I sit here at my kitchen island (the beautiful one that my dad built) at an hour in the morning where the only ones awake are my husband and Jesus. Jesus because He is All Powerful and Almighty and would never take His eye off of His beloved; and my husband because, even though he knows he is at risk of being laid off in a moment’s notice, he is working from home diligently during his 12 hour shift, making sure that many transport trucks across Canada have the fuel they need to keep people like us stocked piled with all of our necessities.

I am awake because I have realized what has been creeping up on me for the past few days. I am not okay. I am not okay and I’ve been fighting it.

At the end of February what I thought was a common chest cold raged into pneumonia, mainly because I could not get a doctor to see me because of my symptoms. When I finally got medical treatment I was past the worst of it, but it was the sickest I had ever been. My lingering cough has kept me isolated for well beyond the 14 days given the fluid protective measures, rightly being taken by governments, organizations and businesses everywhere.

For the past months we have billeted a wonderful young hockey player who has devoted his life to trying to make the pros. He works incredibly hard, is incredibly focused and has sacrificed many things to pursue his dream. He is in the final stages of his junior career and looking for the big contract. We could offer little condolences as he packed up his room and car – directed by the league to be going home within 24 hours due to the suspension, and now full cancellation, of the rest of the season. Draft eligible, this will have a massive impact on his chances of realizing his lifelong dream.

I’ve been a social worker for 25 years and am unashamedly fueled by striving for justice for children who see themselves in the care system or justice system. They have rights – and when they are at their lowest time – dealing with trauma, isolation and separation they deserve to get their needs met in every way. For the past 10 days I have seen that slipping away – and my ability to influence change slipping away with it. I cannot stand up to the people who are deciding that children should be cut off from seeing loved ones and being taken to a locked room for quarantine because an adult around them feels they are ‘exhibiting symptoms’ – all in the name of Public Health. I cannot and will not stop advocating for the marginalized; but it feels different right now. It feels like I’m talking to the wind because I know that very little is going to happen in these current times.

I can jump up and down and scream and shout and stamp my feet but the reality is this – people are dying and addressing that has to be the #1 priority. So as a result, many things, and many people, get sidelined. Issues that are critical to the ones I work with are not seen as important right now. And I get it – but I don’t like it and it simply isn’t fair.

I am not okay.

My children (23 and 18) get laid off from work. I initially breathe a sigh of relief, happy that they are both still living at home so at least they do not have to worry about how they are going to support themselves. And then, within a week, my relief turns to self-flagellation as I realize how much I have fed the raging furnace of entitlement over the course of their lives. Not being in work is clearly not a big deal to them BECAUSE they don’t have to worry about supporting themselves. As babies, I was vigilant in ensuring that they form healthy attachments and a secure base so they learn to trust the world and not worry about things going through life. I guess I didn’t stop at the right time and that window of opportunity has slammed shut – the evidence of this being laid bare when my suggestion to apply for the over 100,000 jobs that are being created in supermarkets and warehouses is met with incredulous looks (‘I’m not working in the middle of the night’). Something I really cannot understand as at least one of them is up most of the night anyways. I draw lines in the sand in my mind – if their 54 year old father ends up stocking shelves at the local Sobey’s they will be right behind him. I’m curious to see how my thinking will transfer to reality.

So I prepare to start another day working from home – grateful to still be in work but not feeling overly optimistic of being able to do my job as I would like. And I still hear my husband steadily on the phone downstairs, staring at three screens with mind-boggling numbers, doing his part to ensure the continuation of the supply chain, knowing two of his colleagues got laid off last night, with more to possibly come. He just gets his letter of confirmation that he is part of an essential service so a glimmer of reassurance, but with such a fluid situation anything can happen.

I am mandated, I tell myself. My job is written in legislation – I am safe. The words run quietly in the back of my mind like anti-virus software, slightly slowing my executive functioning. Funnily enough my worry is not about my mortgage, or bills, it is about the children. If me and my team go – then noone will be around to make sure that these children and young people have a spot at the table. Noone will make sure that decisions about them are not being made without them. I wipe away tears of feeling overwhelmed at the thought.

So. I have my cry and then I move on. My tears are at the cross. Everything is poured out. It’s all there – He has it all. Jesus. The one who came to save us will not leave us now. It’s not going to happen. This I know. It’s crept up on me and I’ve felt the burden and I’ve recognized that I’m not okay. The only thing to do then is to engage with it, pour it out, and then move on. Getting stuck in a rut is not helpful for anyone.

So, I am not okay, but I pour it out to the One who takes it all and it leaves me room to breathe, and think, and feel. It gives me space to see beyond my circumstances, the ability to dream, look to the future (even if the future is only this afternoon), and ultimately realize that the only thing I can control right now is my actions and my state of mind. And I can do that.

I hope you can too.