Nothing is Normal

"Why do you put your makeup on every day? It's not like you can go anywhere."

I can't. I can't go anywhere. I sit in my house and wait for the corona virus epidemic to run it's course. Bars are closed, Stores are closed.

Trapped. That's the word that comes to mind.

Trapped in my own house.

I don't get to go to work in the morning even though I finally found a job that I love to go to. Because I deal with the public. Because I work in the food industry.

Nothing is normal.

Because my three year old, who I'm supposed to be home schooling is asking me on repeat why she can't go to daycare and see her friends. Because how do I explain to a three year old why we can't even go to the park on sunny days anymore.

"The world is sick, baby and we have to stay away from places like the park until it gets better."

But she doesn't understand. There is no explanation of this for a three year old and even if there was I wouldn't want to explain it to her.

So I stay home and try. I try to help her learn, I try to make things fun. I try to think up activity after activity to keep her entertained so that she isn't thinking of the friends and even family that she misses.

Because even though Grandma Mary lives down the street from us, she just came back from Florida and was on a plane. And I had to go to Walmart for groceries the other day so we sit longer in quarantine.

And then when the days are getting long and my patience are getting thin I hate myself a little when I yell. Every time I yell, even when she maybe deserves a timeout- I feel bad putting her there because we're basically already in a timeout. Am I a bad mom for just punishing her more?

Nothing is normal.

I go through each day and text and call my family; making sure, on our opposite states of the country, that they are okay and safe in their houses.

We update each other on new precautions taken in each state and it's so weird to hear that they're putting up road blocks in places.

My stomach turns in knots thinking about my dad, who flies about twice a month and all the germs he has been exposed to and I thank him every time we're on the phone for not flying anymore...

...even though I want to just beg him to come stay with us... but I know that's not the responsible thing to do. So I keep my mouth shut and tell him to stay safe.

Nothing is normal.

My sister in Virginia texts me about how hard it is to not be able to take her two kids out to play at the park and I sympathize with her.

She tells me about how her state is on stay at home orders until June 10th and I know somewhere in my heart that she won't make it out for the wedding shower on June 5th- even though she tells me to stay hopeful and pray.

And I do pray. I'm silently thankful because her health scares me more than anyone as she battles cancer right now. The thought of her even going to an airport almost sends me into a panic attack - but that isn't fair.

She is strong. She is healthy. I could never tell her not to come. Not that she would listen anyway- she's as stubborn as I am, in the best way.

So I thank God a little bit that she might not be allowed to while also praying that this whole thing gets better in time for her to visit.

Because through it all, I still miss my big sister.

Nothing is normal.

I feel selfish as I cry trying to plan my wedding that I'm not sure will happen on the day we picked because Lord only knows when this will end.

I feel worse because everyone else is going through the same thing - if not worse right now.

I count my blessings:

• As of now, my wedding is still on.
• I have a safe place to be.
• My fiancee is still working, and not with the public.
• We have food.
• Our bills will get paid, even though money will be tight.
• Everyone we know is healthy right now.
• Things will go back to normal eventually.

I repeat those last two. Everyone I know is healthy right now and things will go back to normal eventually.

Nothing is normal.

I worry as my little sister tells me about working the front lines as a nurse. I know she can't tell us everything.

I worry about the limited face-masks that they are reusing. I worry because even if she can't tell me; I have some idea of the number of cases in her area.

I hate myself because we've been telling each other we'll make plans for months- and haven't. Now that I have the time, I can't see her.

It's the slap in the face I didn't expect.

We're not as close as we've been in the past. but every time we talk we pick up right where we left off... and I worry.

I worry because I hear about her long hours, and the lack of supplies, and the stress. I worry even though I know she's been through hell before. She's strong. But I worry.

Nothing is normal.

I go out once a week and find a reason to start my car so that it doesn't sit for too long.

I repainted our entire bathroom using paints we had in the garage.

I started a full blown argument over a word used in Scattergories.

I tell myself that staying in is the best and safest thing to do for everyone involved and I know that.

Wash your hands. Stay inside.

It's the fastest way to stop it from spreading. I don't want to see it spread. I can name eight people off the top of my head with compromised immune systems.

I remind myself that it's hard but it's worth it. It's worth it because I don't want to stand at their funerals. I don't see them, because I love them.

Nothing is normal.

Reminding myself that I am not the only one having trouble, that I'm not the person who has it the hardest right now - is now part of my daily routine.

Nothing is normal.

But every time I remind myself of this - I hate myself a little more for hating myself. For taking this lock down so hard.

I know that I'm not doing well. I realize that. It's hard to find the motivation to do normal things like wake up at a normal hour and eat regular meals.

But I'm trying.

I wake up and I try.

I made one of those motivational signs that you see people putting in their windows and on the sidewalks and maybe I did it mostly for me.

But I'm trying.

I get dressed everyday even though I know there's a 98% chance I won't step foot outside unless I'm taking out the trash or grabbing the mail.

But I'm trying.

I work with my daughter and plaster a smile on my face and try my hardest not to yell or cry even though the world feels like it's melting around us in our bubble of a house.

But I'm trying.

I put my daughter to bed every night, usually with assistance because I'm worn out at that point and I ask her to say prayers with me even though I'm questioning my faith.

But I'm trying.

So I get up everyday- every. single. goddamn day. and I put on my makeup just so that I can have those two minutes to try to make everything feel normal.

"Why do you put on makeup everyday? It's not like you can go anywhere."

Because nothing is normal.

But I'm trying.