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So often I read about how healthy it is to journal or create or whatever to keep your mind healthy. So, so often. I've made the terrible mistake of following all these hippy dippy, soul searching, heart filling, human bettering type people on insta. They make me think, 'Yes! Yes, once Emilio is asleep, I will start to write a book. I will do that thing.' But then, you know, Emilio is still awake at 10pm and I want to stick my head in the oven because I know he'll be up at 3am and I have a full day teaching ahead (at home) and loads of planning to do, Seesawing to check, resources to make, etc. So, blogging has been on my mind but has been outwith my physical and mental capabilities for the most part. As has journalling. Do people actually still journal?? Is this what this is? Who knows.
We are on day 101 of one of the strictest lockdowns in the world. The way our lexicon has evolved baffles me from time to time. Lockdowns. What the actual? I used to laugh at myself when I said things like, 'Why are you licking your shoe?' and now I'm just bamboozled that my kids are regularly saying, 'J, you're on mute. You need to unmute. Your camera is off.', you know, during a phonics lesson. What is this world? I think it needs to mute. Mute coronavirus. Just mute it.
Although lockdown was very much still under military control and one was likely to be arrested for breaking it in some small way, I decided to move to the beach. Literally within about a week, I'd made the decision, found a place and started the process. Now, those who know me well would not be entirely surprised; spontaneity is one of my more prominent characteristics... But, I think, during a global pandemic, with the number of beings and belongings and logistics and barriers in my way, one would caution a bit of consideration here. Nope. I'm doing it. End of. And so I did. Life in Lima was hideous. Solely survival. Although we were very fortunate to have a large apartment and a garden, the surrounding neighbourhood was terrifying for me when I was allowed to let Emilio walk outside. He doesn't respond to his name, he doesn't understand danger and he is prone to just tanking off. And. He. Is. Fast. Going for a walk with 3 dogs (including bloody liability puppy) and him was just so, so stressful. So the thought of an empty beach (it's winter), a house right on the beach front where I can hear and see the sea morning to night was just too appealing. And here we are. Through bloody mindedness, a fantastic moving company and sheer will, we are living at the beach.
Growing up beside the sea has made me a water girl forever. She speaks to my soul. Like Moana! When I lived in Edinburgh, I always, always said I missed the sea. When I lived in Caracas, although I had my mountain, I missed the sea. When I moved from Miraflores to Surco...you get the picture. So throw in a global pandemic, trying to teach via Zoom, etc, whilst parenting my child alone, looking after a home, pets, cooking, cleaning, etc. MY GOD, I NEEDED THE SEA. I feel so unbelievably fortunate to have been able to pull this off.
We also got our Santa Maria Poppins back part time. For a number of reasons, but really because I was feeling so much pressure to do better and be better at work, I had to. It's wonderful and it's awful. Emilio is delighted and I am in pain. Someone else is now looking after my child, instead of me. If you know, you absolutely bloody well know. It has also brought on loads of behaviours, like I knew it would, and it's so hard for him to understand when she leaves and when she's coming back - even with our visuals. It is just hard. But we are gradually getting used to this new way of being, I guess, sort of. Santa Maria is staying two nights a week so that's a thing to get used to for all of us, never having been in this situation before. It's weird and I hate it. But it's necessary so we have to find a way to make it work. We were on our own for 12 weeks and I did not realise just how much stress I was under. I said this to a friend this week; I knew I was talking about how awful it was, how I was always terrified Emilio was going to do something to injure himself while I was working, etc, but I did not realise just how unbelievably crippled I was with stress. Only after moving here and my nanny coming back did I recognise that the level of cortisol pumping around my body for the previous 12 weeks was dangerously high. DANGEROUSLY.
You live, you learn.
We are still trying to figure this out. I make mistakes daily. I'm still in fight or flight, but it's easing off. Emilio is up and down but mainly happy. What more could a person want? He knows he is loved. He is happy. He has a beach to play on and a mum who would do anything for him and a nanny who plays with him all day long. The conflicting feelings this last part brings on is my own stuff to deal with. But for now, we are surviving and maybe now, laughing a little bit more often.
