Deciding Not to Fear or Hate Every New Day

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Deciding Not to Fear or Hate Every New Day

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It can be hard to fall asleep when you fear or hate tomorrow.

Looking back on these past days, weeks, and months, there have been times when it was hard to fall asleep. Still, I’m amazed that most of my “tomorrows” have been exciting, filled with (a few) people I love, and promising something new. to have this. In light of news-worthy narratives, I feel amazingly blessed.

That’s not to say I didn’t have to adapt.

“You can’t come into work, and I don’t know when you will be able to, and I don’t know when you can be safe, and I…” But it wasn’t me I was worried about as my (former) boss rambled on. I was young. I didn’t have a family to support. In that moment, it didn’t matter that I lost my longed-for position at the archives of my alma mater; my life hadn’t been going as planned for a while.

The truth of the matter was that in that moment, I was loved by my house-mates, I had enough food, I had enough in savings. Payments could wait just long enough. And, somehow, it was just enough. I was immediately able to work in part and serve in whole as a nanny and tutor for an essential-worker’s family.

With more open time and open space, calls with my Nonni and Zoom calls with other family members let my heart open up the folded, selfish areas that I had lustfully kept to myself. I had to - no, got to - make the rest of my time proactive. Practice French. Take on contracted research. Learn dance choreography, teach salsa lessons virtually, and take a few risky health situations seriously.

Every day of this worldwide crisis promises more ways - or perhaps dares me? - to live more richly. Life becomes more about each day and each human, and less about my time and my goals and my inadequacies.

UNPOPULAR SENTIMENT: I don’t care about the pandemic, I really don’t. Not personally, at least. In love, I will absolutely wear masks and socially distance and refrain from travelling, but for me, life is meant to be lived in each precious, terminal breath, and I am not promised to be given security, health, love, passion, joy, and peace. It is in this loud silence that has descended on the globe, I’ve been able to love the unloved, serve the neglected, and deepen my empathy for those with whose background is different than mine.

My keenest struggle is “home.” In the lessening of physical relationships, a yearning for a home even truer than my space and my people continues to grow in me. A “home” that embraces my soul, where I can work, thrive, and rest. The less I care one-dimensionally about success or failure, and the more I care for people, the keener this desire becomes.

I don’t know when that will be fulfilled, but I have hope. Hope enough that I won’t always fear or hate tomorrow that I can’t fall asleep.

Although of late, the origins of falling asleep typically lie in chocolate… It’s hard refusing those red-wrapped cocoa velvet symphonies!
Picture of my hectic, flexible planner while I nanny/tutored kids with specific learning needs. No one day was ever repeated!

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This item was submitted on October 30, 2020 by [anonymous user] using the form “Share Your Story” on the site “A Journal of the Plague Year”:

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