I’m not normally someone who “gives the finger.” It’s crass, and implies a level of anger and frustration I try to avoid. 2020, however, has pushed me to the edge.
I feel exhausted, discouraged, disappointed, sad, isolated, and – yes—angry and frustrated. 2020 has gotten the best of me, and there are days when I hardly recognize myself. I feel like 2020 is close to defeating me.
Kalisa and I started this blog two years ago to express our search for “style, delight and joy – and a great pair of shoes.” Our catchphrase brings to mind a level of energy and fun that I just don’t feel now. We’ve written almost nothing in 2020, mostly because it feels like style, delight and joy are irrelevant in 2020. The world has been hurting too much.
Enough. I’m (metaphorically) giving 2020 the finger. I’m telling 2020 it can’t beat me. This post isn’t about the silver linings of the challenges of 2020; that might be a post for another day. Nor is it a formula for success, an “adversity builds character” type of story. This is just my little battle against 2020.
(And I’m asking for forgiveness from my mother and mother-in-law, neither of whom are likely to be happy that I’m writing about giving the finger.)
Here’s how I’m giving 2020 the finger:
I nap.
I have never been a napper. I had way too much to do. A nap was a sign that you were lazy and unimportant. I considered myself a do-er. I had a to-do list everyday, and got great satisfaction from putting a big checkmark next to each accomplishment.
In 2020, with no traveling, shopping, or entertaining, I sit on my back patio almost every day. I read, and I eventually lay my head down and take a little snooze. Turns out a nap is pretty good stuff.
Take that, 2020.
I walk.
I have averaged 15,000 steps per day since April. I make myself get outside, even in crappy weather, and I walk.
The changing seasons have been spectacular this year. Maybe they always have and I was too busy to notice. On my walks I’ve connected with neighbors I haven’t spoken to in years, and I’ve met some new ones. We stand 10 feet apart, and chat about the weather or what we can’t find at the grocery store. I never used to stop and chat, but now I do.
I can find joy in the most pedestrian (literally) of activities, if only I take the time to look for some good.
Take that, 2020.
I (try to) give grace.
One day it was all too much, and I cried in Kroger.
It started when I asked the meat department manager if they had a bone-in pork butt, and he chewed me out: “Ma’am, you may not have heard, but there’s a thing called a CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC going on? You’re going to have to realize you can’t have everything you want when you want it.”
Yes, I knew there was a coronavirus pandemic going on. . . I was wearing my mask, dousing myself in hand-sanitizer, and shopping at 8 am to avoid the crowds. I was shopping for my family and for my in-laws, who had been locked in quarantine in their senior living facility for months. We were faced with shortages and rationing, and each grocery trip was longer, larger, and more expensive than I could imagine.
On that particular day I was on the hunt for a bone-in pork butt for my 26th wedding anniversary. There would be no date-night celebration at a restaurant this year. I was hoping to make our anniversary night a tiny bit special, or at least different from every other night held captive in our kitchen. So yes, I was aware of the coronavirus pandemic.
I asked politely and respectfully for a pork butt, I thought. Maybe he couldn’t see that I was smiling as I asked, since I had a mask on. Maybe he had had a run on bone-in pork butts that day, and was fed up. Or maybe he was at a breaking point, and fighting demons I can’t even imagine. But he was pretty darn mean, and he humiliated me.
As I walked the aisles trying to find a suitable pork butt replacement, I started to cry big snotty tears. My initial reaction was indignant anger. And then I was just sad. It was all just so sad. The Kroger employees were exhausted; they had been working night and day to keep the shelves filled. I looked around at old people, shopping with masks and gloves on, clearly frightened by the germs they might be encountering. I saw overwhelmed mothers dragging children through the store, children who normally would have been in classrooms. We were all on edge, judging each other for too little or too much response to Covid. Everyone in that store looked frightened, angry, and isolated. Or at least they seemed so, from the look in their eyes over their masks.
After what became known as the “pork butt incident” I’m trying to give grace, to be more patient, more tolerant, and less quick-to-anger. I’m trying to give the benefit of a doubt, and not jump to a conclusion about anyone’s motives or intelligence. We all need some kindness.
I don’t always succeed. But I’m trying to fight impatience and intolerance with patience and empathy. I can’t begin to know what battles someone is facing. We are all at a boiling point. I’m giving grace.
Take that, 2020.
I voted.
The world is really tough right now. It feels darker than anytime I remember having lived through. (I suspect 1968 was pretty bad, but I was only four then.) I have felt powerless, isolated, and like I have no voice. But the one place I do have a voice is at the ballots, and I have exercised my right to have my voice heard. It felt good.
Take that, 2020.
I’m finding a way to be with my people.
Like everyone else, we’ve cancelled vacations, missed parties and dinners, and didn’t see friends. We’re still following the rules now, but we are finding ways to see family and connect with friends, even if it takes some creativity.
We had drinks on a friend’s patio, and she literally measured the distance between the chairs to make sure there was 6 feet between us. As we round the corner into fall, I’ve installed heaters on our patio, so we can continue to see friends there.
I was struggling with not having seen Kalisa in a year. Our plan this fall was for a fabulous European vacation together, to numb her empty nest sadness. Didn’t happen. We defaulted to a quick trip to Colorado to hike the mountains and eat at outside restaurants that have heaters. It was a little chilly, but we got to spend time together and we saw some beautiful sights. It was lovely, and a much-needed balm for my soul.
Take that, 2020.
In 10 weeks this God-awful year will be over, and we’ll all be happy to see it in our rear-view mirrors. Who knows whether and when life will get back to normal. I do know that we two dandelions are going to try to do our best to grow where we are planted, regardless of how dark this year has been. We chose the name of our blog based in part on dandelions’ strength and tenacity. And right now, for me, that means giving 2020 the finger.
Want to see the things we used to write about, before 2020? Please see:
- Why “two dandelions”?
- Why we write what we write. . .
- Elevate your Christmas…Tree
- Love is a Diet Coke with a wedge of lemon
- I Loved Halloween When My Kids Couldn’t Drive!
- Veggie Lasagna… You Can’t Ruin This!
- Top Ten Things About Being Over 50
