I don’t know why this feels like I’m sharing some huge secret, because so many people are/were in the same boat, but I had Covid. So did my husband, and my 1-year-old (somehow my 3-year-old never tested positive, although I’m pretty sure he’s the one who brought it home, who knows, maybe I brought it home from my 17th trip to Walgreens).

I hadn’t been feeling great for a while, but the Thursday before Christmas I felt extra off. Because we were supposed to be seeing family for the holidays, I figured it would be smart to take a test. So I did, thinking there was no way I had it. Not me. I barely go anywhere! Low and behold, the test line showed up faster than my dog when he hears his leash being taken out of the closet. It was like taking a pregnancy test, without all the excitement.

My heart was pounding. Now what? Do the kids have it? Did I give it to my parents when I saw them last weekend? Do I go to a hotel? I called my husband who was in the driveway as Luke slept in the car. He came inside and was greeted by me, in full blown panic mode. We decided I should 1. Put a mask on and 2. Go upstairs while he called our pediatrician. Basically I could still be around them if I had a mask on. My husband took a test, it was negative. Luke was negative too. Later that night we tested Liam and he was positive. Then I really freaked out. This was all unchartered territory. What if he ended up in the hospital? What if there was long term damage? Covid really is such a sneaky and unpredictable little biatch and there is so much information out there about how it affects children vs. adults that I thought my brain was going to explode. I couldn’t breathe correctly because my chest was in pain and I didn’t know if it was anxiety or Covid or both. Then there was the added factor that I immediately blamed myself and if something bad happened I would never be able to forgive myself.

I would later learn that pretty much everyone and their mom had Covid (Omicron does not discriminate). My husband ended up testing positive on Christmas (wow Santa, what a gift). But unlike everyone else, my body was not handling it well. All I wanted to do was sleep. I was feverish. I coughed up enough mucus to fill a blimp. Oh and the cherry on top – I woke up in the middle of night one night covered in hives. My eyes were basically swollen shut. Cool. Was this also Covid? Get Bill Nye the Science Guy on the phone because this was groundbreaking research worthy stuff. I’ll never know if the rash was from Covid but thank god for steroids. Also, scientists, call me.

Needless to say, it was a dark time – mentally and physically. As someone who struggles with an eating disorder, anxiety, and depression, you can imagine I was not in great shape. I didn’t have an appetite/was subconsciously restricting because I was literally getting zero form of physically activity. I felt useless cause I could barely help with the kids. My husband and I both had off from work that entire week between Christmas and New Years and what was supposed to be a time filled with making fun memories was filled with me curled up in bed cursing this virus.  

Well, here I am, writing this blog, feeling pretty good and reflecting on a week that although hellish, taught me a lot.

First things first, the world does not end when you can’t work out. I realized I can go days without running or walking or yoga or whatever and be perfectly fine. In fact, it’s kind of nice doing nothing. It’s a lesson I am grateful for going into 2022 – let my body rest. The world also does not end when you continue to eat without exercising. I’ve struggled with the notion of having to ‘earn’ food for quite some time. Can you blame me? Diet culture is constantly sending toxic messages like “You better work for that ice cream!” Screw that. Move your body because it feels good, not because it grants you some made up permission to have a cookie. The fact that I sat on my butt all day and was able to eat Ben and Jerry’s after dinner is progress my friends. Look, I’m not saying I am completely cured of all disordered thinking when it comes to food and exercise, but I made some strides. Covid is really giving my therapist a run for her money.

Secondly, and probably more importantly, the mind is very powerful, and you spend a lot of time there, so make sure it’s a nice place to live. What I’m trying to say is, when I tested positive, I immediately thought of all the bad things that could happen and how I was to blame. Then I spent so much time dwelling on how horrible this situation was and yes, had a bit of a pity party. I’m not saying you can’t feel sorry for yourself and you can’t be scared or worried for what’s to come, just don’t sit in that space. Move on from it. Take inventory of what is happening, which in this scenario was the following: I am sick, this sucks, I am struggling but it will get better, and I am so lucky that I have a husband who can be everything that I can’t be right now and thank god none of us are extremely ill.

I know many of you reading this have had Covid or maybe you’re in the thick of it or maybe a family or friend has it. Maybe you have no symptoms and maybe you are bed ridden. Maybe you don’t even think Covid is real. Regardless, this virus is going to affect you. That’s a fact. You might as well learn something from it.