![]() ![]() clapping hands drum or plastic bucket sing tap the desk. Divide children into groups and allocate a 'sound ' to each group e.g.The future is still uncertain, but what can you do? Look for the good. I decided to stop wallowing and find more ways to contribute, to feel relevant again. I started looking at part-time graphic design jobs to supplement my income and be a better use of my time. I updated my website plugins and ran a security check. I decided now was the best time to reevaluate what was still working with my business and what hadn’t been working for some time (or was literally out of date, like the dozen or so invitation albums I threw out over the weekend). I threw out the desk chair and started revamping my office space into more of a living-working-meeting space. So I took it as a sign to tear down the entire desk area. A wheel broke off and dumped me straight onto the floor. And one day, it came in the form of my desk chair literally falling out from underneath me. Historically, I have never been able to stay down for long, wallowing, and I have found that action has consistently been my greatest ally.īut apparently I needed a catalyst. Not all at once, but a little bit at a time. Then finally a couple of weeks ago, in true Annie form, I bounced back. I was trying to “roll with it,” albeit with a little less pizazz than I had when I was ten. Deep down, I knew we were going to be OK, so I tried to embrace the good and find comfort in small daily victories. I continue to be blessed that my husband is employed in a sector that is even more needed at the moment. I sat within a spectrum of discontent for weeks, not remembering what real joy and excitement felt like, but reminding myself to be grateful that my family and friends hadn’t been hit hard by the virus and that we were all staying healthy. And every day came like Groundhog Day, the same as the one before it. I also felt like a failure in my business for not being able to make something out of nothing. I developed anxiety about going to the store for groceries, worried I wouldn’t keep the right amount of distance or that I’d accidentally break some sort of new social code. I felt despair at not being able to make plans, see friends, or hug family members who didn’t live in our household. I read news article after news article, and as the understanding dawned on me about how serious this truly was becoming, I began to get depressed. Then it hit me how real this actually was. I was convinced it was all a non-issue, a big misunderstanding. And I was sure we didn’t even need to wear masks at the grocery, and that this would all just blow over and life would return to normal “definitely by June or July” (which seemed so far away back in March). I was convinced this was a small blip on the radar, a temporary setback. I was angry and felt it wasn’t fair, especially to “the little guys” like me who had been fortunate enough to make a small business succeed even through the 2007-2008 recession, and who now saw no income coming in but didn’t quite meet the parameters for the small business bailout plan.Īround the same time as the anger, denial set in. But then as weeks turned into months, my emotions ran the gamut. At first when things slowed down I was relieved for the break in routine–the government-mandated respite from work. And hoping that we will be able to pick up somewhere near where we left off.ĭuring this time at home, I’m fairly certain I’ve gone through most of the stages of grief. ![]() We are all putting our lives on hold, essentially agreeing to put off celebrating milestones, crossing our fingers tightly and holding fast to the belief that when The Future arrives, it’s going to be bright. I can’t blame anyone, not even myself, since it’s fairly impossible to plan large gatherings when there is no way of knowing what the future looks like during a pandemic. Business isn’t just slow, it’s nonexistent. I have met with exactly one couple for wedding invitations in six months. Back in the rosy naïveté of early 2020, I couldn’t possibly know how hard COVID-19 would hit (demolish) certain sectors, and how many small businesses would be changed forever by it. If you had asked someone back then if they had their mask with them or mentioned the term “social distance” they would have looked at you like you were speaking in tongues. The prevailing lyric in that tune was “You’ve got to roll with it, baby…” and that seems to be what I’m finally doing, after staggering through the last six months wondering what the future is going to look like.īack in early February, very few people could have predicted what was coming down the pike. I’m showing my age here, but there was a song in the late 80s by Steve Winwood that I used to dance around the house singing to, jumping up and down off the furniture, using a wooden spoon as my microphone. ![]()
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