Pandemic Wilderness, a Privileged and Personal Account
KELLY COCHRAN COHLMAN
I am no stranger to the Wilderness. I believe I was born into a Dark Night of the Soul and it has been mine to reopen the connection with the Divine from my end.
Aspects of the pandemic were actually comfortable for me at first. The pressure to perform in the presence of others and make them comfortable was lifted. Because, pandemic. My own needs and discomfort weren’t good enough reason to say no or not spend time with people I didn’t want to, but the pandemic? Not my fault. Please direct all displeasure at the pandemic.
In recent years, I was given the advice that if someone ever tried to put me in a box, metaphorically speaking, don’t get in. With so many illusions of freedom before the pandemic, I had not realized quite how many boxes I’d moved into. And, set up camp. With the noise and frenetic swirl stilled by the lockdown, the walls around me were so much more obvious. I was looking at my life without the reflections of others. Without their feedback, I was feeling how pulled from myself I was.
No, in fact, I am not comfortable with this. No, in fact, I don’t want that.
Man, did it feel good to gain that space. I have no interest in giving it back, either.
However, part of the pandemic shut-down also includes pandemic schooling. I call pandemic schooling, my kids doing school at home with lots of Zoom meetings, the seventh layer of hell because it sounds dramatic and awful. It feels awful and I am dramatic. In some ways, my world stopped spinning. I was set to compete in several events in the National Collegiate Landscape Competition. I’d prepared and fundraised for a year for the trip, and it was cancelled. It was disappointing, but it wasn’t the let-down that losing my internship was. I’d signed to work with a professional horticulturist for 320 hours in the spring. Work outside continued through the waves of shut-downs. For me, it felt like I was yanked rather unceremoniously back down from being more than just a mom. I am aware there is no such thing as “just a mom” unless you’re an ass or bitter about the lack of recognition for what momming means, or you need more, or different also. I love my children with a depth and ferocity that I didn’t know was possible prior. But I don’t like them when we don’t get time apart. My school and work had to fit into my stay-at-home mom time. With no time at school for the kids, no childcare, there was no time for such things. I didn’t feel like an important, needed piece. I felt expendable. Playing horticulturist was for off-momming time, and I was now on mom duty 24/7.
As things have slowly come back, I have added more and more back in, but it is all in the context of having to drop it all at a moment’s notice for pandemic school because I’m a stay-at-home mom — who works 30 hours a week and takes classes.
Dear pandemic, I am not crawling back in a bunch of boxes. Love, Kelly
Kelly is into her fifth decade as a freelance renaissance woman. She especially appreciates good food and time alone, both preferably outdoors.