This weekend I had “a bit of a wobble.” Someone said that on Instagram the other day, and I thought it perfectly described my feelings this weekend. I was having a bit of an isolation wobble. Dwindling motivation, growing anxiety, and a sense of longing for… something. To be honest, I didn’t have just one wobble, but a couple of pretty wobbly days. And you know, when I am lucky enough to be safe and well, and my family are all safe and well, and have enough to eat, it’s quite difficult to justify getting the wobbles. Which makes me feel guilty for feeling sad, which of course then makes me want to give myself a good shake. Sheesh. Seems the wobbles cover a wide range of emotions.
I love that shot above. It was taken on the farm back home by my niece Krista in 2007. A lifetime ago, but we just didn’t know it at the time. My stepfather was still alive, he and my mum still lived in the old farmhouse, my sister and her husband and kids still lived next door to Mum and Lloyd. The world seems to have been a kinder and greener place then. Although I know that’s just me looking at the past through my rose-coloured glasses. But I think that’s what I was yearning for on the weekend. Some semblance of the past, when my family were all together.
I think that maybe, if I could, I’d go back even further, to the time before my brother’s operation, when he could still walk, and his life was good. When Hubby and I were home in the summer, we’d have family dinners to celebrate Mum’s birthday. The table always groaned with the weight of all the pot luck dishes. Sisters and brothers and brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews, and their boyfriends and spouses, and even a small great-grandchild or two in the last few years milled about, carried bowls and platters of food inside. Then filled their plates and headed back outside for stories, and laughter, and smart-arse comments. Then there was cake and tea, and lots and lots of dishes to do.
We don’t do those extended family get-togethers anymore. We’re too spread apart geographically now. And my sisters’ and brother’s families are grown up and have families of their own. One niece is going to be a grandmother soon. I guess that will make me a great-great-aunt. Time doesn’t stand still. Even though sometimes I wish it would.
That’s why I was a bit wobbly on the weekend. Our days are quiet. We’re not going anywhere. Time seems to be standing still in our isolation bubble. And that affords me way too much time to indulge my penchant for dreaming of the past. And that’s why I’ve written this post. Analyzing my wobble, so to speak. Because I think it can sometimes help to examine how we’re feeling and try to put our finger on exactly what we ARE feeling. Name that emotion.
So. I was feeling a bit lonely. And as a result missing those days back on the farm. And, for most of the weekend, good books, cups of tea, or even toasted hot cross buns slathered in butter could not rouse me from my wallowing. Thoughts of blog posts, new outfit combinations, books to research, new and interesting dishes Hubby and I might make, bike rides to plan, or garden projects that Hubby has dreamed up for us to do together did not interest me. For a couple of days, anyway.
Then this morning I awoke to sunshine. And the wobble had passed. Hubby and I had our tea in the sun room. And then he headed outside and I spent an hour on the phone to my old friend Debbie who lives back in New Brunswick. We chortled, and reminisced, and moaned about our hair. Oh, it was a most reviving phone call.
Then I sat down at the computer to write a blog post. Not this one. But this is what came out when I started typing. All about my weekend wobble.
Here’s what else I did this morning. Found all kinds of photos of Hubby and me, on various wonderful trips. To South America, and the Balkans, and even canoeing in Algonquin Park. These pictures made me smile.
You know, since I’ve been writing this, I’ve been thinking of a children’s toy that was popular in the seventies. Weebles were funny little round dolls shaped like pears, and weighted on the bottom so that when they wobbled and fell over, they always bounced back up. I still remember the advertising jingle on television: “Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down.”
So I guess my lesson is that we will have a wobble or two, feel the occasional bout of isolation anxiety, during these difficult days. But we don’t need to beat ourselves up. We’re like Weebles. We will definitely wobble, but we won’t fall down.
Or not for long, anyway. 🙂