Currently I am the only one who needs to leave in the morning.
The mad rush to be up and out of bed by 6am has shifted to slow stumbling around 6:30am.
My commute is the lightest it's ever been. It's eerie. And fast.
And at the same time the days seem heavier.
The weight of what we are dealing with seems to becoming louder.
A number of people I've checked in with over the last two days are feeling more sadness, worry, fear.
Yesterday at work, I physically saw only 2 patients, but connected with over 15 via phone or messages around their health needs.
There were so many 'thank you's' from them.
I don't know how to take that.
I don't turn off being a provider because of all of this, or when I am home.
If anything, I am more aware of this part of my life as health needs, outside of the acuity of what is going, have not disappeared. There is more worry for patients around the smaller things they might need help with but are scared to come to the clinic for care.
The weight of possible impact on my kids is creeping in as anxious fear. It's one thing for me not to be able to see my friends. It's another for my kids to not see their people. Not hug them or play directly. I was talking with one of my closest friends about this last night. We both started crying.
We know, we KNOW, this is not permanent. But the current state of fear and uncertainty is not something we can hide from our kids. We have to protect them and care for them, and ourselves at the same time. It felt very big and empty last night.
I got home from work yesterday and curled up on the couch for a few minutes (Yes, those are boob pillows).
I held the weight I was feeling. I breathed through it. I exhaled some of my anxiety. I got up. And then I went outside and played with my children.
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