You’re in a Time-Out

Yesterday was a turning point day for me, I think, in this whole quarantine situation. I finally got to a point of surrender. Early into this dire coronavirus situation, a friend sent a funny text of a meme that suggested that perhaps God had put us all in a time-out. Now I believe in an all-loving God. I don’t think God is out to punish us. I think that God just lets us have free will and often allows the consequences of our free will to happen, but at the same time God promises to be with us and to comfort us and to help us, every step of the way. If we allow God to do it.

So yesterday, I got to thinking back, to when my children were little and I doled out time-outs. Time-outs really weren’t meant for punishment. Time-outs were meant to stop the frenetic behavior, the tantrum, the out of control conduct, right in its tracks, so that my child had a chance to calm down, to not escalate the situation, and to bring himself or herself back into balance. When I put one of my children into a time-out, there were all sorts of first reactions. They would cry and scream and rail against it. I remember one time, my eldest son and I both pushed against either side of his bedroom door, for what felt like an eternity. An angry, curly-headed, three-year-old ginger little boy is a lot stronger than you would guess. And so is a frazzled, at-her-limit, young mother. After the denial and anger about the time-out, my child would then start bargaining with me, promising to change their behavior, if I just let time-out be over, RIGHT NOW. This begging and bargaining was usually still loud, and angry and full of cries and self-pity. There was nothing “even keel” about it. After the bargaining and arguing for the time-out to be over, a reticence would set in. The child would sulk and pout, with a teary, “Why me?” expression on his or her face, as they sat in a corner of their dismay. And then when the cry shivers finally slowed down and stopped, my child would come around to a calmer, more peaceful emotional place and would even start amusing himself or herself in their little corner of the world, knowing that the time-out would soon be over and they could then head back out to play.

When you really consider it, a “time-out” really looks like a mini grief cycle. Yesterday, I think I finally came to the “acceptance” stage of the coronavirus and all of the consequences the coronavirus has brought to our global society. Acceptance is not the same as approval. Acceptance is the surrendering to “what is.” Yesterday, I donned my gloves and my mask and shopped in my grocery store, and I accepted the many empty shelves that have never been that empty before, in my lifetime. I didn’t hold my breath as I moved around the store, feeling the anxiety creeping up quickly, tightening my neck and my shoulders, as I shopped. I actually felt more peaceful at the grocery store yesterday, than I have since this whole thing began. Yesterday, I rode my bike all around my neighborhood. I don’t ride my cute, old, beach cruiser style bike very often, but every time that I do ride it, I ask myself why I don’t do it more often. Riding it around, at an easy-going, non-purposeful pace, is so enjoyable. Yesterday, I held my typically not-very emotional daughter, as she cried and cried about missing her friends, missing her tennis season, missing her old way of life. I didn’t try to find a way to make it better. I couldn’t. I knew that she needed this release, so I just held her and I let her know that it was okay to cry. I accepted her pain and loss. I surrendered to the idea that as her mom, I can’t fix it all, but I can hold her and I can love her and I can let her know that I understand. Nothing changed in our circumstances yesterday. We are still in quarantine. There is no vaccine for the coronavirus yet. There are so many “unknowns” still swirling around this very precarious situation, but yesterday, I didn’t cry and scream about it. I didn’t pretend that it wasn’t happening and that life was “normal.” I didn’t try to find a loophole to bargain my way out of the situation, and I didn’t lay in bed all day. Yesterday, I shopped with a mask on, biked around a particularly quiet neighborhood and I held my daughter as she cried. I accepted the situation and I felt more at peace than I have felt since this all began. I suppose “time-outs”, much like the cycle of grief, have a good purpose. They are not punishment. Time-outs are a chance to get back to a healthy center and to really reflect on what is most important to you, when all of the emotional charge has dissipated. Surrender and acceptance . . . . much like “plop” and “fizz”, what a relief it is. Surrender, accept and feel the relief.