“Honestly, I hate this, too.” Those were the words I typed in my email to my homeroom advisee today. It has taken three weeks but she has finally opened up. No more “all is well” no more “I am all good” but now she is starting to break. Aren’t we all?

At first, it was easy to be socially distanced.

The quarantine hashtags and memes were created, the schedules were made, and the change was new. Deep cleaning happened, floorboards had never looked so clean. Yet as week four emerges for us in quarantine and the new dust has settled on our bookshelves the “new” that COVID-19 brought has worn off and honestly, I hate this.

I hate feeling like I am torn in all directions at once.

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Being home, our home should be clean and meals should be made (an expectation I set solely on myself).

Being a mom, my children should be having the best years of their childhood full of an adventure each day orchestrated by Mary Poppins mixed with a Ms. Frizzle type of flair.

Being a teacher, my students should have a new and individualized electronic learning plan that is challenging yet flexible, understanding yet layered for growth. As their parents are not teachers I should provide extra supports and resources to guide them in helping their students.

But honestly, I suck at all of those individually, let alone when I put all three on top of each other.

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Honestly, I hate this.

A sense of purpose is gone. A sense of reality is gone. I wouldn’t even know it was Sunday except for it means my husband’s day off. A sense of routine is gone.

And that is hard.

Don’t get me wrong, sickness is harder. Struggling is harder. The potential of harming others is harder. So safe we stay, at home, at rest, just trying to do our best.

But maybe we need to stop, recognize it’s OK to be imperfect, and admit, “Honestly I hate this too.”

 Originally published on the author’s blog

Jamie Propson

Jamie Propson is a midwest mother, teacher, and farmer.