceive as negative and, distracted by those feelings, we forget the very next moment may unfold beautifully in an entirely different way.

The phrase, “this too shall pass” is an age-old adage with Persian roots which serves to remind us everything is temporary — every feeling, every situation, every moment. So, if you find yourself in a moment of intense pain or utter joy, try to pause, take a deep breath, absorb and appreciate the here and now with the knowledge that in a moment it will be but a memory.

Butter on My Bread

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An excerpt from my memoir, Tulip

As soon as I entered the dimly lit kitchen the morning after “It” had happened again in fourth grade, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, I remembered our predicament.  Mom was missing again. The days leading up to it had been a blur of chaos, most of which left me hiding in my room under the covers drawing myself within a cocoon of safety.

Dad didn’t hear me enter the room. He was standing at the kitchen counter with his back to me, methodically making sandwiches for our school lunches.  He lacked the ease of routine that Mom possessed. His orchestrated movements – the bread here, the meat there – it wasn’t natural. This couldn’t be real life.  In real life, Mom ironed his shirt and pants in the morning.  He slung a tie around his neck, slipped into his shiny shoes, grumbled a goodbye, and was off to work. This dad, in his undershirt and dress pants slapping together school sandwiches, was not the dad I knew.

When he sensed my presence, he turned around slowly, defeatedly, his shoulders hunched, which seemed to have become his new posture.

“Morning, Fluff,” a false sense of confidence punching through the thin veil of his bravado.  “Morning Daddy,” I countered with my equally false greeting. 

I wanted Mom in the kitchen, even if it meant it was the black, marble-eyed, crazy version of my mother. I wanted her there to make me feel normal again. I wanted Dad to be on his way to work smoking cigarettes and, listening to AM talk radio. I didn’t want him struggling through school sandwiches with a thick slice of sadness. 

“I put butter on your sandwiches. I don’t know what Mom puts on the sandwiches, but I like butter, so there’s butter on the sandwiches,” he said talking softly and swiftly, more to himself than to me. 

He wore stress like a welder’s mask covering the emotion beneath, protecting both of us from the blazing, palatable pain in the room.

“It’s ok, Daddy, I like butter on my sandwiches,” I lied. 

I had never had butter on my sandwiches.  Mom always made my salami and mustard or ham and mustard sandwiches sans butter, but I was willing to try butter in this instance if it meant Dad’s droopy eyes would go back to normal.

Somehow, Dad got all five of us off to school with lunches in-hand, our names neatly written in his all caps printed writing on the paper bags. He wasn’t aware that Mom usually only put our first initial on the bags, but he seemed to take pride in writing out our full names.  As I reached up to grab my bag off of the countertop, I felt the weight of this small morning task he had performed.  With a butter knife and some paper bags, he taught me what perseverance looked like. 

I took my cue from him even though my insides felt like jiggly, shaky jelly, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the door with my brothers to school.  I found that place inside where you only see the few, small steps in front of you, not the big scary monster behind you, or the unknown, overgrown path in front. When I bit into my sandwich at lunchtime, I realized for the first time that butter tastes just as good on a salami sandwich as mustard. It wasn’t the same as mustard, but it was a sandwich and it was good and my dad had made it in his undershirt and dress pants before he left for work.