Time passes. Everything is different and everything is the same. I am at home with my family in our new rhythm. The alarm goes off a little later. Dave sits at his IKEA hack workstation in our living room. Someone looks at someone else, they scream. I yell at them to stop. Just stop. I leave the room and the screams return.
I grade the previous day’s work and begin to chart out the next week before I need to teach my first class of the day. I suddenly remember and run out of my office to locate an ipad and get the kindergartner into his class. My third grade reads, plays, attends class, but fights doing her work. The 5th grader is in his room playing LEGOs. I assume he is fine. I hope his school work is going fine. I need it to be fine.
Everything is different and everything is the same. The days bleed into one another. I notice the quick quiver around my mouth return. I’m stuttering more. I make a note to remember to find time to lie down during the day.
Mental notes don’t always work when you are stressed and surviving. Frustrated with how a remote science unit is going, I chuck it out and start from scratch. I work non-stop, but 5.5 hours later I have something that leaves me satisfied. Students are equally pleased with the change and eagerly embrace it.
5.5 hours nonstop in a wooden chair, bent over a desk, typing, thinking, researching. My system can’t cope. The tremors take over. I can’t speak. I lie down on the bed as both arms jump up and down from my sides. I lay in the dark and cry and wait. I try to tell my brain that it’s okay. I’m not in danger, but it doesn’t listen.
The next day I’m shaking from the moment I wake up. I can barely speak. My eyes are blinking frantically. I have three classes to Zoom. This is not okay. I greet my homeroom. They can tell something is wrong. I remind them that even though it looks bad, I’m not in pain. I tell them I’m cancelling this class so that I can lie down and be able to teach them math in a little over an hour.
5 days pass. Everything is different and everything is the same. It just won’t stop. I’ve been doing well for 7 weeks. I haven’t had a flare since we first went to remote learning 8 weeks ago. I had forgotten what it’s like to have the quick non-stop facial twitches. Instead of the minor stutter of most nights, it’s a strong stutter during the day with speaking becoming nearly impossible at night.
I feel broken. Worn down and broken. I go to my craniosacral appointment. Relief washes over me as I slowly feel the tremors cease. As I sit up, I am grateful. My face has stopped twitching, my hand is not shaking. I stutter but it’s better. My body and brain have returned to their new normal. It’s feels so good to be functional again.
Everything is different and everything is the same.
My hair continues to grow and gray unabated. It’s been 6 months since it was cut. The ends are so coarse they have begun to dread. As I take out my ponytail, it catches and tangles each night. I need to do something.
Practicing safe social distancing, a mask covering my face, I find make my way to the hair care aisle of the grocery store in search of purple shampoo. I have only a vague idea of what I am looking for based on a Google search the night before. Just as I am about to give up, I notice a silver bottle with purple top. It has a weird name that I am too tired to try to read. The bottle says it’s for gray/silver hair. Many of the purple shampoos seem aimed at blondes. I am not blonde. There is only one bottle. I snag it and its conditioner companion.
In the shower that night, I take a deep breath and apply. It doesn’t smell weird. That’s good. Reviews of one brand consistently commented on a bad odor. I rinse my hair feels strange. I believe it’s what others would call “smooth.” I try the conditioner and even leave it in for 1-2 minutes as recommended. My hair feels sooo different.
Once I finish my shower, I brush out my hair. It’s not as frizzy. Less coarse. The curls are more defined. The color seems softer somehow. What is this stuff? I return to the shower to read the label. Jhirmack.
OH MY GOD! I’ve got Jhirmack bounce back beautiful hair!!!
Despite my new and improved 1980s jingle hair, my hair is still a beast to be tamed. I need to cut my hair. My husband and I have been together for almost 20 years and never once have I let him cut my hair. He got one cut from me 20 years ago and I swore never again. Fast forward to life under a shelter in place order, I’ve now cut it twice in 8 weeks.
I watch youtube videos about cutting your own hair. No way am I going to do it myself. My hair is too thick and wild to try to just get it wet and let Dave cut it. I find a ponytail method I think will work. I make him watch the 2 minute video.
I stand in the bathroom taking deep breaths. I put my hair in a low ponytail and ease the band down. I hand Dave the scissors. I stand still and anxiously await the crisp sound of scissors through hair. The first snip. There’s no going back.
The whole thing takes less than 5 minutes. I remove the hairband and survey the results. I’m pleasantly surprised. I snip the slightest bit of the front of my hair. I can deal with this while I wait for hair salons to open again. I did not let Dave learn to thin hair or try layers. Free of 3 raggedy inches, it looks better. My hair remains an unending battle.
Everything is different and everything is the same.
The governor has announced a loosening of restrictions. Parks are open, but not playgrounds or bathrooms or picnic tables. More cars are on the road. Masks in public will be mandatory. The world is divided. A man wears a Klan hat as a mask. Unarmed black men are shot. Liberals want to continue to practice social distancing. Conservatives want to reopen the economy. Everyone is scared. Science versus fear. Science versus politics. Us versus them.
Everything is different and everything is the same.