We have hit some new lows in our home lately. This past week was our most challenging one since the quarantine began some six weeks ago. Our troubles mostly center around peacefully co-existing and doing our distance learning {which is similar to but more guided than homeschooling}. At one low point on Friday my youngest student yelled in a tearful rant, “I like my teachers at school, but I hate my teacher at home!”
The latter is, of course, me. And she’s not wrong to hate her stand-in teacher. I’m not cut out for this and it shows. I can do the laundry, buy the groceries, cook the meals, clean the house, run the errands, manage the calendar, and so on. But I can’t oversee the daily education of the kids, most especially not the ones I brought into this world. We all long for the days of walking into school buildings again to be with beloved teachers and friends—in the flesh.
Now that the novelty of the quarantine has worn off, we’re missing what was in more pronounced ways. And I’m just beginning to recognize some of the emotions I’m feeling and seeing in my kids {and in myself} for what they represent. On the surface they look a lot like boredom, bitterness, anger, and apathy. But I think those outward expressions of emotion might be hiding some deeper feelings like disappointment… fear… and even grief.
“Anything that is mentionable can be more manageable.”
Fred Rogers
It’s abundantly clear that I’m not a teacher. I’m also not a therapist. But if there’s anything I’ve learned from therapists and authors, it’s the importance of naming things. Though it might initially sound silly to state something so obvious as the way we’re feeling at a particular moment, the idea is that taking the time to name our emotions can lessen their impact and allow us to process them in healthier and more productive ways.
“There is power in naming the unnamed things…
Remember today is a plot point. See it honestly for what it is, but don’t confuse the moment for the whole story.”
Emily P. Freeman, The Next Right Thing
And when we go even a step further to name our losses, our successes, our hurts, and our hopes, we start to better understand who we are and where we’re headed. The process helps us see today as one small part of a larger picture and a bigger story. And that frees us to feel less stuck, and maybe less lonely.
My husband recently heard a pastor talk about the importance of naming our specific losses during this pandemic, no matter how small. These can be broken down into a few simple categories: what we’ve lost, what we’re afraid of losing, and what we’ve gained or learned as a result of our loss. I like this framework because it requires us to think about our feelings, it acknowledges the reality of our fears, and yet it still ends on a hopeful note.
This naming exercise is personal and evolves each day and week, but I’ll share a partial list here because so many of these losses feel universal.
Some things I’ve lost.
• My temper. Over and over and over.
• Routine and structure. Every day feels eerily the same as the one before.
• A sense of closure on the school year.
• Quiet time.
• Perceived control. Of my house. Of my schedule. Of my life.
• Summer camps. Lord, have mercy on the mothers.
What I’m afraid of losing.
• My sanity. See list above.
• The health of anyone I love.
• Respect. My family is seeing me at my worst.
• Connection with friends and the rest of the world.
What I’ve learned or gained.
• A deeper appreciation for nature.
• The time to take long family walks.
• The time to appreciate new music styles. I’m trying to learn to play the blues. I grew up taking piano lessons from some amazing church pianists. I wouldn’t trade those lessons or the influence those women had on my life for anything. But right now I most resonate with the minor sounds and disunite chords of jazz and the blues. My 5th Grader needs help with a science experiment? Cue the blues. My 2nd Grader doesn’t understand polygons? Cue the blues. Camp just got cancelled? Cue the blues. It’s cathartic.
Early Sunday morning I noticed my youngest one was feverishly working on this craft project:
I don’t know where she has seen a “comet box” before, but I think this might be the Lord’s way of confirming that we all need to do some naming.
Each day I’ve been encouraging the girls to put a note in the box, and every evening I pop open the back and read the latest “comets.” I won’t share the most personal ones, but the observations range from:
“Life is super horrible and boring!”
to
“I hope camp stays open.”
and
“I hope that everything gets back to normal really soon.”
And then, of course, we have a card that simply reads: “OREOS”
At this point in time, I think that’s fair. In fact, OREOS might be a feeling. And I don’t want to say anything that undermines someone’s feelings or stops the “comets” from coming in.
To be honest, this week is off to a rough start much like last week. But I’m hopeful that giving everyone a little more space to name some things will help.
“Hope is a muscle. It’s a choice. It is a vigorous choice, to see what is wrong and what needs repair and needs our attention and also to keep our hearts and our imaginations and our energy oriented towards what we want to build, what we want to create, what we’re walking towards.” Krista Tippett, On Being
All I know for sure is we have to keep connecting, keep praying, keep naming, and keep flexing our hope muscles to get through this situation in tact.
One hour, one day at a time.
This pandemic is already a memorable chapter in 2020. But it is not the whole story.
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