The Good Old Days: March 2020

March 16, 2020 feels like 100 years ago. It feels like yesterday. We'd been having meetings at city hall discussing what we were then calling the Coronavirus and what we'd do if faced with it. That Monday morning we found out an employee had COVID-like symptoms. During the end of the previous week he'd been in several cross-departmental meetings, so the potential for exposure to other employees was very strong. We sat in the Mayor's conference room discussing what we should do and whether we should close city hall. I remember the breaking point being that if this person ended up having COVID and we knew he was symptomatic it would be a disaster. (He ended up having the flu but at that time the tests took forever). 

We closed city hall. I went home late that morning and sat at my dining room table working. We didn't have Zoom or Teams or any of the video conferencing platforms we're so proficient with today. I will never forget how quiet the house was and how oddly peaceful I felt.

I picked my son up from preschool around 4 pm, and he was one of only a few kids there (usually there were a dozen or so). I had no idea was our last day of preschool. I had no idea that my son would be home with us for the next 15 months. 

I woke up on St. Patrick's Day, and there was nowhere to rush to. There were no in person meetings. We were (and are) fortunate that we had food and toilet paper and a warm house and jobs that were secure. 

Those first few weeks felt like snow days. The world was so weird, but I felt the most present I've ever been. For the first time in the 5 years of my son's life I had nowhere to be but with him. Sure we had meetings and work, but we were together. My husband would come in the kitchen at 5 pm and make us cocktails, and we'd sit and talk. I was working my way through my favorite recipes from the cookbook my mom put together for me. Life was so much quieter. It was weird, but it was oddly lovely.

The last nearly few years have been very strange. I didn't know on March 16, 2020 that I would never go back to city hall and work during work hours again. I would go once a week or so really early in the morning if I had things I needed quiet to accomplish, but I never sat in the conference room or ran an in person meeting again.

My son was home with us for the entire summer without childcare. We started kindergarten virtually, and one of my dearest friends came over four mornings a week to help with virtual class. Those mornings drinking coffee and chatting with her in my kitchen were the best. I loved seeing her almost every day. In a world where we were distancing and seeing people very little, having her there saved my sanity.

And after several hospitalizations for bowel obstructions that year I decided to change my career. I started my own consulting business, and by the spring of 2021 I was doing well. Life was slower, but it was more beautiful. I was more centered. I was present. I didn't realize how much I was missing until I wasn't missing it.

This year the world has started to feel normal again. I've had five COVID vaccines. My son and husband have had all the shots. My son went to school for the first time without a mask. And my calendar started to fill up again.

I took on more work than I thought I would, but it was good work. It's good and impactful, and I justified the extra time away from my family (at least mentally). I was planning a conference in Phoenix, so there were texts and emails and calls after 5 pm because of the time difference. 

In late September my husband started calling me "City Hall Samantha" because of my stress level. At first I was pissed, but then I realized he was right. I was doing exactly what I'd done on March 15, 2020. My calendar was full. I was responding to texts at all hours. I was working constantly. My phone was tethered to my hand. 

The conference was a lovely success, and I promised myself when I got home I'd re-prioritize. And then there was other work to do and messes to clean up and four clients, and I hadn't changed a thing.

Last week I canceled an afternoon of meetings and took a nap. My GI doctor is changing my Crohn's meds, and while I wait for the authorization and to schedule an infusion I've essentially not been on medication for about 3 weeks. I'm exhausted. My Crohn's is a mess. And City Hall Samantha was running my brain and my schedule. It was time to think about what, if anything, I've learned in the last 2½ years.

I've learned how being present feels. I've learned to focus on my family and prioritize work during hours that work for me. I've learned to prioritize fitness and wellness over work and busy. I've learned to say no. I've learned to ignore work texts after 5 and on the weekends. 

Over the summer as life returned to normal I forgot about the important lessons I learned starting in the spring of 2020. I forgot who I wanted to be as I said yes to too many meetings and tried to cram in all the things. As I sit here at my son's diving practice writing (another thing I love and haven't prioritized) I am feeling nostalgic about the early days of the pandemic. The world was so weird, but in many ways it was really wonderful too. I certainly don't want to go back to the days of masks and lockdown and fear for my health and the health of those I love, but I do want to remember the beautiful lessons I've learned over the last few years. I also need to leave "City Hall Samantha" and her stress level in the past. 

Major reasons to reprioritize include this little guy.