Keeping a social distance

I am not a social distancing kind of person. I'm a hugger-on-our-first-meeting kind of person. I am a "let's pile as many people into this room as we can and laugh as loud as possible" kind of person. My kids? They also suck at social distancing.

Saturday morning, I woke up feeling very on edge. I had difficulty falling asleep...I've made a fairly successful transition to working nights and sleeping mornings, but when there isn't work to do, my brain still wants to stay up. By 2pm, I was ready to string a child up by her toenails and just needed to get out of the house.

I announced to Rich that I was leaving - and I loaded up my car with Pete's tools and LuLaRoe deliveries in the hopes of getting some peace and quiet and social distance from my favorite people. Of course, my car wouldn't start. (Apparently 3 days of inactivity was too much for her...). So in I went...grabbed Rich's keys, moved everything over and took off.  It only took me a few minutes to set up my music and it wasn't long before I was cruising down the road, singing along and starting to unwind.

It was just a few minutes into my journey that I was faced with a dilemma...what should I do when I actually get to the door for these deliveries? Leave it in the mailbox? Knock on the door and run? Text ahead? Would I maintain social distance? 6' between me and the person I wanted to hug?

Door #1: Kelly and I stayed 6' apart...with the exception of when I handed her the LLR bag with her new dress. It was awkward to not hug her hello - but we both handled it, joked about it and then I went on my way. There was no inviting me in - but the invitation wasn't expected.

Door #2: A more difficult visit... more awkward. This time, I was pulling up to someone who is like family. A family with whom hugs are standard...not just at hello and goodbye, but at varying moments in between. I unloaded the car into the open and waiting garage. "Did you disinfect this already?" Maybe... but I won't be insulted if it is disinfected again! There was a recently disinfected seat set up for me in the corner of Pete's garage. He invited me to stay...and I politely declined, saying I needed to get home. We chatted for another minute and he offered me a seat again...I again politely declined...but as I gave another logical reason for my departure, I realized that Pete had been locked in his house for two weeks too...and was probably craving interaction as much as I had been.

So I sat. I sat in a chair - a good 10' away. And we chatted. Just chatted and chatted and chatted. About nothing. About Trump. About his general botching of this whole situation. It felt SO good to just relax and chat with my friend...as much as I knew I needed to get home, needed to get to my next stop...I just didn't want to leave. Eventually, after maybe the best 20 minutes I had in a while, I stood at the edge of the garage and wrapped my arms around my own shoulders in a gesture of a hug to send his way. It felt so strange not to hug my friend.

But I moved on to Door #3: where Liz met me outside and I stayed in my car and she stayed outside my car...I handed her the bag of LuLa Goodies...and she stuck my crock pots in the back seat. And again - we didn't hug...didn't exchange anything more than a few words and saddened glances - but just as quickly as I got there, I was backing down the driveway to get to Door #4.

Door #4 was Katie. Katie met me at the front door and gave me the option to come in, which I declined - even though I wanted nothing more than to sit on her couch for an hour and just chat about our children and what we missed about our normal lives. Instead, we stood on her side porch, sheltered from the chilly mist that rained on us. I stood by the door to the outside - she stood by the door to the inside. I was there for two little nightstands. Or at least that was my excuse for being there. But in actuality, I was there to see my friend and spend time with her - a person that I see often in "normal" life.

After leaving Door #4, I made my way home, with a brief stop at 7-eleven. I boldly walked in with my two 50 ounce cups, ready to present my argument over how my reusable cups, fresh from my dishwasher and recently cleaned and sterilized, were less of a risk to me and everyone around me than the "fresh" cups at the soda fountain that were able to be touched by many people, other than me. Of course, since my argument was ready, no one questioned my cups and I marched through Door #5, straight to my beloved caffeine dispensing machine and filled both of those cups as I read the sign about no reusable cups...

As I paid, my buddy behind the checkout was more chatty than normal. I stayed for a minute, indulging his conversation, fighting the panic within me that just wanted to be back in the safe air of my car. Once I was safely back in my car, I had a moment to reflect on my afternoon and my "errands." They all answered a craving: normalcy.

I find myself in a weird funk - a depression of sorts without being like any depression I have known before. I attacked this time at home with verve and enthusiasm - a want and need to do as much as possible and make the most of this time in the house.

I find myself looking for that energy - longing for the person who felt hopeful and full of that enthusiasm from two weeks ago. The person I see has a sadness in her soul. She is resigned and lacking the hope required to make it through this time. She smiles and is peaceful but is missing the intense enjoyment that the living of life brings.

This time is unlike any other we have ever known - and hopefully unlike anything our future will bring. Safety and the need to socially distance is critical - but humans are not meant to be alone. We need each other. We need to balance our physical well-being with our emotional and mental health.