Darkest Before Dawn

There’s a well-known phrase that states, “it’s always darkest before the dawn” which can be interpreted as meaning that things always seem their worst before they start to improve. It’s been a tough week. My sister and another close friend are on the front lines of the Covid crisis. Since it began, they’ve done an incredible job at keeping the residents of the long-term care facility they work at safe and Covid free but unfortunately this week the virus found a way in and now they are dealing with a severe outbreak among both residents and staff. There has been severe sickness. There has been death. It is a horrible situation, and they are both under enormous pressure and enormous stress. I know they aren’t the only ones out there living and breathing this virus, but they are the ones, especially my sister, that I communicate with daily.

It’s taking its toll. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I’m not sure how much more they can take. As a bystander, I feel completely helpless and useless. I do what I can to support my sister and send as much love and understanding as I can but it’s nothing really. There is nothing tangible I can do to help her and all the others on the front lines fighting this except follow the guidelines, wear my mask, wash my hands and stay the hell home as much as I can. Don’t negate how hard it is to be someone on the outside having to watch your loved ones battle through these tough, horrific times day after day. It’s a helpless feeling. And if that’s you, then my heart is with you and your family.

My patience and tolerance for those who believe Covid is “Fake News” or that this is all about government control or Bill Gates trying to insert a micro chip up your ass is wearing extremely thin. I’m by no means a confrontational person but this week I’ve found myself typing responses to ridiculously ignorant social media posts and then just deleting them before I posted. It just wasn’t worth the hassle and getting into an argument with someone who received their medical degree from a YouTube video. For my own mental health, I just stopped logging on to Facebook mid-week.

Then the insurrection at the United States Capital happened on the 6th and it was like holy shit, what is happening in this world? I found myself glued to the news channels for the next couple of days, to get as much information as I could, just trying to make sense of it all. By Friday afternoon, I knew I had to turn the television off. I needed a break from “Breaking News” and “Covid Updates”. I could feel myself spiralling into a sullen mood, and I knew I had to be proactive and shut that shit down. My sister has enough on her plate without having to worry about me feeling down; she worries enough about me being all alone during this lockdown. I had to get it together and change it up right away.

I turned off the tv, bundled up in my winter gear and went for a walk. I’m a little old school in that I prefer the old fashioned over the head, headphones. Ear buds just plain hurt my ears, and I think there’s some crazy restriction about how loud they can go. With my big parka, wraparound sunglasses (to keep the wind out of my eyes) and then my headphones underneath my toque, I looked damn styling. Ignoring the volume control warning on my phone, I turned that bitch up as loud as I could stand it. The air was crisp and cold, but the late afternoon sun was still shinning. A perfect January day.

I have a few routes I normally take, and a few variations on each of those, mainly so the neighbourhood doesn’t think I’m a stalker always walking past their house. For some reason, I took a left when I usually take a right, and I ended up back in a neighbourhood that I normally only visit in the warmer months when I’m out for a super long walk. I think my brain was subconsciously telling me that a short walk wasn’t going to cut it today, I needed a marathon walk to infuse as much cold fresh air as possible into my brain and knock out the negativity and sadness that was brewing. I knew I’d probably need Bob the Builder and his forklift to come help haul me out of bed the next morning, ‘cause let’s face it, these old joints and gams don’t quite rebound like they used to, especially after a spontaneous, get right to it, two-hour “training like I’m in the army now” march. There wasn’t going to be anything leisurely about this walk. I needed a kick in the ass and absent of anyone there to actually kick me in the ass, I had to improvise and do it myself.

It only took about five minutes for the endorphins to start pumping their magic through my system, and with each step, I could feel the tension of the past week begin to lessen. Music helps. Music always helps. I’d put on a new, random playlist, so hearing each new song come on was a little bit like Christmas morning. And of course, with each new song and each new beat, I have to tailor my walk to keep that beat. It’s just a given. I’m pretty sure people driving by thought I was having a seizure when I was listening to some funky Prince, and I was quite proud of myself for nailing the beat flexing each butt cheek up and down as I was standing at the corner waiting for the light to change. By the time angry 90s girl Alanis Morrisette came on, I was in full bad ass, “do NOT F**k with me” strut mode, arms flailing and head bobbing. Thank God it was dark by then and I was more inconspicuous. There was a good chance I might have been arrested for badassery on the streets.

A huge grin plastered my face as I walked past the gully where us girls used to go before high school dances and chug bottles of Blue Nun and Wildberry coolers, burying the empties in the brush of the ravine, because ten preppy 80s girls tripping up the banks of a ravine killing themselves laughing wasn’t suspicious at all. Good times. Good times.

Good times. We have to remember them to get ourselves through these dark days right now. I don’t know what to do. I feel guilty for even laughing a little when so many people are hurting and literally fighting to save lives or for their own life. I’m not sure if I attempt to write a humourous or a “feel good” post if it will be perceived as me not caring or empathizing with the pain of others? I’m really struggling what my role is right now and what I can do to help and support others, especially those I love and am close to. And I know in order to do that, I have to be as strong as healthy as I can be, in all aspects of my life, so that will be my job. I will take care of myself, so that I can be there for others.

These are trying, terrible times, and there is no one right way to react or deal with what is happening. I wish I had the answers or some magical words to make it all go away. I could throw you a bunch of inspirational or motivational quotes, and maybe that would help for a minute, but we need more than that. We need to lean on those in our circle and not be afraid to ask or accept help in any capacity. We need to know in our hearts that someday, this will be over.

I have a hard time not feeling the pain of others, I really do, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing necessarily, it’s just something I have to watch to protect my own well-being. I hit a point this week where it would have been very easy for me to slide backward and topple my bucket of sunshine that I’ve worked so hard this past month to replenish. I can’t let that happen. Not for me, not for my sister.

So, what can I do? Well, I can continue to go for walks and get as much exercise as I can because I know for me, it is paramount to my well-being. I can stay off social media as much as possible because so many comments only fuel my frustrations with people. I can make sure I’m eating and doing simple things like my dishes and cleaning up my space. When I do talk to my sister for those few minutes at night before she crashes in bed, I can be supportive and just be myself, try and make her laugh, and not continually talk about what’s going on. I think when she gets home, she just wants a few minutes of normalcy from the chaos that she’s engulfed with all day long.

There’s an African proverb that says, “However long the night, the dawn will break.” Well anytime this night, you know, wants to wrap it up and break the dawn, I think we’d all be much obliged. The world is tired. You are tired. I am tired. I hope that dawn breaks before we do.

In the meantime, I hope it’s okay that I keep writing these trivial little posts about life and inspiration and hope. You don’t have to read them but it’s something I need to do to help keep my own sanity. And if maybe one little thing resonates or I get you to crack a smile or maybe even laugh, then I’ll feel like maybe I am helping in some small way to ease the pain and get people through, and that will make me happy, which will in turn give me energy that I can directly focus on those closest to me – a big circle of love.

And some of that energy you send I’m using right now to practice my rendition of “Tomorrow” from the Broadway musical Annie that I’m going to perform for my sister over Skype tonight when she get’s home from work. I know she’s going to LOVE it!

“The sun’ll come out, Tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be sun!

Just thinkin’ about, Tomorrow. Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow, ‘Til there’s none!

When I’m stuck a day, that’s gray, and lonely. I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say, Oh

The sun’ll come out, Tomorrow. So you gotta hang on ‘Til tomorrow. Come what may

Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya Tomorrow! You’re always a day away!”

The sun will come out my friends, we’ve just got to hang on as best we can.

Until next week…

Peace and love to you all. We can do this.

Trish