Life in the Upside Down

Repeat after me: This Is Not Normal.

Now, say it again: This Is Not Normal.

One more time for good measure: This Is Not Normal.

You guys. It’s been over four weeks since I started self-isolating/social distancing/beginning my final metamorphosis into a full-fledged cat lady. A whole month. On one hand, I can’t believe it’s already been a month. On the other, that month felt like a goddamn year.

Like everyone else, I’ve struggled to adjust to this alternate reality. Because that’s what it feels like. Like we’re living in some parallel universe where everything looks the same, but there are fewer people around because we’re all terrified, hiding from an evil force that’s really good at killing people and really hard to defeat.

Wait…that sounds familiar…

Yup. We’re living in the Upside Down, folks. And I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of becoming a Barb, so I will continue to stay the hell home until the next Eleven arrives to save us all. (Whose name will be Nineteen, obviously.) If you don’t know what I’m talking about, pull up Stranger Things on Netflix and commence binging immediately. No excuses: you’ve got all the time in the world right now.

Anyway, after trying to find my footing in this strange new world for the past four weeks, here are some of my key observations from Month 1, in absolutely no order whatsoever.

People are different. So are our coping mechanisms.

Everyone is handling the current reality differently. And as you’ve likely noticed in your own life, that can change day-to-day or even hour-to-hour. You may find yourself sobbing over a missing sock one moment, then dancing in the mirror with unabashed enthusiasm 15 minutes later. You could fly into a rage every time you see someone without a mask on, then watch John Krasinski’s Some Good News segment and feel like your faith in humanity has been restored.

The best explanation I’ve heard (from my therapist, as well as in this article) is that we are all grieving the loss of something – normalcy, routine, health, financial security, peace of mind, a social life…the list goes on. And everyone is going through the stages of grief in their own way, though not necessarily in the same order or on the same timeline. Which is perfectly normal.

What’s also perfectly normal – and really important to remember right now – is that everyone copes with grief and anxiety differently. For some people, it means eating your feelings. For others, the endorphin rush of a good workout does the trick. Some folks withdraw and just want to be left the hell alone with a good book or a Netflix binge. And there are those of us who turn to humor and crave human connection when we’re feeling blue because laughter is in fact great medicine.

So whether you’re an extrovert or an introvert…an optimist or a pessimist…some combination or none of the above…just remember that however you’re coping is okay.* And if people around you are coping differently, that’s okay too. Instead of telling me to smile, or rolling your eyes at someone whose spirits are up, maybe tap into your empathy and remember that different doesn’t mean wrong.

*As long as you’re not harming yourself or others. If you need help, resources are available here.

It’s ok to feel the way we feel.

I’ve also talked to a number of people who feel guilty about feeling down in the dumps. That other people have it “so much worse” and “we should be grateful for what we have.” Who says it has to be one or the other? Being sad and being grateful are not mutually exclusive.

I was struggling with this myself a couple weeks ago, when I started listening to Brené Brown’s new podcast. The first episode I pulled up tackled the topic of comparative suffering and her comments really resonated with me. Brown explains that the more we shame ourselves for our feelings, and the more we try to bury them (instead of feeling them), the more they grow, until we’re overwhelmed. And that doesn’t do anyone any good.

Here’s a link to the episode. I highly recommend listening to the whole 25 minutes (especially if you’re holed up with family members – she has some great advice for dealing with that), but the comparative suffering discussion begins about 15 minutes in.

Cats are weird.

Okay. If you know me at all, you know my two cats are my babies. My everything. My life is basically a running series of Crazy Cat Lady jokes that I often embrace, and other times find highly offensive. Good luck figuring that one out because I sure haven’t.

Anyway, as much as I love my girls, I have never spent this much time with them. I am single and live alone, so for the past month, they have been my sole companions. And that has been both a blessing and a curse…for all three of us. Some things I have learned about The Girls:

• Cleo (almost 9 years old, tabby, practically perfect in every way) sleeps for probably a good 22+ hours a day, usually on the back of my armchair. If I stick my face in her tummy fur when she’s fast asleep, she purrs. It’s the best.

• Calliope (6 years old, tortie, loud-mouthed, sassy snugglebug) is always bored. Always. She spends all day every day yelling at me to play with her. Real life footage of our daily routine:

• Cleo gets the zoomies every time she poops. Every. Single. Time.
• Calliope, who is about twice Cleo’s size, plays WAY too rough with her sister.

• Their obsession with my laptop is simultaneously adorable and annoying. Calliope has to “mark” both my laptop and my second monitor every day. Rubs her face/cheeks on it until she literally gags herself and I shove her off the table. <insert eyeroll emoji here>
• Cleo, on the other hand, will go to great lengths to get as close to the warmth of my ancient, overheating laptop as she possibly can. The slideshow below chronicles the The Great Laptop War of 2020, which began on March 16 and culminated in my hard-earned victory just yesterday.

These two may be nuts, but I’m really glad they’re here. They make me laugh so hard and are both phenomenal cuddlers. I can’t imagine doing this without them.

Podcasts are actually cool.

Confession time. Prior to my social isolation for Coronavirus, I had never listened to a podcast for more than a few minutes. I have always hated talk radio, and even audiobooks are hard for me. Podcasts were no different. If you know me well, this may come as a surprise to you.

As a Communications professional with a generally busy social life, I spend a lot of my time talking. I am the textbook definition of a “talker.” But sometimes, I need a break. So when I’m driving, or on the bus to/from work, or listening to something while I cook or do chores, I only ever play music. Life is all about balance, and this talker needs some chatter-free time too.

Well, now that I’m stuck at home with no one to talk to, things are decidedly different. I’m desperate for human connection and listening to someone else is suddenly comforting. It wasn’t something that I actively sought out. During Week 2 of my self-isolation, my friend asked me if he could interview me for his podcast documenting various experiences with social distancing and the Coronavirus. It turned out to be way less awkward and a lot more fun than I expected. The following week, I was having a hard time getting my friends to FaceTime with me – it felt like everyone was in a funk and no one wanted to chat (see earlier bit about grief and coping). Fortunately, that same week, Brené Brown (whose Ted Talks I love) announced the launch of her podcast.

I’ve been listening to her episodes while I eat my lunch and dinner on the patio, and it’s a practice I might just keep up after this is all over. Probably need to find some other podcasts to add to my library at some point.

So. Many. Goddamn. Dishes.

When it comes to chores, there is one I hate more than any of the others: doing the dishes. Which is unfortunate because I love to cook. And now that I eat exclusively at home now, I’m dirtying dishes at a superhuman rate. I run my dishwasher 2-3 times a week, and that’s for just one person!

And my kitchen has never been this consistently tidy. I usually let the hand-washables pile up until I begrudgingly have to take care of them a couple times a week. But now, I’m doing them every single day, just because I have nothing else to do. You guys. I can’t wait until I’m able to use my social life as an excuse to let the dishes pile up again.

Fresh air and sunshine can fix just about anything.

Thank goodness spring had already sprung in Sacramento when the stay-at-home order went into effect. Getting outside has been the single most effective way to clear my mind, pull myself out of a funk, burn off energy and tap into gratefulness.

Somehow, all this time cooped up inside makes everything outside so much more. The sky seems so much more blue. The grass and the trees more green. The air more clear. The breeze more brisk. The animals more active. The clouds more fluffy. Neighbors are more friendly, more considerate. Maybe it’s just the feeling of renewal that comes every spring. Or maybe this has made us all a bit more appreciative.

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FaceTime is getting less weird.

I’m an old soul when it comes to phone calls. I love talking on the phone, but I’ve been very slow to embrace video chatting. Partly because I have to worry about how I look (brushing my hair, making sure I’m fully clothed). And partly because I can’t multi-task quietly in the background while I talk to you.

When my brother moved to Germany last year, we started using Skype every week, which definitely helped me get more comfortable with video chatting. And once my best friend’s daughter got old enough to interact with me, FaceTime has become a regular thing for us too. Since the Stay Home orders began, I’d say about 95% of all my interactions with friends and family are now on FaceTime or Zoom. And I don’t really think twice about it anymore.

For work, we use Microsoft Teams, which has been a great tool to connect with each other while separated. My only real beef with this “new normal” is having to sit through meeting after meeting where some Boomer still can’t figure out how to mute/un-mute himself, and somehow it’s always someone else’s fault. No Gary, it’s not because you’re on a Mac. You see the button on the bottom of the screen with the microphone on it? No, not that one – that was your camera. Now we can’t see you or hear you. It’s the button next to that. Oh fuck it. Nevermind, Gary. Just call me on my cell.

I am so glad I don’t have kids.

As just noted, I love kids. Truly. The best part of this social distancing has been all the FaceTiming with my favorite kiddos. But over the past couple of years, I’ve finally admitted to myself (and to others) that I don’t want my own kids. I love being an aunt, but I have no desire to be a parent.

Seeing what parents are going through right now…has pretty much solidified that for me. MAJOR kudos and my deepest respect and appreciation to all the moms, dads and guardians who have suddenly found themselves parenting, teaching and working full time. I can’t even imagine what that’s like. And selfishly, I’m really glad it’s not me.

I’m here if you need a virtual happy hour. Or if you need an aunt to entertain your kids for 20 minutes while you throw back a few shots of tequila. Either way. No judgement.

Teleworking is harder than I expected.

I’m one of those fortunate enough to have a secure job that I can (mostly) do from home. My department sent us home on March 16, and it sounds like we may be here until late May, even June.

At first, teleworking seemed like it would be easy. No distractions. No need to walk across the building for a meeting. No commute. And after a couple of weeks, I was able to access my documents and work computer remotely. Easy peasy, right? Nope.

I’ve discovered I have a very hard time focusing on work when I’m at home. Part of this is general anxiety about the pandemic – it’s very hard to focus on writing one thing when your brain won’t let go of another. The other part is that while there are no conversations to tune out, or people popping in and out of my cubicle, I do get easily distracted at home. The cats always want attention. Being alone, I have major FOMO, so I’m always checking social media or responding immediately to text messages. There’s always a chore to do, something to clean. The garden to water. Sitting down and actually being productive for the better part of a day seems impossible.

Last week, I finally admitted as much to my therapist. Turns out, it’s not just me – a lot of people are dealing with the same thing. As usual, she had a strategy in mind and gave me some homework this week. I can’t decide if it’s working or not quite yet, so I’ll have to report back.

The only three words that really matter: Tumble Dry Low.

You guys. While I hate social distancing, I am not mad about the dress code. I always dress professionally for work, and I do enjoy getting dressed up for a special occasion once in a while, but honestly, I am in my element right now.

Normally, when I get home from work, I do three things immediately, in this exact order:

1. Take off my shoes.
2. Swap my work clothes for sweatpants and a t-shirt.
3. Lose the bra.

I know for a fact that I am not the only woman who does this. And while I’ve talked to several people who say getting dressed for work like they normally would helps them focus at home, I do not share the sentiment. It’s much easier for me to focus on work when I’m not constantly cursing my pants for chewing on my fat roll every time I sit down. If this really is the apocalypse, and I’m going to die alone, it had better be in elastic-waist pants and a wireless bra.

There are things I’m going to miss when this is all over.

So here’s the thing. I really hate social distancing. I miss my friends. I’m worried I won’t be able to visit my family this summer. I haven’t had a hug in a month. I hate that I can’t touch anything in the grocery store unless I’m going to buy it. I’m tired of getting angry or nervous every time someone gets too close. It’s a shitty way to live.

That being said, for all the cons of social distancing and self-isolation, there are some pros too. There are quite a few things I’m going to miss when this is all over:

• An extra 30 minutes of sleep, plus morning meditation and fresh breakfast. No commute means more time for self-care.
• Living my best life in the aforementioned comfy clothes 24/7.
• Getting all this quality time with my cats.
• Catching up with friends and family who are usually too busy to check in regularly.
• Lunchtime workouts on my patio. I don’t have to worry about making myself presentable afterward, so I can get as sweaty as I want. Plus, it frees up my evenings for a nice walk outside.
• Saving money. As much as I miss going out with friends, my bank account doesn’t mind at all.
• Having a really clean apartment. I washed my curtains the other day. Because I was out of other things to clean.
• Having no concept of time whatsoever and no longer worrying about being late or early for anything other than a work call.

At some point, this will pass. We’ll find our way out of the Upside Down and we’ll “go back to normal,” whatever that looks like. I hope we, as individuals and as a society, are able to learn from this experience. Maybe use the perspective we’ve gained to make sure some things don’t go back to the way they were before this happened. Just a thought.

Now back to today’s episode of Stranger Things, in which Steve is a 50-something-year-old CEO of a hair product line who can’t figure out how Zoom works, and Eleven is homeschooling her kids on how to do the dishes with their minds.