Parenting Style: SURVIVALIST (Part 2)
- Vanessa Walker
- Jul 4, 2021
- 4 min read
The days between the “Shelter in Place“ order and Harry’s death seem to blur together. I spent my spring break in a state of near panic, wondering how I was going to teach for eight hours a day while also taking care of my five-year-old. It would have been one thing if our then-president acted as a “comforter in chief,” but he wasn’t.
Side note: I’m a leftist and I only have so
much faith in our elected leaders of either party. That being said, I can loo
k admire the way Dubya comforted the nation after 9/11 and at the way Obama comforted me after Sandy Hook. We didn’t get that this time. My candidate—Bernie Sanders was about as close as we got.
I spent an entire week shell-shocked because I didn't know what to do. My job was demanding under the best of circumstances and now I would have to essentially home school and serve as a teacher, mentor, and comforter for some of these kids who relied on me to have answers. It’s only now that I can fully appreciate the unfairness and impossibility of it all. How was I supposed to be a good mother, teacher, and wife while also keeping my mental health steady? I was so fortunate that I had been seeing my therapist Hannah for two years and that I already had a psychiatrist to help adjust my meds as needed. I couldn't take comfort in my parish because suddenly it was closed. I found myself curled up in bed with my cats Sadie and Veznoot thinking and worrying about all the other parents who still had to work and didn't have child care and didn't have access to mental health care, and, and and...
My situation sucked, but I found myself thinking of others more than my own situation. Hell, I felt guilty because I had it easier (financially) than others. But isn't that what we're taught as mothers? We grin and bear it because there's always someone who has it worse and if we dare to complain, years of gaslighting take over and suddenly we can't acknowledge that sometimes life just sucks.
My mom took Aine that first week of virtual school, which was beyond helpful. That was the week I binged Tiger King and found myself drinking almost immediately after my last classes. I told myself that it would only be a few weeks and that I would be fine. I got to teach in yoga pants so "WHAT IS BIG DEAL?" I was able to take walks and do puzzles at night. Yes, having Aine home would make things difficult, but I would be able to make it. I was home in my safe space and if I kept Aine occupied enough we would be able to make it right? The simple answer was more-or-less. I was able to negotiate a deal with my boss that I wouldn't take an extended summer break if it meant that none of the gaps in my schedule were filled so I could spend that time with Aine.
Some days to worked.
Other days I found myself chasing Aine out of the kitchen while I was trying to teach.
There were times when she'd sit in on my class and learn about Geography with my sixth-grader. There were other times when she got to "meet" the students I talked so much about. She briefly talked to Harry--my favorite student--even if she didn't get to see him.
Pictures from the time seemed Pinterest-perfect, but life was far from it. We had to start wearing masks to the few places we could go and even worse was the toll it took on Aine. We had always been close as a family of three, but overnight Chris and I became her only playmates. She understood that a "sickness" kept us home, but she didn't understand why it was so bad. I watched Last Week Tonight religiously, but I couldn't tell her about the refrigerated trucks, the lack of PPE, or the fact that there was no cure in sight. I've never been one to shy away from certain truths, but this was too horrible to share. All I could tell her that we couldn't see her best friend because of "the sickness." We couldn't go to the park "because of the sickness." My daily allowance of Klonopin was bumped from two to three tablets a day, and that was to stay functional.
I've mentioned that I'm an introvert and I love my solitude, but I was taken away from my support system overnight. All of the friends I made over the previous four years were suddenly images on a screen or text messages. I missed Kelsey who always looked at my clothes and asked "Is it a they-day today?" I missed Tara who always validated my frustration. I missed Alec and Seamus and the talks about gender, politics, and philosophy. I missed being the kooky hippie teacher who called everyone "fam." I missed my pronouns being affirmed. I missed "my kids" too, especially Harry. He was slowly slipping away from me and stopped taking classes online, and I just missed him. I missed talking to his mother about how he was doing.
One day, I bought a big stack of postcards on Amazon to send to my students. I thought that some of them might enjoy a connection to life before COVID. I addressed them to most of my students but as I went to mail them, a voice inside said "Don't forget Harry." But more on that later...
We managed to make it through two months. I was still stressed as hell, but my medicine was helping. I'd start the morning with a full tab of Klonopin, then have one at lunch, and another before bed. Aine was asking less about the outside world and why things were so different. A certain sense of normalcy set in.
That was before Memorial Day.
That was before Jude.
Comments