My body is moving forward, but my soul can’t keep up

Good morning, DMV! It’s Monday, March 16.

Yesterday, I tried to slow my life down. I canceled my Sunday yoga class. I stayed home to bake a chocolate cake instead. I strolled to the grocery to get heavy whipping cream for the ganache. Then I knit.

I did this in an effort to reunite my soul with my body.

Let me explain: In recent years, when I travel, I feel like my soul arrives about a day later than my physical body. That is, on my first morning in a different place, I wake up disoriented and can’t figure out where I am.

This has happened to me while on vacation or visiting family. By the second morning, I’m more settled and understand where I am. I think my physical body can travel faster, and it takes time for my soul to catch up.

Lately, however, this has been happening to me even without travel. Since getting laid off, I’ve felt adrift. I am working on this newsletter, going out for yoga and walks; meeting friends, readers and others who can hold my hand through this discombobulating chapter in life. But because my routine differs each day, I have to note it all meticulously in my calendar and set multiple alarms as reminders.

Then last Saturday, I woke up confused. I glanced at the ceiling and the morning light seeping in around the curtains. Nothing looked familiar. Eventually recognition dawned on me: I was home, in bed.

It made me deeply sad. My body was moving forward through my disjointed routine, one foot in front of the other, but my soul couldn’t keep up.

Yesterday as I knit, the smell of fresh-baked cake wafted through my home. I was savoring the moment, when a friend messaged me: “We missed you today!”

“Oh what where?” I replied. Then a lightbulb went off: I had made a yoga date, but I didn’t put it in my calendar. I’d forgotten. “Oh I’m so sorry … I canceled yoga bc I needed the sleep & time to make a cake & slow down.”

And this is my predicament. How do I stop feeling discombobulated?

I’ve met so many people in a similar situation. Laid off. Working from home. Rebuilding a career. How do we buttress each other? How do we feel less isolated?

I’m learning. I focus on routines that give me joy and strengthen me, my loved ones and my community, so that a blow to the system does not leave me hobbled, but rather with just a slight ding.

People remind me to let myself grieve. They tell me to be kind to myself. I need to hear this again and again and again.

I’m trying, but I’m impatient. I can’t wait to feel whole again.

A reminder: I’ll be speaking at a brown bag at 1 p.m. on Wednesday, March 18, at American University’s School of Communications. It will be in the McKinley Building, room 101. Come say hello.

Several of your photos of early spring …

Mike Finkelstein, 64, West Springfield, Virginia: “This is the first crocus — really, the first spring — photo of the season.”

Sarah Moore, 37, Woodbridge, Virginia: “I planted bulbs for the first time last fall, and it was so cold this winter, I wasn't sure if I had planted them deep enough to survive! But they made it and my first crocus bloomed.”

Kenneth Lowenberg, 86, Potomac, Maryland: “A single miniature crocus … blooming in the wild in Cabin John Regional Park, Bethesda, MD.”

Ayrika White-Mfoudi, 49, Windsor Mill, Maryland: “I'm sending pictures that I took after [Thursday’s] crazy storm. I feel so bad for the early spring flowers😩.”

Thanks to all of you who have sent me pics. I appreciate seeing the DMV through your eyes and delivering it back to you through this newsletter — which I consider our community gratitude journal.

Please share here your photos from the DMV of the aftermath of today’s storm. Meanwhile, stay safe out there.

🌧️