deluge

Beginning in early March, I started signing up for free online summits ranging from using creativity (in its many manifestations) for healing to learning how to write my story, from trying new ways to revive energy levels to painting big, bold flowers.  My intentions were ambitious, and I actively watched instructional videos and interviews while signing up for more and more content from various presenters.  I was feeling positive and motivated for the first several weeks, and then, suddenly, I wasn't.  I've allowed my inbox to reach an overwhelming number of read, starred, and unread emails while actively avoiding doing anything about it.  Instead, I now only look for specific emails about mail order prescriptions or those from friends and family.  The number of tabs open on the laptop I share with my husband has also gotten a bit out of control.  So what gives?

I'm in overload with the deluge of artists, makers, writers, life coaches, advocates, and teachers whom I've invited into my inbox by signing up for free classes and subscribing to interesting websites.  So why have I done this?  Because I'm always looking to learn new things and watch new things and discover new creative people and their work.  Because so many people have been offering access to ways to cope with how our lives have changed amidst this pandemic at no charge.  Because each new website I subscribe to gives me links to even more creative people that I want to know about.  It's me grasping at loads of learning potential, but maybe a little too much learning potential.

Overwhelm sometimes comes easy for me as someone who identifies as highly sensitive so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that I'm feeling it now in the midst of social isolation and a constant news cycle about the coronavirus and COVID-19.  The thing is, however, that my life hasn't really changed all that much since this pandemic began and restrictions were put in place.  Or so I thought. 

I'm a homebody now, and I was homebody before this.  I don't have a wide array of friends that I socialize with in person on a regular basis since, truthfully, I just haven't met that many people in Alaska since my husband and I moved here two years ago.  (My long-term friendships are with folks scattered elsewhere around the US and beyond.)  My infrequent outings have been with co-workers of my husband and their partners.  Also, I'm not someone who is missing getting my nails done, getting a haircut (it's been nearly three years since my last one), eating out, going to the gym, getting massages or shopping.  I enjoy some of these things, but I'm okay not getting to do them just now.  Thankfully, my husband is an essential employee and has additionally taken on the role of grocery-getter.  Therefore, my time is spent largely at home with my forays outside limited to walks, bird watching, or taking our cat into the fenced back yard. 

But maybe there are some things I haven't been acknowledging about my feelings of saturation and overload.  By that, I mean the stress of how much things have actually changed + the unknowns + the worries about my loved ones might be making too much learning potential feel like a burden because those opportunities are, well, more things to think about.  Added to these things is my status as someone with an underlying condition which puts me at greater risk were I to fall ill from this virus/disease.  There is a level of fear inherent in any outing now, something I'm not sure I was recognizing until these last few days. 

There are loads of folks out there, pretty much on a daily basis, telling us that it's okay to feel all of the feelings we have.  It's okay to not do anything, to put things off that can be put off.  It's okay to not be productive.  It's okay to feel sad or mad or fearful.  It's okay to feel overcome by responsibilities and to do lists.  And it's okay to feel like creativity can be put on hold until you're really interested and focused.  So that's my plan for now - stop worrying about what's not getting done and allow feelings to come and eventually go.

Coming from a place of privilege in knowing my husband and I still have savings and money coming in, that we have the means to keep ourselves entertained, that we live in a beautiful place, that our well-being remains stable, and that we have health insurance, it would be arrogant entitlement to wish for more than what I currently have and can do while so many are suffering.