Alright, here’s the deal. The weekly projects seem shitty and irrelevant right now. Yeah, it’s what I’m doing to keep myself busy, but writing as if nothing is happening in the world feels bad.
I know, half of us don’t ever want to hear the word ‘quarantine’ again. If I never had to accidentally misspell it the first time every single time again, I’d be pretty chill with that. But I can’t pretend like I’m just over here in an AirBnb, throwing paint at the walls totally reinventing myself.
I’m not. I kinda wish I was (I see/hate you, Instagram influencers). The truth is two days in a row I chose not to get out of bed. I just laid around until I could muster the energy to care. The first anniversary of my Uncle’s passing was yesterday. He was really important to me, and it was a bad day in a series of bad days. This past two weeks has been the hardest.
Life isn’t normal. I know we keep saying we have to carry on the best we can, and I genuinely admire people who have got a grasp on this. I’m not that person. I’m experiencing dark depression again for the first time in ten years, I’m confused and lost and totally out of my element right now.
There’s no rule book or guidelines for times like this and it’s all weird and hard.
So the deal is, yes, I’ll still do weekly projects because I’m pretty sure I began this concept for these moments specifically. But I’m not going to do projects with a phoney smile and fake optimism. I’m going to do them because I need something to focus my attention on. I need to feel like life hasn’t stopped while all of my energy was just starting to come in full force.
And if you’re struggling, you have company. Do the projects with me. Let me know how they make you feel, let me know how you go through them. I’ll video chat you and we can do them together. This all blows royally, but what else is there to do but give it shit, as my Uncle would say.
So expect stories of the times, when reading in the future. Expect me to mourn a life I loved (I would’ve arrived in Paris yesterday). I have no intention of leaving the pandemic out of the writings because it is so very much inside me now. I’m full up on the emotions of this pandemic.
So to conclude last week’s project, I hate drawing. I’m not good at it, and I don’t enjoy doing it. So, there’s that.
Tomorrow, after over five weeks of being in isolation alone, I will be at my final resting place. My parents’ house. It’s been a lot, moving from place to place across continents. I know everyone is suffering from the uncertainty. Unsure if you’ll get the virus, unsure if you have the virus, afraid of people, miserable at home alone, when will this be over?
I’m right there with you. I’ll be moving in with two people I love very much who are technically my sworn enemies, as is the relationship with parents and their grown children who will soon become roommates.
And not having to wonder where I’ll live when this AirBnb reservation has come to an end, or how I’ll save money to keep myself afloat longer is a huge, huge relief. It’ll be nice to be around all of my things again, in my house with the two people who love me most in the world.
I’m pretty fortunate, I’ll admit.
In this inaugural week of me moving back into my parents’ house indefinitely at age 30, I’m going for a classic, “go, do, and have fun” project. Digging in the dirt with my mom. She’s a true gardening wizard and has fed our family from her backyard garden for a decade. Follow the Instagram for cute things (me).
Honestly, it sounds a little charming and pretty peaceful to just be in the sun, planting new stuff and watching them grow over my time here.
Wish me luck this week and contact me to sponsor your very own flower or fruit/veg in the Myrna Mac garden. You can name it and I’ll send you progress pictures (okay, but seriously cause this actually sounds really fun, also, mom do you mind?).