I’m at a loss for words when it comes to this blog post. Usually, my posts linger in the back of my mind as my subconscious thinks and ponders on things. When I’ve mulled things over enough my thoughts suddenly pop to the surface. I sit down to write and a blog post comes flooding out. 

That isn’t the case with this one. 

I have little snippets of things skipping about in my mind. While interesting (to me), they don’t come together around a theme, and certainly don’t make up enough of a coherent thought to warrant a blog post. Yet, here I am – trying to write a post.

Today is the three-year anniversary of my mother’s death. I’ve been thinking a lot about her recently. For better or for worse, the proximity of her death to Mother’s Day means my news feeds and social media are full of content which inevitably pulls memories of her close.

Two years ago I wrote a blog post about her death and anniversaries – including a review of where I was “this time last year” and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that. It was a fun post to pull together because it highlighted for me how much things can change in just a year. 

The final words of that blog post where: “I don’t know what my next trip around the sun will hold. Looking back on just the past six years has shown me that I should expect the unexpected and make the most of every moment.” 

Heading into the 9^th week of being stuck at home during a pandemic would not have been on my list of possibilities for what my trip around the sun would have held for me come May 2020. For me, home has always been a place from which I look out to the horizon to see what adventures come next. 

I’ve never been much of a homebody. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love my home and the beautiful city I get to live in, but being home is always a temporary thing. A thing I do between trips and travels and adventures and experiences. Even on a run-of-the-mill weekend (pre-COVID-19), Glenn and I would leave home early in the morning and only return in the late afternoon – having filled our days with activities and errands.

I think part of the reason I am feeling so scattered – aside from the chaos of the times we are in – is because I am being forced to stay home so much. I am blessed to have a job that enables me to continue working from home instead of the office. However, that situation is adding to my sense of feeling stuck, trapped and claustrophobic. 

A few weeks ago I was really having a hard time. 

I finally realized it was because my days were blurring together into one big block. I had set up my home office on the dining room table. I’d get up in the morning, sit at my “desk” all day (hour after hour after hour of video-conference calls), then I’d move 6 feet to my left to my spot on the living room couch where I spend my evenings reading. From 8:00 AM to 10:00 PM, my entire day was encompassed in about twelve square feet of living space.

I had never realized how important my morning and evening commute was in terms of helping me mentally and emotionally transition from “work Michele” to “home Michele.” No longer going into the office meant my days were all running together and I couldn’t figure out if I was coming or going. 

Glenn and I made a plan to create a clear demarcation between the phases of my day. We now have a “morning commute” which constitutes a 45-minute run or power-walk (followed by a coffee from the coffee shack on the corner by our house that is blessedly still open!), and an “evening commute” which involves a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood, often with the dogs.

This small change to my daily routine has made all the difference in the world for me. I think that a sense of movement and motion…of not being stuck in one spot…is something I need in order to feel settled.

My mother used to tease me that I was high maintenance because she thought I was never contented. She’d say I was always in motion – either doing, or planning, or scheming or making. Once I finished one thing, I’d be on to the next. She’d marvel at how Glenn could put up with it and go along for the ride, even cautioning me once that he might want a divorce before long if I couldn’t chill out a bit more. 

Being forced to stay home because of the pandemic has given me the gift of more deeply understanding this dynamic in my life and the important role it plays. Being stationary (no matter how lovely my home, backyard and housemates are) makes me feel scattered and panicky. Being in motion makes me feel clear-headed and settled. 

I got a big dose of movement and adventure this past Friday. Washington just re-opened their state lands for day use activities, so Glenn and I hopped over to do some hiking in a remote area we hadn’t been to before. It was a doozy of a hike climbing up to the summit of a mountain, 11.5 miles roundtrip (photos below). 

For much of the hike I felt a visceral sensation of re-grounding. The relieved thought “I am no longer untethered!” kept passing through my mind. The hike showed me how much I need movement and adventure to keep myself whole, and that even small doses (like a day hike) can be enough to set things to rights again. 

It will likely be some time before I am free to roam far and wide again. 

No doubt the big international trip we had planned for this Fall will get canceled. If you ask me where I’ll be this time next year…I certainly hope the answer isn’t “still stuck at home waiting out the pandemic.”

But, if that should come to pass, at least I’m now armed with a deeper understanding of the importance of finding small ways to make my days more dynamic so that I can keep that wanderlust-seeking-wee-beastie in my soul a bit more satisfied.    

P.S. To my dear friend John. I am holding you in my heart today/tomorrow, and always. One year ago I was at your “going away” party as you set out to travel the world and seek what comes next for you in this life. Three years ago we were both sitting beside our loved ones as they died. My mother, on May 11…and your beloved wife Melissa on May 12. No doubt today will bring up a lot of emotions for both of us. You will most likely explore and embrace them, I will most likely avoid and repress them. 😉 We make a good pair. I love ya!