Yesterday I went out for a long run to try to lift my mood and lower my anxiety.
Actually, it was more of a run/walk, because the pollen has been out in full force and my allergies are making me cough. And running through the gently frolicking pollen made me cough. A lot.
Now, on the one hand this was helpful because I didn't have to cross the street when I saw people approaching. They crossed the street when they heard me.
On the other hand, coughing incessantly is miserable in the best of times.
But at this juncture I am all, cherry blossoms? Or Covid? CherryblossomsorCovid?
I have been coughing so often that I have a perpetual headache. Which I believe is also a symptom of the illness.
So now I'm regularly checking for mucus. Mucus? Check! Good! I have a stuffy nose. Also good! I'm coughing because my throat is irritated by the mucus. Good! I don't have a fever. Excellent!
Not all people who got sick had a fever.
I really and truly don't think I have Covid. I have seasonal allergies. And anxiety. It's just very bad timing.
I mean, let's be fair: all of this is very bad timing for everyone. There's never a great time for a pandemic.
Which reminds me. Have you read Year of the Flood? I really do believe Margaret Atwood is a visitor from the future. She knew everything way ahead.
Last week I emailed my psychiatrist to tell him that while I am taking my medication religiously and exercising and getting out in the sunshine, there are times when I just lose it. I asked if he could prescribe Ativan or something of the sort.
He called. I didn't recognize the number, but fortunately I answered anyway, and we had a little chat.
When he asked how I was, my inclination was to say, "Fine!"
Remember how I was going to lie to him that one time and then didn't?
So I started to say fine but then was like, I am really not doing very well. I'm not in crisis. Except, in some moments I am kind of in crisis. Sometimes I just get myself so wound up that I can't calm down.
Not a panic attack, because now I know what those are like. But like the 3:00 am anxiety that jacks up my adrenaline and makes me physically uncomfortable.
I cannot be alone in this.
Just getting a prescription made me feel better.
Of course, I walked into the pharmacy wearing gloves, with my sleeves pushed up so I wouldn't have to push them up with my hands when I washed them, and carrying nothing but my credit card. Which I sprayed down when I got home, after disposing of my gloves and scrubbing my hands.
Over the weekend, the kids said they would like daily running to be a weekday thing. I agreed.
But then today, when I suggested we go for our run, my son said, "It's supposed to rain all day."
I looked out the window and said, "It's not raining."
"But it's supposed to. All day."
Frankly, I didn't have the energy to get them enthused for a run. I didn't even have the energy to threaten them into it.
So I said fine. We put on GoNoodle and they jumped around to a bunch of those and giggled, and I figure that's at least as good.
I don't have anything funny to say. All I want to do is sleep. I feel this crushing guilt for not scheduling my children today, for letting them have screen time, for having GoNoodle possibly be the most constructive thing we do today.
I'm supposed to be a positive force in the household, holding it together for the kids, whose anxieties are leaking out in crying and in anger.
And all I want to do is hide and sleep.
Hide and sleep. A new game for children with tired parents.
Stop, drop, and roll. Shelter in place.
Love and hugs,