Long time no read
You probably thought my newsletter was defunct by this point. But no, here I am! Whether this post is the first of many, however, remains to be seen. I did try to write a few posts in the past year. Unfortunately, none of them made it past the draft stage and, given how time-sensitive my writing tends to be, publishing them now would require some effort.
Anyway, why am I writing today? I feel a bit sad, I have time on my hands and I don’t feel so absolutely shattered by parenthood that the thought of writing makes me want to bury my head under a pillow.
Writing has from a very young age been my go-to whenever I’ve felt sad or angry. I’m pretty sure I’ve written about happy feelings too, but more often than not it’s been a way for me to work through whatever is bothering me and vent if I needed to. Side note: I should probably destroy my diaries at some point because I don’t want anyone reading what is probably best described as an emotional trash fire.
Over the years, I’ve added other ways of coping with difficult feelings, one of them being exercise, but that’s a sore point for me right now. As some of you know, I’ve been struggling with knee pain for over a year now (and I’m getting help so this is not a cry for help) but the fact of the matter is: today my knee is hurting so I can’t get on the bike, put on some loud dance music and flush it all out of my system.
There’s also another reason why exercise is not really an option today and that’s because I feel a bit sick. Tom and I are both recovering from something. We’re not sure what, but it most likely came from Paul’s nursery. That wouldn’t be such a big deal normally, but this bug is the latest in a string of illnesses that started three weeks ago with Tom and myself coming down with Covid.
The irony of it all is that the week before we all got sick was a great week. One of those weeks that feels really special because it’s full of big events that stand out in the course of every day life.
I handed in my notice at work on the Tuesday.
I went out to a concert (a concert!!) for the first time since pre-baby and pre-pandemic times on the Thursday. What concert, you ask? Nothing less than the Backstreet Boys, baby!! Yes, I used to be embarrassed about admitting that I was a big fan of Backstreet growing up—we’re talking pre-teen Alicia mainly—but now I own it happily. Listening and singing along to their songs continues to bring me joy.
Tom and I went out for dinner and stayed out past 9 pm for the first time since Paul was born on the Saturday.
And on Sunday… the first Covid symptoms reared their ugly head.
It’s funny how powerful writing is. As I was writing about those happy moments, I started smiling. I can already feel the veil of self-pity lifting.
And as it lifts, I start to notice that despite how trying the last few weeks have been, there have been pockets of happiness too. Some obvious, like a neighbour coming over for a glass of wine after both our kids went to sleep (also a first!); some less so, like the gratitude for being in this together with Tom, when we’re both sick and having to take turns lying down while the other plays with Paul.
Take care,
Alicia