My Beautiful Pandemic – One Hundred Days

The SARS-CoV-2 pandemic and global outbreak of the disease, COVID-19, has led to much suffering, struggle and uncertainty about our future. Many have changed job positions, myself included. Families have had to change their way of life, myself included. The media has relentlessly propagated fear and rarely offered a glimpse toward any direction of hope. While the pandemic is a very serious event, I often wonder if the constant focus on illness is actually contributing to greater illness, perhaps in different forms. Many beautiful things have happened during the pandemic. As much darkness, as light. As above, so below.

One Hundred

These beautiful moments are overshadowed, of course, by the immense tragedy and global trauma we are experiencing. That cannot be undermined or undervalued. As a single parent, a federal public health officer, a yoga and meditation teacher, and an advocate for health and wellness; this experience has challenged me in ways I couldn’t imagine. Professionally, personally and even physically. I shaved half my head during this pandemic. First time, my friends, first time.

Through one lens, one very special lens, I can tell you the moments of this pandemic that made it beautiful for me. This isn’t to say the entire experience has been positive; clearly not. Noticing the small, profound moments gave me a way to find beauty in this experience. Even joy and amazement.

The pandemic rages on as we approach fall, however, I think most will agree that the month of March 2020 should be erased from history. Books will be written about March; self-help books specifically. It was a clusterfuck of insanity and there is no other way to put it. It was during that particular clusterfuck that I wish to speak about. My beautiful pandemic lasted exactly one hundred days and it was in complete isolation, with the exception of my two-year-old daughter and my dog. When the one hundred day stretch began, I started a new job position remotely while caring for her. It was, in so many ways, the most beautiful experience. I even lived to tell the story.

Toilet Paper and Zombies

My true pandemic experience began the day after I was repatriated from Mexico to Canada. I had spoken to a family member before arriving in Canada and they told me, in a very serious tone, that it was the zombie apocalypse. I had hoped that description was a massive exaggeration, however, I had studied outbreaks long enough to know what was happening. I arrived home on a Saturday and much to my dismay, it was the zombie apocalypse. I think toilet paper apocalypse would be a more accurate term. Either way, it was complete chaos. The moment I left Mexico, I went from tropical sun gazer to topical hand sanitizer.

Lock Down

Aside from the toilet paper zombie problem, I came to the realization that my daughter would not be returning to daycare. As with everyone else, I had a toddler at home and needed to work. I have multiple immuno-compromised people in my family, therefore, I went into complete isolation with my daughter. During that time, I learned a new job and more than that, I learned an incredible amount about myself, my kiddo, our relationship and how I want to show up in this world. Sometimes we decide that we’re going to show up differently; I decided that as soon as I saw what was happening to the world. This is where the head shaving came in, I believe.

I wrote an article early in those days when I had a plan in place for how to manage work with a toddler. I would say a good majority of that plan worked, however, the parts that didn’t work backfired so badly that I am still not over it.

I had screen time as one of my planned activities. I controlled the amount of screen time my daughter had and limited it to Cosmic Kids Yoga and the occasional Paw Patrol. Previous to my hundred days, she had watched the occasional show on weekends and aside from that, had little interest. She liked NHL hockey and when that went into lock down too, I assumed screen time would become something she was indifferent about. I mean…there’s no hockey. What’s the point?

I absolutely cannot describe how quickly I watched my two year old deteriorate once screen time was introduced on a daily basis. It was a total transformation and now, when she sees a TV, she often remembers how sad it made her.

System Overload. Abort

The entire process only took about two weeks.

Spoiler alert – I no longer have a TV, cable or Netflix and my entire ‘entertainment’ unit that was in the living room has been replaced by a trampoline and a spaceship that I made out of a laundry basket.

As I noticed this immediate shift in her mood, her sleep and her overall mentality, I tried to control screen time. I tried to make rules around how often she could watch and stick to those rules. Although I did stick to them, every day there was at least one Paw Patrol-related tantrum. It made me feel extremely sad for her. I had no idea why she become so staggeringly addicted to TV but her grief was very disturbing. It was also very challenging because during the one hundred days, I was working on the COVID-19 response and was incredibly busy. The house was a mess, the TV had gone rogue and when Baby Shark entered the picture, I went off the deep end.

At a point, there was nothing on TV that made her happy. She couldn’t decide and each time I tried to pick something, she began to cry because something about it made her feel it was the wrong selection. There was no right selection. TV, as a whole, basically decimated her happiness.

Paw Patrol, Withdrawal Patrol

She started waking up at night and her sleep was generally disturbed; she usually sleeps for 12 hours and I’ve had no trouble whatsoever with sleep training. Suddenly nighttime was horrific. She became impatient. Angry. The moment she woke up, she asked for a TV show. She couldn’t focus on it at all, but if I turned it off then she had a melt down. I couldn’t rationalize this at all. I found myself feeling incredibly defeated and saying to her ‘WELL WHAT DO YOU WANT?! WHAT SHOW?!’. I couldn’t understand why there was constant sadness.

So that was the end of the TV, the cable; all the things. I will admit it was a hard transition for her; she continued to ask for TV and I continued to remind her that it made her sad. After a few days, she would say ‘TV make me sad’ and not ask for it. I’ve never allowed her to touch my iPhone and all technology seemed to be alluring after the experience of daily TV. I really analyzed this shift and in particular, what happened after I removed the entire screen time experience.

It became hard for her initially and then she went through the most incredible growth. Perhaps I found it so incredible because I was privileged enough to be the only one to observe it. It was only us. I watched her go through what I would describe as withdrawal and recovery.

Managing Me

I needed to be extremely strategic with her activities. It was also the greatest test of my patience I’ve ever had and I would not say it was a huge success. I continue to struggle with being patient enough and remembering that children are children and this experience is very scary for them too. They feel what we feel; the pandemic may be beyond their literal comprehension but the feeling of it is certainly present.

I began strategizing time with her, going for walks and figuring out what activity best kept her interest. I had teleconferences quite often and she had to learn to be quiet during that time. The most beautiful moments arose from this incredible difficulty; a new position at work, the middle of a pandemic, single mom isolated for one hundred days with a toddler and a true test of my ability to stay mentally healthy despite the circumstances around me.

As I’ve spoken about before, I’ve spent most of my life battling an eating disorder and subsequently, post traumatic stress disorder. These issues don’t go away during a crisis; they become amplified. All of the tools I learned over the years had to be used; I had to be the most vigilant about my health and wellness in order to take the best care of her.

Sparkles in the Darkness

During our one hundred days, she learned to say ‘I love you’. For the first time ever, I walked out of her bedroom and heard ‘I love you mommy’. My chest was itchy because I felt so much love. My beautiful baby; if I can keep her living and loving, then I will have made it. She learned to stay in her safe space, which is her bedroom. Initially, she could only spend about ten minutes alone and then she began tossing objects out the door. It didn’t take long for her to be ok for one hour. She learned the word virus. Then the concept of germs. Eventually, she began to understand that I have to work hard so we can stop the virus. And she started helping me.

She learned to empty the dishwasher and touch only her dishes. She cleaned. She played with her books and toys. We invented games and put hearts on everything. I taught her a bit of gymnastics and some cheerleading. We loved it. She became strong, smart and resourceful. It was amazing.

Watching Love

My parents read her bedtime stories over Facetime. This did involve bringing the screen in again, however, it didn’t have the same impact at all. The focus was entirely on the visit with her grandparents. They bought new books that she had never read; she was thrilled to sit on her little cushion, drink milk and listen to stories. My dad brought multiple stuffed animals to the couch with him for reading time so there was a real party there. He introduced them all each night for story time; the elephant, the mouse, the bunny and lined them all up beside him. It looked like an entire class of animals was listening to the story.

The most beautiful part of story time was watching my daughter hug my laptop. Every night after the Bunny Book or the Moon Book, my parents said goodnight and she wrapped her little arms around my computer as tightly as she could. What a special hug. She loved that reading time and it truly brought my parents and my daughter closer. The distance apart made space for creativity and an even deeper connection. My mom would sing her the same song she sang to me as a baby. My daughter now asks for it every night and when she soothes herself, she sings it to herself. My mom made the song up almost four decades ago. It’s one of those timeless melodies.

Becoming a Professional Musician

She learned the alphabet. Singing became a huge part of our lives. Luckily, I love singing and making up songs. She was toilet training as well and so there were many songs about poop. You might hear Poopy Bear or Come Out Poopy on the radio one day.

When I was in Mexico with her, she walked up a set of stairs all by herself. Not holding my hand; full confidence. By the end of the one hundred days, she could jump on the trampoline, we had formed some type of mom daughter stunting team, she dressed herself and did somersaults. I feel so lucky to have watched every detail of her learning. Every fall, every time she stood back up. This beautiful element of learning is often so slow and gradual that we don’t notice. We don’t notice when they finally say ‘L, M, N, O, P’ properly. I was privileged enough to see every beautiful moment. Every beautiful newness.

Beautiful Catastrophe

She learned a lot of life skills because the house looked like Toys R Us exploded inside it and I had a hard time cooking and managing household chores throughout all of the catastrophe. Often I had very late nights so that I could be with her during the day. I think many parents used this approach. I’d call it ‘Voluntary Pandemic Insomnia’.

During my one hundred days, I also had my elderly dog to take care of. While I want to believe she is a spring chicken, she is actually twelve and has no ACLs. She’s a true guide to me though; my reminder of love. For some reason, the dog also freaked right out about the pandemic. Maybe it was the whole zoonotic connection…I have no idea. Either way, the baby and the dog were at my ankles every single day as I worked, lived and did yoga. I moved in waves of total insanity to believing I could manage it. And I did manage it. It was beautiful. A beautiful catastrophe.

Enter Awareness

After noticing that I had become staggeringly impatient with both the pandemic-panicked dog and my daughter, I had to reassess how I was going to manage. Basically, I had to set boundaries for myself. I could easily worked twenty four hours a day, seven days per week and not run out of work. It’s not like the pandemic took a day off. Nor did we, as public servants.

This wall of impatience, defeat and frustration led to making better choices. I protected my time more wisely. Every day I made sure that I had scheduled time for my daughter and for my dog. And for myself. It was hard but I redefined ‘time for myself’ and we were happier.

Living My Best Life

One of the most interesting impacts of being in isolation for so long was my extremely impeccable health. Physically, I have never felt better. I was still very active with yoga and then biking (I got a mom bike with a baby bike seat and a sweet reflector for safety). I had an amazing Ashtanga Yoga community that went from 3D to 2D and continued to practice at regular times. It kept me stable and acted as the glue that kept my psyche together.

My daughter has always come to yoga practice with me and her focus continued to improve. Cosmic Kids Yoga did not help her focus. Learning to play on her mat, with full freedom to play as she wanted, and maintaining boundaries from my mat is what taught her focus. The simplest lesson; the hardest to do. Sit. Stay. It’s good for us all; at any age.

The more shocking aspect of this was the my two year old didn’t get sick once. She was weirdly healthy. Without any interaction with the outside world and my house sterilized to the same calibre as our containment laboratories, there was truly no infection. No illness.

The Antiviral Lifestyle

Although it is unrealistic to think that a completely illness-free life could be achieved in my lifetime, it did show me the enormous impact of the lock down. Children in daycare at age two are germ factories. My kid, along with every other kid out there, contracted all 200+ strains of the common cold last year. She also contracted H1N1, bacterial pneumonia and multiple ear infections. She did pretty well, overall. Every kid gets sick. It’s just how they build immunity.

Sickness is a good thing, to a degree. We need the microbial world to survive. It lives in us; we have plenty of happy bacteria living in our bodies. Saying that, giving the body and immune system a break from constant response efforts strengthens the system. It was a wonderful reprieve from a life of managing runny noses, coughing and being sick myself. We both felt fucking awesome for those one hundred days.

Slow Down

We walked. Slowly. Before the pandemic, my little one was just learning to walk. Now she can run and ride a bike. I was the only lucky person to teach her that and I think it is so special. I walked around the neighbourhood with her close in hand, observing the silence of our city and empty neighbourhood. There was a stillness around me that I’ll never forget. A settling in, combined with a feeling of uncertainty. It was an incredible time to be alive. To see the impact; moment by moment.

We painted a heart together for the Hearts in the Window movement. Slowly other hearts started arriving in my neighbourhood. The weather improved. People began waving. I have never felt such profound gratitude from a wave; strangers reminding me that we’re still ok. We’re alive. I’m not alone. I have never experienced such friendliness. It was a gift to wave; to see another person. My daughter happily said hello to everyone as we both learned to appreciate human connection on a far deeper level.

One Hundred Days of Learning

We had a few injuries; both of us. Minor injuries that brought me great fear because I did not want to go to an emergency room. I had first aid supplies prepared; every medication we would need. I sought medical advice from my parents and family members over the phone. I fixed cuts, blisters, teeth through lips and a potential broken nose (the somersault didn’t end well). I spent time learning more about camping so that I could take my Boler into a forest. So I could really camp and cook; swim and live in the bush. And I did. A couple of times! We had a wonderful time together and now, my two year old can drop the jack on my A frame and use a screw driver to dig a tent pole hole. I remembered life in so many forms when the whole world had to slow down.

Every friend that waved from the window, every bedtime story read over Facetime; every Zoom party with friends from all over the globe. It was a beautiful time that was layered in grief. I believe that polarity can exist simultaneously; grief and fear weaved together with gratitude and joy. I think as a global community, this pandemic brought out the best and worst of human nature. It’s rawest form; our most primitive reactions and urges were unleashed and to many, a surprise to see that they existed at all.

Together

I never thought I would spend such intimate time with my daughter. Before the one hundred days, we had weekends. We lived a busy life. She attended daycare and our time in the evenings was wonderful, but brief. Nothing could compare to our one hundred days. I took photos of what we did; our projects and creations. I cried at my computer when I couldn’t figure out how to take care of my family and do my job at the same time. I cried in the bathroom when I was angry at myself for acting reactivity. My daughter cried when she could not see her grandparents. Even the dog cried. Not sure why. We did it all though. Together.

We smiled too. We lived attentively. We watched one another. I shifted in so many ways; from my view on how I want to parent all the way to my spiritual beliefs and beyond. I have never lived in the now, the present moment, with more depth. With that came the deepest grief and the most beautiful moments. I wouldn’t change either.

The Feeling of Silence

One day, I walked outside in my background and everyone in the neighbourhood was sitting. No one was close, but everyone was out. People smiled and waved. I had never met so many of my neighbours. These connections remain strong today.

There was darkness. Darkness and silence. I have been on more than one silent retreat and nothing can compare to the silence around me during those one hundred days. My only comparison is the terrorist attacks in the United States on September 11th, 2001. I wrote about my experience in Translate Reality 2019 Edition; and about the moments of profound silence on the afternoon of the attacks. I was living in Washington, D.C.; a very busy place on any normal day. The silence that day was palpable. Thick. It gripped my throat when I walked outside.

I noticed the same silence; the same thick air during the lock down. Most of the world was in lock down and my life was solely work, eat, sleep and of course, my roommates (toddler and pup). I rolled out of bed and went to my desk to work. I left my desk when I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore and went back to bed. I tried to go for walks once it warmed up and the city was invisible. No cars. No movement. It felt as if I was walking in an abandoned city, however, knowing that every single person was in their home made the emptiness feel even more empty.

And in that, I grew. I fell in and out of depression but never too deeply to turn my focus away from work or parenting or surviving. It was a time of suffering and a reminder that each moment, no matter how brief, is a gift. A moment can never be captured. It is a one time deal. And so, I began to deepen my lens further and allow myself to fall into the reality around me. The full catastrophe.

My love for my family has only strengthened and as we go into the coming months, I will remember that there were beautiful moments. Moments that will be etched in me forever. Moments I will never get back and am so lucky to have witnessed and felt. These moments are engraved inside me forever and I never want to forget. Because only I saw them. As with every moment, I suppose.

A moment can pass like the wind or hit you like a tidal wave. It was only in my one hundred days of isolation that I learned the true growth and gratitude that are left when the tidal wave recedes. That is, if you stay standing when it hits. Then, have the awareness and courage to watch it decimate life as you know it. Only then, can you truly appreciate the sun once the wave returns to the ocean. Letting the wave wash over you, no matter how painful, is the only way to know how it feels to live without that wave.

Day 101

On day one hundred and one, my daughter went back to daycare. And life began in a new way. My beautiful baby girl; a pool of memories from our beautiful pandemic. One hundred days of it. I will tell the story to my grandchildren when I am old. That the pandemic was heartbreaking and in those cracks and breaks, the light came in. That I let it hit me every day, like a new ripple of the same storm. And in each ripple, there was a sparkle. A glimpse of the sun, if I could notice it.

Together we are stronger. True togetherness comes from the heart; not from geography.

Much love and safety to all of humanity.