I'm sure most of us can recall, with great clarity, where we were when the world "stopped moving" – 18 months ago in March of 2020. Two weeks to flatten the curve! That's what they told us, then. Of course, none of us could have known or been prepared for just how wrong those projections would be.
I'll admit, there were days where I woke up feeling completely disoriented. I had a plan for myself, for my business. I had goals – they seemed to stare me down from my vision boards, asking when I might get back to them.
But how could I focus on myself? My daughter is immune compromised at severely high risk for COVID. My son had a job that he had to leave the house for every morning. I moved my daughter and me to my mother's home where I knew I could protect her best, away from the big city life of KW Region – but this meant tons of time spent away from my husband.
Evening chats cuddled up on the couch had been replaced with face-time calls that really didn't feel the same.
One Saturday morning, I decided to follow along with one of the most prominent trends to come from "lock-down life" – making bread. To know me is to know the kitchen and I are not exactly friendly, so this was quite the undertaking. I was determined, though. This bread was a goal I could work toward and achieve – and I so needed to achieve it.
You can imagine the ugly cry, tear-stained shirt, meltdown that occurred when I made it to the pantry and realized I didn't have any yeast. Or when I learned that the yeast wouldn’t have been kept in the pantry, rather the fridge, to begin with?! I'm not a baker. There is no reason I would have ever had yeast. Yet, at that moment, I felt utterly defeated.
That was when I realized the fear, the guilt, the resentment – it wasn't because I didn't have yeast, and it wasn't because I wouldn't be making bread that morning.