The Next Thing
It’s 7am when I open my eyes. I lay there for a few precious moments enjoying the sun in the window and appreciating past-me for my decision to purchase an alternative down comforter six months ago. Then, I pick up my phone and it all falls away.
I do what I always do and check my email first. Promising national vaccine news is overshadowed by the news from across the globe of vaccine shortages and countries who still have yet to receive a single dose. Borders open and close again, and some, like the simple one to Canada -- who could imagine a closed Canadian border? -- remain closed after a full year and a half. Sure, there’s plenty of happiness as states like California join many others in the Great Unmasking, but still, there’s plenty to overwhelm the mind.
Next, I go to Facebook. There The New York Times, The Atlantic, and Al Jazeera English fight for prominence in my newsfeed. In the early days of the pandemic, my mind nearly shut down every time I opened the apps. Even now, in my vaccinated and newly more hopeful body, I can feel my jaw tightening and the sweat rising on my palms as I relive the worst days of my own pandemic experience. I put my phone down, turn on the do not disturb setting to block out the world, and hide under my comforter.
For somewhere between 15-45 minutes, I lay there, trying to recover the sense of peace I woke up with.
Even on the days I skip the phone portion of this morning ritual, I don’t escape this slump. At some point in between waking up and getting up, something happens to remind me that the world has utterly changed.
In the early days of lockdown, this trigger was the extreme silence outside my window. I never noticed the noise of the morning commute until it was gone. Now, the realization hits me when I begin to think through my day. Pre-quarantine I spent my mornings in coffee shops where I could get a little extra work done away from home. Now, the urge, and even the real ability, to return to a new, COVID-safe version of this routine is simply a reminder of a changed reality; some days a desperate ache for a small, lost joy.
It’s this sense of loss that keeps me under the comforter too long in the morning. The world as we once knew it is gone, and the one we are getting back is far different from its former self. This sense is familiar to everyone now, and it’s not unlike other losses. Sleep lets us forget for a moment, but when we wake up we have to grapple with the absence all over again.
So what do I do to finally pull myself out of bed and into the day? All I can do, all any of us can do, is the very next thing. To get there, I rely on a simple tool: a mental list.
I don’t mean my to do list for the day, or a gratitude list, or anything elaborate. My list is tiny, but it has grown into a simple ritual to begin my day. It consists of each little step and movement I have to take to get through the next fifteen minutes. It usually looks something like this:
Take out ear plugs
Remove wrist brace
Throw back covers
Step out of bed
Open the dog crate
Receive excessive gratitude from pup in form of kisses
Get dog into harness and leash (she’s still a puppy, this is not always easy!)
Take dog outside
Let dog loose to play inside
Start water for coffee
Usually by the time I start thinking about coffee, I can convince myself to move. Always, by the time my sweet, little pup wags her tail for attention, I’m feeling just a bit better about my day.
This list doesn’t help me process the news. It doesn’t help me plan my day. It doesn’t even get me clean in the morning. But it does get me up and in a slightly better place to face a new, complicated reality. From behind a steaming mug of coffee, with my pup at my side, I can face the consequences of loss and do the very next thing.