My boss was very clear on this point.
Last week, I was quickly approaching my stress limit. Work was overwhelming. I was near tears.
I know. I cry. A lot. People barely even notice anymore. But seriously. These were stress limit tears. They’re legit.
Because look it.
Every one of those files was a letter I had to send. A phone call I had to make. A meeting I had to schedule. And hold. All in the midst of the SOL testing I was coordinating. Which, if you don’t work in education, you may not know exactly what kind of fresh hell SOL testing season can be. But trust me. It’s awful.
So my near-tears were legitimate. They were a normal, emotionally-healthy human person response to the level of stress I was carrying.
But before I could manage a full on meltdown. And get my co-workers to throw chocolate at me as they walked by my office, careful to avoid eye contact, lest they be required to comfort me. The Govs closed the schools.
In a matter of minutes. All of my work disappeared.
Like, literally, every single reason for me to exist in my job just disappeared.
So…I guess I’ll just be in my office scrolling through the Indeed…?
And so here I am. Day Two of quarantine. Or social distancing. Or telecommuting. Or whatever label you put on it. Just don’t call it a snow day.
I’m calling it a reset.
I’m not prone to worry. Or panic. I’m actually probably a little too cavalier about emergency situations.
I’m all like, meh. Shit’s gonna happen whatever way it’s meant to happen. Yep. I sure do see that building burning down with every single thing I own inside. Did anyone happen to grab the beer and Doritos on the way out?
And I’m just not curious enough to really research shit. My brain tends to be all over the place anyway. I don’t need to throw more shit in there for it to keep up with. I’m barely intelligible in conversation as it is.
So I have no idea how truly serious the Rona is.
I don’t know if we’re overreacting or underreacting or doing the exact right things.
No. I do know. That we are probably not doing the exact right things. That would be way out of character for our corporation-funded government. And entitled citizenry.
But I do know that I’m going to take full advantage of whatever shit show this is about to become. Or not become.
I’m reading the really big books that I haven’t had time for in months. I’m getting out on the mountains I haven’t had time to visit lately. Until I’m forcibly locked in my home. Which I assume is coming. I’m gonna walk and play with my babies. I’m gonna clean out all the shit I’ve accumulated in my home. Except the expired foods. I’m gonna continue to hoard those. Because I need to keep my stomach in post-apocalypse condition. Y’all, I can eat an-y-thing.
And I’m gonna yoga. So much yoga.
My girl Roanoke Yoga is hosting her sessions online right now. Do you know how awesome it is to wake up. Throw my yoga mat down in my living room. And do a full on yoga session with Roanoke Yoga?
I’m trying to talk J-Vicious into offering some online workouts, too. Because I can’t be trusted to do leg day on my own. I need discipline.
And look. All of my upcoming races are getting cancelled and shifting to virtual options. Which is frustrating for a runner. We’re a pretty social group. But also? I get to run the Blue Ridge something- because I was registered for the Double Marathon, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be running 52 miles of pavement without a shit ton of people cheering me through and calling me a badass, so it’ll probably just be the half for me- at whatever fucking time of day I want. I get to run Mill Mountain Mayhem. At whatever fucking time I want. All of these races I was planning are shifting to virtual options. And I can’t say I don’t kind of love that.
Y’all. I get to sleep in. Then go run. And still get credit for the race.
You can’t do that in real life. There is no sleeping in on race day.
Head Mountain Junkie is unreasonably specific about start times.
Basically, I’m gonna do whatever I can to come out of the Corons happier, healthier, and maybe even a slightly better human.
Because the shit show that could potentially be waiting for me on the other side of this will require that.
And I will return to my regularly scheduled stress tears at that time.
So, keep that chocolate on hand. I’m gonna need it.