Dutch Lock Down Day Thirteen

Photo by Alice Dietrich on Unsplash

I’m doing much better now.

Whether it was because I hit a ‘bottom’ or that the funeral is passed or because it’s such a gorgeous sunny day out, I managed to get out of bed, shower, get dressed, and do a little work.

But first, the news:

A GISH friend reached out the other day and asked, “So, you all have been locked down much longer than the US (because we HAVEN’T been locked down AT ALL [stupid])…what have been your biggest struggles?”


I’m used to working from home ALONE.

The kids went into daycare and school and my partner went into his work. I went into the local cafes and the gym every single day.

Now I’ve got no introvert time and kids and partner here all the time.

I’m slowly figuring out how to cope.

Writing it out helps.

I figured out this morning that fresh baked bread makes me SO HAPPY.

I still have a lot more to figure out.

On the other hand, the twins and the oldest are having a BLAST. There’s a lot of confusion, sure, but they get to see us ALL THE TIME and SO MUCH SCREEN ACTION.

Photo by Ian on Unsplash

I wrote so much more after that, but then I deleted it because it was late at night and that shit got DARK.

It was something along the lines of…

I’m so thankful we’re here in the Netherlands instead of the States right now because, sure, the Dutch are taking this rather seriously, but that’s also aligned with how my partner and I feel about it which makes it somewhat easier to self isolate. When you know the government and most of your neighbors feel the same way about it, you don’t see people breaking the isolation and it makes it easier to do.

It’s like the marshmallow study, a friend wrote yesterday (hi, M!) – that this self isolation is the grownup version. The kids who hid the marshmallows with the plate or otherwise got them out of sight did better at resisting the temptation and therefore getting a ‘reward’ marshmallow at the end.

I whined that I don’t know how to hide the grownup ‘marshmallows’ now – I miss my gym, damnit. And I’m absolutely DREAMING of crowds.


She replied THAT’s what makes it the grownup version.

I don’t want to adult anymore.


I’m thankful I’m not in the States, because of more obvious reasons, but also I’m kind of scared to be over here, too.

We’re expats.

We’re not local.

We don’t have family here.

If shit really hits the fan and the actual for realsies apocalypse were to happen, the outsiders are the first to go.

It’s one of the reasons why, the other day when I wrote about not having a socket wrench, and one of our neighbors (hi, P!) reached out and offered their tools, I was SO thankful.

Like, sure, thankful that I could actually tighten some bolts, yeah, but also super thankful that now I know a neighbor is watching.

And offering help.

NOTE TO SELF: I totally owe her a cake.

ASIDE: I ended up having to borrow a socket wrench twice – once on that second day and once again on the last day. It was particularly frustrating because both my partner and I SCOURED the house looking for my socket wrench collection. At my wedding shower, one of my kickass girlfriends gave me a tool set. The container of the mini tool set was shaped like an orange car. So when we went looking all over the house, we looked for an orange car. Literally within one hour of returning the socket wrench to my neighbor, I was looking for a rubber mallet to install the rebar, I turned over a tiny box, and FOUND THE SOCKET WRENCH COLLECTION. Of course, then I remembered that in the move, I opened up the orange car tool set and, since so many tools had been lost over the years and I only had a few left in there, I had put the rest in this little plastic box and thrown away the orange car. I laughed SO HARD. Showed P. He laughed. That’s the thing about this situation, eh? It SUCKS. But it also means that when things are funny, they’re fucking HILARIOUS. Which is a nice silver lining. You have to laugh or you’ll cry your eyes out.

Photo by Jace & Afsoon on Unsplash

But that’s what my deep down fear about being over here is.

That I’m not Dutch.

What are your deep down fears?

And how are you coping?






One response to “Dutch Lock Down Day Thirteen”

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