It’s the 52nd day of staying-home-safe for me and my family. It’s actually a little longer but I’m counting from the actual day the county started the lockdown.
The first four weeks were super intense for me. Shit was coming up that I hadn’t a clue was still dwelling in me. It was truly an opening, the dark night of the soul, a heroes journey of sorts (even when I didn’t feel any heroism). My spiritual knowing went on shut-off and all I could do was be present with every single moment. Having two little ones demanding of me 24/7 was the biggest obstacle of all and not be able to take them out was an experiment in extremes.
I cried a lot. The world’s uncertainty was scary and I don’t get scared easily. There was a sense of major anxiety wrapped in panic. I felt helpless. I could no longer say “I don’t live in that reality.”
But, in spite of the emotional roller coaster ride, something happened around the fifth week. I was in the yard working and clearing bushes when it hit me: I had no time like this before to dedicate to our property. I also came to realize that I had been asking for this for a long time. I wanted time with the kids and be home to mend to my house. What I never imagined was that people out there would be dying. People all over the world were hurting.
I stopped watching the news around that time. I couldn’t deal with what was happening and the guilt of being safely at home with my sweethearts.
Every time I heard or saw the word “quarantine” I was triggered. I couldn’t understand or remember why until one day doing strenuous clearing of trees I understood.
In April of 1998 I adopted my first little girl from Romania. She came sick with a chaparon from the adoption agency. They said she had a cold. She was two years old and so malnourished. That first month she slept with me holding my hand. She wouldn’t let me go in fear she would be sent back to a horrific orphanage. One morning I woke and I was almost blind. I could barely get up. I felt feverish and aching all over. I called my mother who lived nearby to please take the kids to school and my little girl to daycare. When my mother took my temperature it was 105. She rushed me to the hospital. I was blacking out. Walking into the hospital I passed out and I have very little recollection of the first few days there.
I was placed on quarantine for over a week and a half. No visitors. I couldn’t see my baby girl or my two sons. They tested me for everything and couldn’t give me any medication but Tylenol because CDC couldn’t find what was wrong with me. I had doctors baffled. They assumed that my daughter carried something with her from Transylvania. I was touching heaven’s gate often almost in comatose state at times. The fever would spike and they had to wait until then to run their tests. Eventually after every test, poking, pricking, stabbing, and scans the infectious illness took its toll. I was fortunate. Almost two weeks later, on Memorial Day weekend, I walked out of the hospital with a diagnosed of “AB Mountain Fever.” But even that didn’t explain all the symptoms. Until CDC could give the okay I wasn’t able to just go. They kept a close eye on me for another six months.
THAT was quarantine. Real hellish seclusion. People coming into a room with suits on and I was unable to see and feel them clearly. So when I hear the word “quarantine” now I don’t see it as what this has been. This lockdown has been about clearing up ourselves and staying safe to help others. It has been in place to allow an infectious disease to slow down.
I was 30 years old. I was told that my heart took a beating during all the symptoms. I already had a mild heart condition. So I am super conscious of how I show up in the world at this time. I don’t believe there is anything I can’t overcome until it’s my time to truly leave this journey. But, by God, if I can do my part to stay healthy for my kiddos I will. If it means wearing a mask, staying put in my house, lifting others in love and humor, holding sacred space for me and the world….well you betcha I will do it.
I have replayed that May of 1998 so many times. I have let go of so much anger for many issues that showed up while I was laying in a hospital bed and unable to take care of matters in the world. Little did I know that April of 2020 would relive so many of the same emotions. And just like that in pulling roots out of my yard I was also pulling roots of hurt from long ago.
We have been gifted a lot at this time. And yes, a lot of grief and sorrow and atrocities. We have in our hands the ability to save ourselves and heal. The quarantine has brought about anger and rage; sadness and despair; hate and insanity. It has also allowed many to stay put and work on their own dark night of the soul. The entire world is doing it. It’s a global opportunity to raise our vibrations and work on our loving muscle to be forgiving, accept others even when they think or act differently, and acknowledge that ultimately compassion is what we need in our world.
I can’t change your mind. I won’t even try or dare. This is my journey. You have to figure out how you show up during this time. Our lives will never go back to what was before this March. But, darlings, I ask that you let go of the anger in whatever you are practicing. Let go of hatred. Let go of that need to bulldoze over everything just to make your point. That will never ever help cure anything. It only decreases the ability to allow love and compassion in our world.
I love you.