The Edge

“Don’t push us cause we’re close to the edge. We’re trying not to lose our heads, hahahaha.” 

First, big ups to Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five back in 1982 for describing a general vibe that, similarly and differently, so many of us are still feeling at this moment in time, exactly 40 years later. 

(“It’s like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder 

How I keep from going under, 

How I keep from going under”).  

And, also, three cheers to Puff Daddy (Puffy, Diddy, P.Diddy… you know the one) and Mase for introducing me to the hook and the lyric in 1997 (“Can’t nobody hooold me down, oh no, I got to keep on movin…”)

Sigh. 

So. Quick poll:  Is it safe to say that we are all close to the edge?  Still?  Again?  On the carousel of craziness that keeps changing with the waves and variants going round and round… coming out of hiding, living again, then going under once more. On repeat. No longer caring. Caring so much it hurts. Worrying. Avoiding. Hiding. Re-emerging. Sheer exhaustion from simply having conversations about Covid. 

So much is out of our control. I feel like most days during the last few years, and again extra so these last few weeks, my text inbox is flooded with updates from family and friends…. This person has Covid. Yes, the one we both just saw last week. That family member tested positive. And had to cancel their second planned trip (the first which was also cancelled because another member of that family had Covid). Looks like another birthday in quarantine (last year, a few family members were positive and, surprise surprise, one year later, they’re all positive again). This son came home with a temperature… outdoor play date is off… stay tuned. This friend’s dad is being rushed to the hospital. That mom’s cancer treatment is tomorrow. This friend’s sister is awaiting important results. Surgeries scheduled. Surgeries delayed. School district issues being battled. Classes quarantined. Mistakes about which children to quarantine when seating arrangements are different than the lists the bus company had, requiring video surveillance footage to be reviewed to edit who stays home and who goes to school. (Yes, apparently that actually happens.  Or at least it did to us).  News stories with headlines that make your heart skip a beat. Things are better. Things are worse. This insane thing actually happened. That terrifying thing is still happening. This outrageous thing might happen. That wonderful thing may never happen.  

So many huge-deal things have flooded our mental space that, not surprisingly, our brains can no longer hold all of it. I noticed in a recent conversation with a dear friend when we were reminiscing about some of the more epic difficult things that had transpired over the past few weeks and months… our recent past… and both of us had absolutely forgotten that several of the super-duper-big-deal stuff had even happened…to us… because the daily deluge is just too great to hold every single thing. But… shocking things that would seem impressive enough to indelibly imprint in our memory banks….have been let go. They have to. For us to function. There’s too much being stored in our minds that is flagged in blinking red lights that our eyesight is beginning to fail. 

I noticed today, too, that when we are in waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop mode… some of us busy ourselves. Controlling that which we can control in this sea of question marks and wait-and-see and impending diagnoses and concerns of failing health in our aging parents and Covid exposure timelines. A good friend, over the course of the last week, has taken near 20,000 steps daily, purging cupboards and cabinets and basements and attics and garages and drawers. Donating an impressive amount of home goods and clothes and tossing dumpster-amounts of stuff. Labeling bins. Re-doing the giant master family calendar and color-coding every inch of it. All while waiting for the call about a family member’s health. 

Others hide. Putting off anything that must be done and sending it to the back of the line, instead spending their time avoiding the to-do list. Sitting with their feelings.  Surrendering to the quiet. The hard.  Staring the tasks right in the face and ignoring them. Double birds.  Going underwater and letting the giant waves crash over their heads. Only coming up for sips of air when absolutely necessary before letting the cerulean swirls of silence encircle them. All while waiting for the health update from a loved one. 

And yet others distract. Filling their calendars and moments of down time with meetings and meetups and roles on boards and round tables and lunch dates and coffee dates and phone calls. Social media. Mindless scrolling. Infinite Netflix queues. Pouring a second glass of wine. Focusing on anything but what actually is. Penciling in noise to drown out whatever might come in the silence. It’s too scary to consider… so best to busy oneself with sound and responsibilities and classes and volunteer opportunities and sports and coaching and extra tasks to fill and stuff… sort of like pouring endless packing peanuts into a box.  Filling it right to the tippy top and pushing it down hard so our hearts can be encased and held extra tight, safe and secure. To be shipped away, overseas and far away, and dealt with…some other time. All while waiting for the appointment date to finally come. 

There’s no one right way to be. To exist. To deal with things right now. Never in our history have we lived in a time such as this. True, too, people my age have never brushed elbows with The Spanish Flu or The Great Depression or World Wars. With every year and decade that passes, our world is so different from that which came before. Never have people had to parent in the 2020’s during a global pandemic. Kids physically transforming and experiencing the rollercoaster ride of puberty in the privacy of their own bedrooms while remote learning… only to emerge months later a foot taller, new baby mustaches, pimples, and voices a few octaves lower. Never have parents had to wrestle with the benefits and issues that come with social media… the discernment of its value versus its potential for harm, the timing of the introduction of it and then the inclusion/exclusion that are simply part and parcel with it. Growth. At every age. Major life skills… learning to crawl and walk and read… all in hiding… until these babies and toddlers and preschoolers and kindergartners were released and grandparents and friends could finally see with their own eyes all of the evolving that had happened in person, instead of texted videos. Proms missed. Trips cancelled. Graduations held virtually. Managing fears and anxieties in our children, big and small. Whether or not they have the language capacities to share their concerns and worries or if they can only muster a temper tantrum…. each day they are processing the changes that come and the uncertainty of just being alive right now, endlessly asking if this plan we waited so long to finally make will probably be cancelled (too… like everything else). And whether or not they are old enough to read headlines or overhear news updates… the panic finds a way to insidiously wiggle right into their little hear-everything ears and through their wide endlessly-searching eyes to stake a hold on their little minds. It can be exhausting. For our children. For us. For our spouses. For our parents. For our friends. 

We are all so tired. 

Close to the edge. 

We (really are) trying not to lose our heads. 
Hahahaha.

If you’re reading this with praise hands like amen, sister!! Just know that  I see you. I am raising my coffee mug right back to you. And reminding you that you’re not alone. The other shoe will drop. Or maybe it won’t. And either way, we’ll all be okay. ❤️

Really we will. 

The news articles I’m reading the last few days seem to say, at least in the northeast of America, that the Omicron wave may have reached its peak and that hopefully, we are on the downslope. I know that is not so for other parts of the country or world… but I am encouraged, and I will take it!  So long as another variant doesn’t come behind this one… maybe we will someday soon reach the endemic phase?  I have hope again for the first time in a bit and am praying that we may have hit our edge…but that, along with these incrementally longer days (and despite frigid temperatures) that perhaps things are looking up. Stay strong out there, friends. Maybe we have to find our edge to know the depth of our strength.