Let me set the scene for you: I’m at the dining room table, there is a 9 year old next to me begging for help with his Nintendo controller, my husband is on a conference call in the other room, my daughter is “doing her school work” while loudly video chatting her friends. I have school apps, news, email, a grant application, and text apps all open on my computer as I try to triage all the work that is coming in. I just managed to take a photo of my youngest's poster for the science fair that never happened, so at least the grandparents can witness all his effort. I am working, along with many others, to help make sure that everyone eats during this health crisis, and I’ve been tasked with many parts of that puzzle over the last few weeks. I just got off the phone with my sister. Her husband’s brother was just hospitalized, likely with the virus, although the test won’t be back for at least a week. He is on oxygen and is thankfully stable, and we were working through the emotions of the situation as well as the laundry list of to-dos: who to call, how to help, etc.
This is the point at which I sit down to write this blog post, and believe me, it is not lost on me for a second that I am incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to try and balance all this from home. We live in a tiny apartment that may be small for four people but is more than enough, we have plenty of food (and toilet paper!), my husband and I both have work we are able to continue to do from home, we take regular hikes as a family, and we have our health. For all of you out there struggling—struggling to make ends meet, struggling to stay healthy, struggling with loneliness, or just struggling to stop obsessively reading the news. I see you. We are in this together.
If you need help, ask for help.
If you have help to give, volunteer.