The Harshest Critic

According to the weather bureau, it feels like 35°C outside right now… It is almost 30° inside! It is not yet midday, and definitely not too late for another coffee, but I think today calls for a latte “on the rocks”!

The brilliant blue dome overhead is framed on the horizon with billowing white clouds, visibly reaching up into the sky as I watch them. Tinged with a hint of charcoal, threatening storms later in the day.

Barely a breath disturbs the foliage. Not a note uttered from the birds, seeking what shade they can. Even the usual summertime buzz – that reverberates through the undergrowth from unseen cicadas – is eerily absent.

Perhaps the oppressive nature of the day and the ominous grey on the horizon is indicative of the darker voice within, that exerts its own level of oppression on our psyche. I am sure I am my own harshest critic – I second-guess every decision I make, wondering “was this the right course of action? Is this the best thing to do?”

I have been doing that a lot lately.

We all want the best for those we care about. Of course there will be bumpy patches on the road of life, but we always wish them the smoothest route. And when the way forward becomes unclear, with nowhere to turn, then we look to help clear a path.

We seek advice and form a plan. We weigh up the pros and cons, then attempt to move forward… But, there it is again, that niggling silent critic from within. When one of those “cons“ becomes apparent, I begin to question myself. “Have I done the right thing?“ “Is this really the best course of action?“ “Will the ramifications, the difficulties, or the outcome cause more damage than we began with”? “Will I be responsible for the complete breakdown of the situation?“

All I want to do is help someone I love live a better life. All I want to do is fix fracturing relationships. Anxiety can be crippling – not just for the sufferer.

No one can answer my questions. No one can silence the voice. I will just have to trust the advice and appreciate the support of others. The murky depths of the mind offer zero visibility and harbour many invisible obstacles… we will all find a way forward, and a smooth path… Together.

As the temperature cools, and those late storms roll through, perhaps the fresh breath of air they bring will help to clear the mind and find the way.

Teamwork

It is Monday morning, the beginning of a new working- and learning-from-home week. As I make our coffee and note the coincidental combination of coffee cups that came from the cupboard this morning, it dawned on me how important and far-reaching the concept of teamwork has become. Our lives, more than ever, are a series of interlinking teams, much like a chain driving a series of mechanisms that need to work together smoothly in order for the machine – for life – to move forward.

In our household, our lives before COVID-19 were much more independent of each other. My partner would leave early each morning to deal with the chaos of traffic enroute to the office, and I would deal with the chaos of getting the children to school and organising the household. Then between after-school activities and my partner arriving home later in the evening, we were all so tired and frazzled that we remained relatively independent of each other through until bedtime.

Now we often enjoy a morning cup of coffee together, and sometimes a snack during the children’s break times. My partner is helping our highschooler with her work, as I supervise our primary school boys. The children also have to be mindful of their father in his office, so as not to disturb his work either.

We have all become members of each other’s teams without even realising it, and we are all working together surprisingly well – the machine is running smoothly and our life is moving forward.

Unprecedented times call for unprecedented cooperation, and a deeper level of communication has been the key. I will miss this special team we’ve become when life gets back to “normal“.

My World Is Still Normal

It is still early, and I’ve crept out into the garden to enjoy the cool fresh air and bright friendly sunshine. The chorus of birds this morning is more like a full orchestra – too many different calls to count. I breathe in deeply and slowly… and just like the day, I can feel myself slowly coming to life.

In this moment, my world is normal. It is the first official day of the school Easter break. The children are sleeping in a little, my partner is early in to the office as usual, and I am taking a moment of solitude to gather my thoughts and contemplate the day.

Only this particular day is quite different. I won’t be planning an outing for our first day of leisure. We will be planning an at home activity. We won’t go out for a picnic lunch, but perhaps will enjoy one in our own backyard. My partner won’t come home from the office this evening, the office is now at home.

As I contemplate my day, I am reminded that my world is not normal. No one’s world is “normal“ any more. We are in the midst of a pandemic, like nothing we’ve seen in 100 years. Our new “normal” is a world of restricted movement, limitations, trepidation and uncertainty.

In order to live with our new “normal“, I have just realised the importance of taking this moment to feel the old “normal”. While the sun rises, while the birds herald, while the day is still fresh and new… as it is every single day. While my partner goes to the office, just like any other weekday and the children sleep in a little just because they can. I breathe in deeply and slowly… and for this moment, my world is still normal.

I am so thankful that my partner can work from home, and that I have a garden to share with the children.

How are you managing your new “normal“?