It happened: I lost myself during isolation.
A month ago, life looked completely different. It was good — in fact, it was more than good. Then everything changed. The virus outbreak occurred globally and sent everyone spiraling, including myself. The depressing news of the outside world eventually found its way inside my home.
The moment I knew I was mentally in trouble happened on a Saturday. Saturdays already feel extra hard — my husband is home and the routine with our 3-year-old son is off. We were watching TV and, for the first time in his life, my son intentionally peed on me. I tried to hold it together, show him the consequences. I couldn't.
My husband took him in the other room for a cool down period. I went to see how my husband was faring and he said something to me that sent me over the tipping point. "Oh my God, for the first time in your life you look disheveled."
I broke
Some days I feel trapped and scared
Nowhere to go. No one to see. No plans to look forward to — just endless isolation. The tears fall easily.
Every day isn't entirely bad and that's probably why I've ignored it for so long. The moments can be so good during the day with my precious son. It's the lows that are terribly low, like when a mere comment or childish misbehavior sends me into uncontrollable sobs, something is wrong.
My patience is gone. I'm irritable and easily agitated. Usually, the cool, collected parent, I find myself working off a system of threats and bribes. I never was perfect, but I at least used to try.
The scariest thought is that I'll never return to myself
How can I? I'm never alone to decompress, something I need to feel like myself. For the extroverts, I'm sure this time period is tough. For me, it's the zero alone time. Not one hour to myself, followed by guilt for even wanting it.
There is guilt because our situation isn't bad. I don't live in a big city where the hospitals are swamped. Our doctors are not choosing who can survive and who must die. So who am I to feel so lost? My only job is to stay home.
I haven't communicated how lost I am to my husband or expressed that I need help, other than mind-boggling fits — which tend to be ineffective.
I can't pretend to know how to pull myself together, but somehow I have to reach within and pull my own happiness out. It's time to protect my mental health and tell my husband what I need from him. It's also time to do what I can for myself.
Otherwise, isolation will win
I can't control the outside chaos, but I can control my reactions to it. Part of that is accepting that it is OK to feel. It is OK to feel scared, powerless, and even sad. There is power in accepting feelings.
I can also ease up on my expectations and forgive myself for the bad days. I don't need to be the perfect wife or mother.
Eventually, life as we know it will return. In the meantime, I've got a new game plan for myself — making myself a priority. It's not just the virus that can be dangerous, it's the loss of self — and that's not something any of us can afford to lose.
