So there I was, sipping my coffee, looking out the window at the grey and gloomy skies thinking “typical Monday” until I realized it is in fact Sunday. I don’t know about you, but losing track of what day it is, or what day something happened or something someone said freaks me out a little. It doesn’t help that Alzheimer’s and dementia runs in my family. So I find myself making myself recite dates, times and memories to lock them in my memory vault. Yes, I am fully aware that my anxiety and OCD is showing, but here we are.

I find myself checking the fridge and freezer more than I should. Not for snacks….not every time. I find myself double checking that I did in fact buy enough food the last time I went to the grocery store to last us 2 weeks. I try to only go every 2 weeks. Trying my best to stay home. This Thursday coming is my planned grocery day. I’m already feeling a little tight in the chest about it. I find myself planning my “aisle route”, double checking I have a mask and hand sanitizer in my purse, that I have enough cash in case the debit is down, how to get the food in the house, should I wipe it down first or wipe myself down first …and it’s only Monday…I mean Sunday. When I realize what I’m doing to myself, I try to calm down. I try to change my mind. More often than not, I find myself in my garage having a cigarette. … I know. I know! Smoking is bad for me, especially in these times. Cut a girl some slack okay? I don’t even know what day it is. … and although it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, there is no booze in my house.

Most days I’m good. More or less feel like myself, make the most of things. Do a puzzle. Bake anything. Clean around the house. Play a game with the family. Call up friends. Check in on those who need help. Share funny posts and good news on Instagram. Go for a walk. Stand in my backyard and feel the breeze on my face. Then there are the days that I’m just sitting there, literally sitting there, not reading or listening to anything or watching T.V. and all of a sudden my eyes fill up. I’m on the verge of crying. Usually first thing in the morning. I’m always the first one up, so the house is quiet = more time to think. I don’t even know what I’m crying about. I think it’s just a release. My spirit letting go of stress, of the should have and could haves, maybe even grieving a little bit. Grieving for changed plans, or plans lost. Grieving for my dear friends who have lost loved ones these past few weeks. Grieving for the families and communities in Nova Scotia. Missing my Gramma Leah and her words of wisdom and fabulous recipes.

The point of this tale is not to cordially invite you to my pity party. It’s written in hopes of helping anyone who is feeling the same way. To let you know it’s okay to feel like you’re losing yourself. It’s okay to be scared that you may bring something home with you other than groceries. It’s okay to be happy and it’s okay to be sad. There is no right or wrong way to feel. We are all in this together.

Wash your hands. Stay home as much as possible. Check in on your family. Check on your friends and neighbours. Laugh when you want to. Cry when you need to. It’s going to be alright.