I am slowly going crazy. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Switch.
Crazy going slowly am I. 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Switch.
(Remember that ‘song’ from summer camp or school bus trips? Awful. Gets stuck in my head immediately upon hearing it. You’re welcome.)
What day is it?
Seriously: WHAT DAY IS IT?
This whole self-isolation deal has sure lost its luster over here. Not that it was ever amazing, but no one can deny that there was a novelty factor to it all that made things interesting for the first couple weeks.
Everyone was either in self-discovery or sloth mode.
Self-Improvement Olympics versus Who’s the Biggest Slacker.
Or maybe survival mode, if you’re parenting young children whilst NOT BEING ABLE TO USE ANY PARK OR PLAYGROUND TO BURN OFF THEIR BOUNDLESS ENERGY.
Apologies for shouting. I fear I’m coming unhinged.
It’s my birthday today, Reader. While Husband always spoils me rotten, this year he outdid himself. In the midst of a global pandemic, he took the day off to take care of the kids so this mama could skip off to her Mama Space and ignore her family for the whole day!
Lately the pull to write has been strong, so here I am. I’m usually quite inspired to write by the time I sit down, but today I’m just happy to be here.
And because self-isolation is something we all have in common these days, I thought I would drop a question in your lap for you to ponder:
If you could choose any 3 people in the entire world with whom to self-isolate, who would you pick and why? You cannot choose family members. That is too easy and I also wouldn’t believe you.
(To be clear, these 3 people would be in addition to the people you already live with.)
I’ll go first:
Hands down, my number one pick would be Brene Brown. My nightstand is currently home to a wobbly tower of several of her books, which I am slowly making my way through for the second or tenth time. (Husband and I joke that I am experiencing a mid-life crisis because of all the ‘self-help/improvement’ reading I’ve been doing. If that were true, then I’ve been in a mid-life crisis since I was 22, reading my first Dr. Phil book on a beach in Australia.) (Also, I plan to have cosmetic surgery and upgrade my Hyundai for my real mid-life crisis). In the midst of this pandemic, though, when I am in my head so much, I’m thinking it would be pretty nice to have Brene Brown in my living room. She could give me daily reminders that I am worthy of belonging, that I don’t need to put so much value on what other people think. That I am enough. So that when ‘normal life’ resumes, I am not wasting any more time editing myself to be some version that I think others will find more pleasing or acceptable. I know what you’re thinking, Reader: I don’t need Brene Brown to tell me those things; I can be the one to tell myself those wonderful little truths. And you’re right. But as a recovering perfectionist on a quest for self-acceptance, I think having Brene Brown here in my house – a woman steeped in practical wisdom who literally wrote the book (several, actually) on the gifts of imperfection – would be kind of like moving to Tibet to live with the monks, except I can’t do that because of the travel ban and also women can’t live with monks. But Brene Brown is wise, too. Not unlike a monk.
Next on my list would be Whitney Simmons. If you’re a female millennial and you’re into fitness, you have probably heard of her. I realize I am not a millennial, thank you very much. And yes, I know, fitness is not exactly my wheelhouse these days. But I got sucked into the vortex of the Instagram explore feature one day, and there she was. After following her workouts for a few months now, I would happily invite her to join me and Brene in quarantine. Not only is she incredibly fit, but she seems really nice. I don’t get the vibe that her success has gone to her head. I mean, she only has 3 million followers, which isn’t many in comparison to other influencers. (Just teasin’ ya, Whit!) Her workout clothes are gorgeous – and she would probably let me borrow them because she’s nice – and she gives make-up tutorials too. Being in quarantine with Whitney would be like taping pictures of fit women in bikinis all over my kitchen so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat so much cookie dough. Every day, once we’d completed our workouts and done our make-up, we’d have a cup of tea with Brene and talk about what it means to be vulnerable and worthy of belonging, despite our imperfections.
Lastly, I would invite Jurgen Klopp, manager of the Liverpool Football Club. This would make Husband extremely happy as he loves the LFC only a smidge
more less than he loves his children. Jurgen seems like an interesting and intelligent man who I wouldn’t mind having at my dinner table. Plus he has a fantastic accent. Husband and Jurgen could set up soccer football drills on the front lawn and run the children until they (the children) collapsed in joyful exhaustion and begged for extra-long naps. Husband and Jurgen would then retire to the back garden for a beer, leaving Brene, Whitney, and I to sip our wine tea wine, in plank pose.
Ok Reader, your turn!
Maybe you’ll dare to share your Quarantine Top 3 in the comments here, or maybe you’ll make this a topic for the dinner table tonight. Whatever you decide, I hope it’s an enjoyable distraction for you.
Yours in Quarantine Madness,