For once I had my word picked early for the month. I was ready with February's word about halfway through January. I could feel February coming. Normally, I love this time of year. The change over between terms 1 & 2 always felt fresh as a classroom teacher and when I moved into the library and discovered the OLA Super Conference it was like a much needed reset and recharge to face the last half of the school year.
In a normal year, I would already be in Toronto, at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre. I would have attended a few sessions, had lunch with friends, perhaps even met an author or two. This year I have made a list of the sessions I hope to one day catch up that I missed through out the day today. I did catch half of one yesterday on my lunch and wrote down a few new book titles and authors to look into but it's not the same.
And I know that there are many, many people with much bigger problems than not attending a conference in person.
But it seems to me that as we approach (quite quickly) the one year mark of the pandemic and with what feels like very little light as the end of the tunnel that perhaps these feelings I am having are indicative of something bigger. The #EduKnitNight crew shared and discussed this article awhile back and I think it pretty accurately describes what so many of us are feeling.
Depleted.
Struggle.
Exhausted.
Uncertain.
Hopeless. Helpless.
Right now, as much as I want to attend sessions for the super conference and interact with friends, it feels like another add on. It feels like something else to feel guilty about.
Being home with young children through this has been an experience and many people have asked how we are doing and how we are coping. For the post part, I'd say really well. We don't push our kids to turn on cameras or attend online school meets if they need a break. We get them outside. They have free time galore to craft, play, read, watch TV or play video games. I have described our parenting style as "free range". There are very few routines or rules- help others out, clean up your mess, brush your teeth.
We have also worked hard to cultivate family evenings to cherish the time that we have together now. My husband isn't arriving home from a 1.5 hour commute late to dinner and just in time to help with bedtime. We aren't rushing out the door to an activity. We listen to music at dinner and eat at the table almost every night. The children set and clear the table. We take turns cooking. We play board games or Mario Kart after dinner. We colour or craft all together. We watch movies and stay up a little later because no one has to commute or get dropped off at a day care in the morning.
And I allow myself one evening a week to join in with #EduKnitNight or a webinar if I feel like it. The girls are very protective of our evening time and do not like when they see me on the computer.
But with the super conference here and started I do have certain obligations for some of the sessions. Others I want to be there to support friends or learn from other library sectors. But the entire time I will feel guilty or I will just skip the ones I can and tell myself I will catch up later with the recording.
But I won't.
Because I have playlists and links and recordings galore I need/want to go back to and watch... but they are just another thing on my to-do list that I can't seem to get to right now. (Or ever.)
So what is my word for February then?
Permission.
I give myself permission so miss sessions that look amazing. I give myself permission to miss one evening with the girls and know it will be okay. I give myself permission to feel depleted. I give myself permission to go on long walks to listen to an audiobook or a podcast and not feel guilty. I give myself permission to watch movies on the couch with the girls and not finish my never ending to-do list.
I give myself permission to grieve what feels like another loss in a year of losses.
