Living Fully Enough ... For Now

Last week my husband and I celebrated 35 years of marriage with a plan for dinner out at one of the nicest restaurants in Pensacola. The restaurant was serving 8 outside tables far apart with staff wearing masks. The reservation was for the obscene early hour of 5pm to avoid crowds. We were excited.

Then one of the employees tested positive for the coronavirus and the restaurant had to shut down.

So, we did “the best we can” which seems like something we’re doing a lot.

We clinked stemmed glasses of sparkling water for me and scotch for him over cheese and crackers sitting on barstools in a small temporary rental house where we cope with a world-wide pandemic, a construction delay of 5 months on a new place downtown, live in boxes and have no room for a table and chairs.

After the clinks, gifts and cards, we proceed to a ritual established at about marriage-year-30 to conclude our anniversary celebration.

My husband turns to me with a grin and asks, “Would you like to renew for a year?” 

I always reply without hesitation. “Oh yeah!”

This year I pause. I honestly did not know why.

“How about we go month to month?”

My husband beams. “Sure, hon. That’s good enough.”

Deciding for a timeframe of month-to-month is not a reflection of commitment to our marriage (we are sooooo married) but a reflection of current reality. Life is upended with daily news briefs and rising stats. We live with immediate changes in our perspectives of how to live our lives. This is life today.

Don’t know about you, but month-to-month is about as far into the future as I can fathom.   

The Bad Day

After 5 months, yesterday was my first bad day in this new way of living in a pandemic. It was a really bad day.

Like you, I made the best of self-quarantine. In my at-home productivity I finish my taxes early, iron everything in the house (it’s okay I like ironing), sort through old make up, and organize my drawers which are really plastic bins lined up against the wall waiting to be moved. I qualify for a new loan in case I want to buy a house, finish a book proposal, zoom my heart out, lift weights, finish reading my 10th book and work hard to increase my speed on long bike rides.

During the last 6 weeks, I indulge in 4 car trips – 3 to Nashville and 1 to Atlanta - and since my cheerful driving limit is 3 hours this goes to show how I stretch my ideas of finding happy.  

So it hasn’t been all that bad.

Until yesterday. 

To cheer myself on mornings when I feel the blues start to flutter around me, I put on bright red matte lipstick. Just for the hell of it. But yesterday the lipstick didn’t help at all; misery sat down hard on my shoulders.

I couldn’t concentrate on writing, so I started cleaning and almost immediately a bleach spot from that damn Clorox foam appears on the red linen top I’m wearing. Misfortune, wretchedness, despair. Call it what you want. I am now angry at myself.

I analyzed and dissected my suffering.

• First, I am very tired of being cooped up and feeling underused. When I started putting on my pajamas at 7pm since I had nowhere to go, I felt unconventional. I bought 3 pair of new pajamas! Sauntering down the stairs as if in a photo shoot was fun. The fun didn’t last. Mostly, I’m tired of days of Senate hearings, small plans and acting like a drop off at UPS makes for a productive day.

• Second, I am tired of being scared. People are dying. I am afraid for my family, my friends and neighbors. I am scared for everyone. I am scared for me.

•  Third, I’ve had it with people not wearing a mask and am borderline furious that some act like life is all normal. I am angry with the stranger who comes down the aisle in Publix the wrong way without a mask on. I feel like I might shout something obscene like, “Do you not know about the coronavirus?” This feeling of distraught hampers my notion that the world is full of caring people.

• Fourth, it is a rainy week! A rainy week…not day! Ugh. Ditch any plan for outdoor activity.

On this bad day of mine, my wise friend, Deanna Berg, would encourage me to “reframe” my thoughts. Make things rosier. Think bright. I consider this, then decline. Wearing all this optimism is tiring today.

I stay miserable all day by choice. I put my pajamas on at 2pm, sit in front of the tv covered with a faded throw, eat a bowl of double dark chocolate gelato and let misfortune, gloom and sadness join me.

That’s it for the day.

At the Bottom of Misery

Once I got into it having a bad day it felt like a welcome reward for trying so hard to make life somewhat normal where I get things done, regale about possibilities, set and accomplish large and small goals and inch toward a future horizon.

The truth is (and I bet you have the same wish) I want my life back.

I want to eat out, hug my friends, go to the farmer’s market, pack my bags, get on an airplane, smile at strangers and not worry about me – or anyone I know - getting infected. I want to feel like the future is bright and foreseeable.

Pieces of our lives don’t fit together well at the moment. Understatement.

The Day After the Bad Day

On the morning after the bad day I deliver hot tea to my husband’s bedside and announce, “It’s raining.”

“Uh oh,” he replies. “I might have to lock you in your office.”

He is serious. From experience he knows I find solutions to my frustrations.

In our sailing days, weather could often interfere with our cruising adventure and keep us in place for a while in 42 feet of space. At anchor in a safe harbor the rain poured; the wind howled. Below I took the forward bunk; Herb took the aft bunk. We read, listened to great music, took long naps and visited. We coped well.

But there was a rule. I guess it was my rule.

This arrangement of patience and muddling through was good for 3 days. On the fourth day, come hell or high water, we were going to pull anchor and head out. Another cove, a change of scene, new cruisers to wave to … whatever. Head out.

Most of the time the weather gods were benevolent.

But once in a while, the weather worsened and we were caught in raging seas and high winds. My husband’s response to this situation was to yell over the wind something like, “You and your crazy ideas. I should never have listened to you.”

All to say, you don’t have to listen to me either.  But you should.

In the Pink

The day after my miserable day brightened life. I felt really, really good confined inside my small space. It was as if I had dumped a big sack of the blues in the recycle bin that was being picked up. I dressed up with red lipstick and all. I wrote with fury and checked off things on my list.

Today my plans are smaller plans or no plans at all. My calendar of empty spaces mocks me. And even though this was just one day, life’s course seems best to lead it day by day.  

You’ll know when the time comes if choosing a bad day might the best use of your time. I encourage you not ignore the opportunity.

Un-invent yourself for the moment. Have a full-on bad day. Put on your best pajamas and wallow in misery. Wail at the gods about all the things you miss and the sorry state of the world. Caramel ice cream might be a good choice.

What you can expect of yourself after these moments is to find a place where things appear brighter. The day after a bad day, when you can see the world as having another whack at it, is a really, really good day.

It’s also best to understand that we can’t be full-on about life right now. Things are disordered. Nothing fits together in this moment; we can’t make things fit.

We shelter in place, everything grinds down to being bearable then somethings begin to feel slightly better. In truth, we are bystanders to life gone awry and living a full, well-intentioned, extraordinary life is harder than ever.  

Life full enough - for now.

Thank you for taking your time to read and support my work. Special thanks to all of you who continue to forward posts. I appreciate that!

All Photos by B. Pagano