Lessons From Quarantine

Turns out, I’ve been doing too much for decades.

Essentially, I’ve lived on the brink of burnout for the entirety of my adult life. The vicious cycle of over-commit, crash, recover, over-commit just felt normal to me.

I think part of this is a result of my upbringing: I grew up in a high-demand environment where we were always going-going-going. There was never downtime. I only rested when I got sick. I was only as good as my performance. I lived a highly productive, 24/7 life. After awhile, it just felt normal.

I carried this high-demand life long into my adulthood. I was the mom who did everything. I volunteered and cooked and sewed and drove kids all over the place to their various activities. I taught classes at church. I somehow managed to write books and blogs and articles in the midst of it.

I was forever doing more than I had energy for and always wondering why I felt stressed out, irritable and sick all the time.

And then came the pandemic.

Quarantine taught me that my “normal life” was way too busy. In my pre-pandemic life, I was doing way, WAY too much.

The quarantine taught me that I was made for a slower, simpler, quieter life. After the initial anxiety of the pandemic melted away something else began to happen. I surrendered to the slowness. I made my peace with an empty calendar. And my mental health began to improve.

There was nowhere to be and nobody to see. For some reason this just absolutely emptied my life of anxiety and stress. It confirmed what I’d suspected for awhile: that I’m an introvert. I need alone time to recharge my batteries. A busy social schedule wears me out.

My pre-pandemic life was filled with deadlines and appointments and always more to do. Quarantine brought everything to a standstill. All I had to do each day was cook for the kids, clean up the house and keep up with the laundry. Funny, that was quite enough. It’s a lot, even. Just doing that—just being a mom was a full-time job.

It made me realize that I’ve never given myself enough credit. I keep thinking that Being A Mom isn’t enough. I keep piling things on myself. For years I’ve been trying to prove that I’m “not just a mom.” That I can do lots of other things, too.

I’d bought into the lie that said if I wasn’t learning a new skill or building a side-hustle or trying to start a new business or do MORE, then I wasn’t a good human being. I wasn’t worthy of rest. I wasn’t living my “best life.”

But with less to do, my mental health was undeniably improving. Turns out, my brain likes a simplified schedule.

Quarantine also reminded me that things pass. Moods, difficulties, daily annoyances will pass. I don’t always have to react to everything. Not everything demands an immediate answer. I don’t have to fix everything. I can let the kids be bored without feeling compelled to fix it for them. I can let them make their own food if they don’t want what I’m cooking. I can take naps whenever I need them. I can pause.

And now that stay-at-home orders are lifting in my area, I’m slowly venturing back out into life. But I’m taking these lessons with me. The last thing I want to do is get back into that vicious cycle of over-commit and crash.

I want to remember that I am doing enough. I am enough. I am allowed to rest. One day at a time.