Proof

By Susan Connelly – October 12, 2022

Today I was all up in my feelings, stuck in a troubled headspace exacerbated by a compromised health space, having late last week ended my two and a half year streak of being Covid-free with the emergence of that dastardly subversive second line on the rapid test stick. Isolation has not been my (mind's) friend. I miss hugging my kids and sleeping in the same bed with my husband. I want to be able to smell again and taste food without that weird Covid amplification effect that seems to dull certain categories of taste like sweet and salty but magnify others (sour, bitter). This weekend I Lasso'ed and Abbott'ed and Morning Show'ed my way through the hours until my eyes blurred with exhaustion and my lower back screamed in protest demanding my sedentary state cease and desist at once. And that's the least of it.

Early on in my isolation my friend Joann texted:

Joann: "Checking in!" Me: "Going stir crazy. Assessing my life. Good times!"

For someone prone to persistent self-introspection on a normal day, six days of time alone with only one’s thoughts, thoughts and more thoughts does not a sane (or happy) woman make. By the time I groggily strapped on my mask and stumbled out of my “hot zone” bedroom this morning I had logged already 120+ hours of house-bound isolation and with it, more than enough data points gathered from a multi-day, full spectrum life assessment to determine without reservation the obvious conclusion that I am failing universally as a human. Period. End of story. The coach/friend/mom/normal-day-Susan in me knows this is utter BS and the talk of a crazy person but real talk, that girl wasn't the one in the driver's seat this morning. Instead the version of me who formerly boasted with both self-deprecation and pride that I could teach a Master's Class in "How to Kick My Own Ass and Feel Terrible About It" had the wheel and she wasn’t letting go. I could have let it end there, returning to bed after my masked-up morning carpool runs, settling in for <another> day of toggling between streamed shows and network shows, drifting in and out of sleep until being called back into service at 3 pm for the afternoon pickups, all the while feeling guilt and shame. But I didn't.

Today I fought the pull of isolation and the feeling of unworthiness and instead sought connection. Instead of tuning out... Instead of numbing... Instead of staying alone in <my> head, in <my> feelings... I texted a dear friend whose daughter was celebrating her 17th birthday and told my friend what a beautiful kind daughter she had raised and that the world is a better place because her daughter is in it (because it is). I drafted a follow up/check-in letter to an employer with whom I recently had been offered a position but had turned down. I gave myself permission to honor the instinct to write the draft but also to let it breathe for a couple days until I decide what is the next right step.

I scheduled an exploratory session with a coach because sometimes even the best coaches have blind spots and can't coach themselves out of stuck-ness. I reached out to a friend and asked for help on a project I've been trying to launch for years and was met with excited interest and a date on the calendar to get started. I messaged another friend who has been on my heart and that message led to not one but two phone calls; one with the friend I messaged and one with a friend we share in common. Each call lasted over 30 minutes and in them I allowed myself to breathe and relax into connection and be seen as I am right now. I spoke honestly about regret for not being in better touch and was rewarded with warm and easy graciousness and the reminder that the best of friends meet you where you are, as you are, no matter how much time has passed.

It was a GOOD day and it hadn't seemed it would be that way at the start. All of which has me thinking that sometimes, when we think we're the most desperate, most unlovable, most unworthy-of-connection versions of ourselves, maybe, instead of caving in to that story we should first look for proof. ≈======

© Susan J. Connelly, 2022. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this work’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan J. Connelly with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.