This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so here. Love u.
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Every time someone asks me how I’m doing right now, I pause.
I used to cry every time I watched this game show, The Wall. It’s a show where couples answer trivia questions and then drop huge balls from a huge wall and get money based on where the balls land. It sounds stupid as ever but I swear to you, it is one of the greatest game shows to ever exist, and it’s back with it’s first new episodes since 2018.
Now, why did this make me cry? LIKE I’D TELL YOU. No. You have to watch it. You have to experience it. I would cry in every episode, and it always made me feel really good to cry over. Not like a cathartic, “ah I needed to cry” good. More like a, “I’m good because I cried.” It made me feel like a truly phenomenal person — like I was sweet for crying over other peoples’ triumphs and misses. Like my investment mattered. Like my tears added money to the pot. I loved it.
Then. A few nights ago, I realized The Wall was back with new episodes. I freaked out and promised Cammie (who have never seen it) that it would be well worth her time. Fast forward 30 minutes and we’re both screaming of joy, cheering our glasses together, holding fists into the air like we’re winning the money. Cammie cries, and I don’t.
Hm. That’s weird. I’m the one who cries at The Wall. This show always gets me.
Then, a few days go by and it’s tonight. Hulu tells me another new episode is out, so Cam and I plan to watch it when we’re done working. Meetings end. Laptops close. It’s show time, baby.
This episode is especially heart-wrenching. It’s a daddy-daughter duo (+1 crying points), and the dad was a volunteer fireman (+2) DURING 9/11 (+230948203984). A true hero. Cammie cries early on. I’m… not okay. But not crying. Episode goes on, the good things happen, the people on the show cry, and Cammie is borderline wailing — “jeez, this show.”
THAT USED TO BE ME. I used to cry at this show. That’s my thing.
Episode ends. We’re hanging on the couch, and BOOM.
Out of no where, I start crying. Big tears. Wet tears. Real tears. Cam asks why, and I don’t answer because I don’t know. I actually don’t. I’m just sat there crying. But this time, it’s not a “wow I feel noble for crying” cry and is, instead, the “woah I needed this” cry, which is arguably better. She drew me a bath and made it really cute and I took a bunch of warm, deep breaths and feel a lot better now.
Cam = professional bath maker
This little story reminds me of how I feel when people ask me how I’m doing with all this coronavirus stuff. They ask it like there’s a right answer. Like I’ll be good or bad. Fine or scared. They ask it because they’re looking for the answer too. But, that’s the answer. There is no answer, because we’re all both.
i'm awful and great. Hopeful and dreadful. Calm and actually freaking the fuck out.
I’m bored and refreshed. I have all the time in the world and also all of the world’s time, which is way, way too much. I've watched everything and nothing. I've conquered some big things and haven't started climbing others.
My feeds are all over the place. One picture is an asymptomatic celebrity who can’t kiss their kids and the next is my friends and their new little baby. One picture is a graph of deaths and hospitalizations. The next is a puppy who was adopted by people going through it.
Some people are too out of breath and others are so full of it, they go on a walk with their family — something they wouldn’t do if they were at work. The streets are empty and full. Stores are closed but families are together. Jobs lost. Siblings reconnected.
Even a cough isn’t inherently bad or good. You can cough and it’s bad, because oh my god it’s covid. You can cough and it’s good, because omg I was chocking on that m&m I certainly didn't need.
We’re opening wine for good reason. To celebrate wins or relax after a day. We’re opening wine for bad reason. To get drunk because life is too surreal. We’re opening wine for no reason. Because it’s there and so are we.
So, how am I doing? I’m awful and great. Hopeful and dreadful. Calm and actually freaking the fuck out. Crying when I don’t want to and not crying when I really want to.
It’s a lot right now. There’s a lot to be thankful for and a lot to be scared about. I hope you’re careful about what you can control and thankful for what you have. I hope you relax and tire yourself out. I hope you wake up and get rest. I hope you run around and lay down. I hope you see your parents (facetime) and don’t see your parents (social distancing). I hope you reach out to people and be alone with yourself. I hope you let yourself be awful and great, because that’s the right answer. We’re both. We’re all of it at the same time.
I can’t thank you enough for reading. If you liked what you read, share it with someone you think would like it too. :)