Today I stood in the middle of a bridge overlooking the Delaware River. On one side was New York; on the other, Pennsylvania. I was literally in between two states. I laughed because my mental and emotional self is also in between two states of being: 1) “I’m depressed and hopeless” and 2) “I’m grateful and have hope”. This in-between space on the bridge felt like the perfect place to linger and laugh and feel and cry and take a million photos, as I tend to do. So I did.

Up until the other day, I was solidly in a depressed state of being. I guess this new feeling of gratitude and maybe-hope creeping in is because I got what I needed. About a week ago, maybe more, I hit a wall and wound up a hot, sobby mess. The good thing about this hot, sobby mess is that I couldn’t hide it. Sometimes I’m good for a quiet, low-key, controlled weep, but this was uncontrollable, physical, very much out in the open, and so my family saw what I didn’t have the words to say. Until I did. And then all the words spilled out and all the feelings and allll the sobs.

It turns out, lurking under all those sobs and all that depression was/is an identity crisis. When the pandemic hit, I lost the tangible parts of my identity outside of “mom”. I have worked hard over the past six years of being a stay-at-home / homeschool parent to maintain my own individual identity and my own sense of meaning and purpose outside of the grind of motherhood. Don’t get me wrong, being with my kids is, by far, the most meaningful part of my life, but like any human, I am multi-dimensional and have diverse interests and goals. I’ve strived to honor those other parts of myself through various pursuits, like building my trip planning business, Gimme Trip. Trips aren’t exactly in high demand these days, at least not the kind I help plan, so that’s temporarily gone. We also shuttered our airbnb, which was essentially my part-time job. While I was ready to end the airbnb chapter, I was just as eager to use that time to start a new volunteer role. Womp. So now I’m mom and only mom 24/7. And the thing is, I don’t need much. I’m happy being mom most of the time. But without those other parts of my identity having an outlet and an anchor, I am restless and discontent.

So that night, as all of this is pouring out of me, Jay listened and acknowledged my words and validated my feelings and then said those five magic words: “You should take a trip“, and then he added a sixth magical word: “Alone“. These are extra-magical words right now because he’s working on a time sensitive project and for me to step away for a few days meant that he had to take time off work at an inconvenient time. But he saw my crisis and knowing me as he does, he knew I needed an escape.

And so I did. I booked an incredible airbnb in Damascus, PA where I’ve spent the past few days in quiet solitude reflecting on it all. And for the first time in a while, I feel clear-headed and calm and extremely grateful. I came here feeling overwhelmed and numb. I didn’t have a therapist or a plan or a sense of how to feel better. I leave here tomorrow feeling rested, clear in my needs, grounded, and with fresh ideas for how to feed the various parts of my identity. Oh, and not only did I find a therapist, but our first appointment is scheduled. BAM!

So yeah, I’m in between states. These glorious days of stillness have not cured me, they have offered me an escape and an opportunity to feel and hear my own self and reset. The “real world”, the world full of noise and chaos and contagions and racism awaits, but I feel like I have a path and a plan. It’s a start. Fingers crossed. Mostly though, I leave here feeling deeply grateful for the restorative power of rest, nature, and a good book. Also deeply grateful for a husband who knows what I need (before I do) and when I need it.

I’ll leave you with some pics from the airbnb property. So perfect for what I was seeking. And these don’t even show my ensuite unit or private deck! This place was a gem. I’ll be back, for sure.