All posts tagged: coronavirus

One Day at a Time

Being out of work with literally nowhere to go has been a strange series of highs and lows. In the first few days, I was trying too hard to be productive, starting a laundry list of life improving habits to make the most of my new windfall of time. I wasn’t taking time to process the life altering events occurring around me. This led to a lot of irrational frustration with my inability to essentially, feel better. “I’m eating carrots, why am I still feeling stressed out?” is an example of how ridiculous I was getting. After reading a number of articles by various mental health experts, I decided I needed to give myself a break. I spent a week binging TV, eating Oreos, and mourning the end of life as I knew it. I paused myself. By the next Monday, I was ready to ease back into a productive routine of writing, exercising, and finishing existing projects around my house. I started some free online courses. I still watch a lot of TV. Today …

The Thing About Being Essential

I’ve worked for the same company for over ten years. Like anything you do for ten years can, my job has slowly started to feel more like a rut then a routine over the last few years. Watching more and more responsibilities be added to my job description as I move from being an admin to a manager, while remaining an hourly employee, has been frustrating. It has left me and others in my position feeling terribly under appreciated, like we are expendable workers. Couldn’t our company acknowledge that we working in the field are indispensable to their operations? Well, you know what they say. Be careful what you wish for. Who would have thought being deemed essential would look like this. Wearing a mask and rubber gloves at work, arming my car with Lysol wipes so I can clean my shoes before I return home, sterilizing the laundry basket designated for my work clothes. Researching how to avoid cross contamination, because my employer gave me a bag of latex gloves but no process for …

Checking In

Originally posted on Parhelion:
By Rebecca Moon Ruark The osprey came back. They came back, like they do each Spring, to perch where they will, high above the marine yard, atop the athletic field light poles, and in the stern of an abandoned sailboat on the river. The osprey own that boat now; it will never again sail the Bay, but the osprey don’t care. I have secretly loathed my fish hawk neighbors, for their shrieking cries that wake me before five in the morning. But I’m happy for them now, happy they’re keeping to their seasonal schedule of migration and procreation. Social media is speculating how many people babies will come from COVID-19-induced isolation. I can’t say, but there will be osprey babies again next year, screeching things that will draw graceful arcs in the sky like their parents and grandparents, before. They will protect their own, hunt, eat, and probably never experience ennui. The osprey came back, as did the daffodils, which I once thought of as only cheap harbingers of tulips, my…