We're Overthinking This - and It's Exhausting

I don't know about you, but I feel like I'm hitting the pandemic wall lately. Maybe it's the knowledge that we're approaching the one-year mark; maybe it's building on my usual February doldrums; maybe it's the extra tiredness and frustration from the weight I've put on. But it recently occurred to me that there's another complicating factor: every single thing I do requires thinking.

Let me explain.

Under normal circumstances, if I needed a haircut, I'd simply go get a haircut. In my case, I wouldn't even bother making an appointment, I'd just drop in at Supercuts. But right now, even though I haven't had a haircut in a year and a half (I was already overdue when this whole thing started), I can't just walk in to Supercuts and do it. I have to think: is the risk of spending time in public with other people, especially when social distancing isn't an option (at least from the hairdresser), worth getting a haircut? Especially now, when my hair is getting really ratty and unhealthy looking, to the point where it's affecting my self worth, maybe it's worth the risk. But it's certainly not a no-brainer - well, not to me, anyway. Even as simple a choice as getting a haircut requires dwelling on health risks and safety concerns and putting time and effort into coming up with a decision.

It's exhausting. 

Planning dinner is more difficult than it was, because I can't just run out to the store to grab the one ingredient I don't have on hand for the recipe I just came across. I'm not the one doing the grocery shopping, so I can't even plan on the fly depending on what's on sale. I have to think about what's in the pantry and add things to the list instead of relying on walking through the store, noticing an item, and thinking, "Oh, I need that." I need to spend time thinking and planning instead of making it up as I go. This is a huge change of mindset that requires significant mental energy for me. 

And it's not just meals that require planning in advance. All those little sundries that I'd normally grab from CVS on my way home from work, like toothpaste and shampoo and chapstick and Valentines, have to be thought through ahead of time and either ordered online or added to a list for when there's enough on it to make it worth the trip. 

Going to the doctor (which for me is a 6x or more per year event, not just most people's annual physical) involves first a decision of whether an in-person visit is needed or if a video or phone call is acceptable, then for in-person visits, it also involves fielding a screening phone call, a confirmation phone call, and an arrival phone call, and then a further decision of whether to postpone the usual lab tests. Again, probably not a huge deal for most people, but when you throw in my usual anxiety about phone calls, the difficulty is magnified. What would normally cause minor and manageable anxiety now causes the kind of anxiety that affects my daily functioning.

It's exhausting.

My kids have three different school schedules, based on the day of the week, as well as several once-a-week extracurriculars, so there's no autopilot of "It's a weekday: wake up at 7, send the kids to the bus stop at 8:15, see them again at 4." Instead, it's "Am I putting them on the bus? Is it the day where one has a meeting at 9 but the other not until 11? Is it the day when they're both online at 8:50?" And to add to the complications, since the state recently changed the remote learning requirements, they now have additional mandatory and optional online meetings on 2 of their 3 remote days, which of course are at different times for each child. My whiteboard is no longer big enough to hold both their daily schedules. 

It's exhausting.

I think it's helpful just to recognize how much harder we're all working. For me, as least, it helps to have an answer to the question of, "What's wrong with me?" And the answer is, of course, "Nothing's wrong with me; I'm just expending 3 or 4 times as much mental energy as I'm used to on simply getting through the day." It might not help everyone, but just knowing that I'm working hard and it's not reasonable to expect myself to feel the same way that I do when I'm not working this hard makes it easier for me to deal with.

I guess I'm writing all this not only to reassure myself but to reassure anyone else out there who's struggling right now: You're not crazy; life has gotten harder. And not always in ways that we can get used to. We've all found ways to cope and to work within the constrains of the "new normal," but that doesn't mean it isn't harder. It's a lot harder; more so for some of us than for others. But we're all struggling and we're all doing our best to manage. So let's also work harder to offer each other (and ourselves) a little grace and sympathy. It's a tough world out there. Let's try to make it a little easier for each other.