The realities of grief

This one is the result of flinging leftover paint at an unwanted canvas, which shows the level of frustration reached as yesterday wound to a close.

I read a post on Facebook -- last night or this morning -- that advised us that we needn't fault ourselves for not being productive during this time of isolation. We don't have to write the great american novel (though I did write a 10 minute play yesterday); we don't need to learn to play the ukelele, or write new virus-specific lyrics to an old song and perform them.

We DO need to give ourselves permission to just be, to feel what we're feeling; to rest and be grateful; to reconnect with our families and do what we can to ease the burdens of the world.

As the reality of what we're facing -- even without the worries about illness and death -- sinks in, it's not surprising that a walk into my studio makes me feel like sinking to the floor.

I think it must be a bit like the stages of grief: at first we're all about activity, all the stuff we need to take care of in response to the change; the insistence that we can take control and by doing so ensure that life will continue in at least a semblance of what it was -- i.e., denial.

And then there's anger -- which we all felt, when our president remained in denial while we moved on. Next came the bargaining: surely we can make this work, all of us jockeying for position in the calling queue for grocery delivery, buying up the toilet paper, storing up the bread...

But now comes the long haul, the stark reality sets in and depression starts to rear its ugly head. At least another month of being trapped in our homes; will we -- not getting through to delivery -- have to risk our health by going to the store? How will we refrain from sniping at our housemates, and what will happen to our businesses and jobs, and when will our shelters and our hospitals and health providers get overloaded, and what will happen when they do?

Now is the time of testing; now is the time when all our efforts to keep the faith, to be present, to remain calm and continue reaching out on behalf of one another will be challenged. Now is the time to breathe, and breathe again, and just keep breathing, and be grateful for each breath. It may be a while til we reach that last stage of acceptance. Let's see if we can be patient, together.

Learnings: Dark blue and green together are boring, no matter how much white you add.
                   When I try to make it look like something it gets boring.
                   Don't paint when you're tired.