Dear 2027 Self

 Dear 2027 Self,

A shout out from 2026 self:  Hang in there, girl.  You got this.
I know what you're going through.  For one - you thought by now you wouldn't be.  That you could handle March all right.  Maybe you are - but I suspect that you've having issues.

You have one foot in 2027.  But also one in 2020.  And a third foot (awkward, I know) in the 48 years between 1972 and 2020, with it all swirling around you like confetti in a tornado.  You're not sure exactly where you are or when you are.

You're making stupid mistakes.  Dropping things.  Forgetting what you're doing.  Setting timers for everything so you don't forget something 10 minutes later.  Crying at odd moments.

At the same time - you're fine.  Singing and getting jiggy while doing the dishes.  Maybe working on a project.  Reading a good book.  Loving on the cats, walking in the woods, laughing with people at work.  Scratching Otis the Pig on his tummy.

You're not alone.  2026 Self is going through all that right now.  And we have backup.  Poor 2020 Self, who had to sit there in that hospital room 24/7, starting to realize what was going to happen and not being able to do anything about it except watch and try to be positive and comforting.  2021 Self - she's not much help.  I think she was shell-shocked and didn't say much.  2022 Self - there's our girl.  She gutted herself, committed emotional seppuku, felt all the feeling - and survived.  Those of us after her don't have to lean in as hard.  We should be grateful.

The rest of us just sort of fall apart in March, living the double (triple?) life.  Needing timers, and reminders, and checking the phone or calendar to see what day it is.  But we always cope, right?  We know how to handle this.

Are you sometimes sleeping on the couch, because having that solidity at your back helps keep the 3:00 a.m. panic away?  That doesn't hurt anyone, so why not?

Cats, chickens, and squirrel fed? (Is Dingo squirrel still around - he's over 11 years old now)

Showered?

Eating?  Cut yourself some slack if you want to.  Still eat your veggies and healthy stuff, but some junk food for a short time won't hurt anything.  Have some Easter candy, or buy some pastry.  Yesterday, I bought a loaf of white bread - which I haven't done for years (Gill gives me a couple of slices when I go visit her).  But I was making the medication for the Roger the Goat at work yesterday, which is mixed with peanut butter and put of bread, and suddenly I was "I Must Have A Peanut Butter Jelly Sandwich."  And that just isn't the same on my homemade multigrain seedy bread.  Now I'm excited - I even bought some American cheese (which in theory I dislike, but it's the cheese of my childhood) so I can have a grilled cheese sandwich.  Cinnamon toast.  Sugar sandwiches (another childhood treat - butter and a heavy sprinkle of sugar, so crunchy when you eat it).

I'm getting worked up over a loaf of white bread - sigh.

Still admiring the azaleas?  Enjoying the pink skies of sunset, with the chorus of spring peepers?  Strolling in the woods?

Still going in to the museum?

Still moving?  You won't be doing the endless slog of the 1084 mile walking challenge because I'll be through with that by mid-April, but still move.  I did finally go to the senior exercise class at the community center on Monday.  It was not too strenuous, but it was fun, and I'd been inside my own head too much, so getting active with other people was good.

It's OK to go back onto the antidepressants.

March is hard.  Acknowledge that, and let it be hard.  You'll carve out those last two days to really mourn, and then pick up those bootstraps and keep going.

One last thought.  You often read essays on grief, and there is the old "people think I'm fine, but inside I'm weeping."  What I want you to realize is that the outside person isn't masking.  She's not faking.  The person who can laugh, dance, sing, enjoy this beautiful world of ours and so far has handled everything the world has thrown at her, is just as real and authentic as the person who is lonely, often fearful, and clutches a pillow like a teddy bear.  There's nothing fake about either of them.

So good luck, 2027 self.  It might not feel like it some days, but you'll get through this.  Be gentle to yourself - and we're all behind you.