I’m writing this from the sanctuary of my own home, with my health and sanity intact and a little dog named Dixie snoozing behind me on the back cushion of the sofa I have happily and peacefully made my office space. The little doggo nails from all four paws of the pooch press against my shoulders so we both know the other is there. I have not tired of this scenario, not once, over the last few weeks. And I certainly haven’t tired of my two darling grand girls (4 ½ years and 8 months) who spend a couple of work days at Glamma’s house where my attention is strung like dainty party lights between a hopping email inbox and moments of whispering “you’re amazing” or saying yes to a play break in the backyard where we may find bugs, and where we will surely bury our noses—up to our eyebrows—in flowers. 

My heart beats with a smooth steady rhythm—and hasn’t attempted to pound its way out of my chest like it had done daily before, back when life was normal. I feel … tethered … by love, respect, adoration, friendship, hope and to the things and the people who matter most—priorities that suddenly seem dialed down to keeping a roof over our heads; lights, water and heat on; buying food for my family; spending time engaging with the people I would die for. No longer are my limbs—or is my mind—swaying wildly in the wind of life’s chaos, ends frazzled and frayed, and buds clutched too tight to ever bloom. 

Without exception, Mondays presented themselves with so much blasphemy, my anxiety levels on Sunday would obliterate any joy I should have felt on my “day of rest.” I wasn’t alone though. Researchers have long determined the “Sunday Scaries”—in essence, workweek dread—a phenomenon more than 80 percent of Americans experience. Now, my days flow more peacefully from one into the next like the gently ebb and flow of the tides. Life has felt continuous, instead of broken into compartments of existence like it felt before—“you must be here, and now you must be there … oh, and hurry.” I’ve been grateful to weave together life’s most precious moments with my littlest grand girl best friends, as well as lots of time with my adult best friends and big kids over Zoom, Facetime or the House Party app. Add in professional productivity on my own schedule, instead of sitting at a desk for hours feeling pounded on end with emails, or requests to consume my spirit in two hard chomps and one big gulp, and I’m finally finding some peace. 

One of the most profound statements I’ve heard through the pandemic’s slowing—or shutting down—of life as we knew it is that our fear shouldn’t be that things won’t start improving soon, it’s that our fear should be having had this space of reset and then letting life go back to the “normal” it was before. As we begin the rebuild—in our lives, our communities, the country and around the globe—considering what we will no longer tolerate in our lives is a solid place to begin the clearing for what we do hope for. Whether that’s professional endeavors, romantic relationships, the way we show up as parents and friends, or the hunger and suffering of others—70 percent of children in our country experience food insecurity; it is said that the most unsafe space for many women and children is in their own homes where abuse and terror run free; race and class inequalities and so much more—a chunk of the “normal” before the pandemic should be considered unacceptable within our own homes and more broadly on a humanitarian level, within a socially conscious society. We need to be appalled enough by the disparities and atrocities faced by others to look ourselves in the mirror and get serious about working toward living our best lives so that we may then find strong, solid footing to stand on—and up—for others to ensure they have access to the resources that will allow them to live their best lives, too. 

Within these times of less, there is much more to mull over and consider. How do we truly want to live our lives? How do we want to run our businesses and treat our teams? What level of suffering will we accept for ourselves? And is that level different from what we will accept for others? Will we stand for our own lives to the point where we muster the chutzpah to stand for the lives of others? It is through these processes of digging down to the knowing that lead us away from what wasn’t serving us best, and take us toward a better home, community, country and world. 

As we build our lives back up from this space of less we’ve been forced into, I wish for us all to see—and incorporate—more … love, opportunity, consideration, community, togetherness, goodness, responsibility and respect. 

We are Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living, and we are Spokane and Coeur d’Alene. Please find me on Facebook and Instagram—and hop over to “like” the Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living pages—to stay connected between press dates, and share your thoughts, stories, and life in real time.

To rebuilding,

Stephanie Regalado 

stephanie@spokanecda.com