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Dear Anna

I’ve been wondering how to raise this with you. To put it gently, you haven’t been yourself. And I’ve noticed. After all, we spend a lot of time together.

It started three and a half months ago, when you looked down and saw two lines - not the one line you were cheerily expecting. You told yourself, she’ll be right. And you believed it. But time went on and things weren’t right.

For a while, you tried to force it. Then, sometime last week, you realised you couldn’t. And I don’t want to say you hit the wall and packed a giant shitty with life, the universe, and God himself. No. Let’s just say, there was a … robust conversation. Involving F-bombs and snot-crying.

You need a pep talk. Unfortunately, you’re getting it from yourself - no one better was available. Here’s what I need you to remember.

1. Your energy is a budget, and you need to figure out how you’ll spend it. Then you need to stick to the plan. It’s just like your supermarket shopping. Priorities only: Lindt chocolates, toilet paper, and whatever you’re supposed to feed children.
2. Perspective. Remember? You’ve spent the last four decades complaining about having to do housework, and now you’re complaining you can’t. Think this through. Take as long as you need. (Also, you won’t get behind in the washing if you never change out of your PJs. See: I told you’ve I’ve got all the answers.)
3. On that theme, work on your positive reframing. Is that mould in your son’s bedroom? Or is it more like a furry organic cost-effective furnishing?
4. You’ve always resisted hashtag-gratitude. It’s so cringe. It rests on dehumanisation - at least you’re better off than a disabled person! - or on the effacement of injustice. You know, the person who works three jobs to live is better off than the person who can only find two. But I need you to step back from that. It’s not taking you anywhere useful. You can acknowledge the bad and cherish the good.
5. Because - and you’re not going to like this - you have to quit the overthinking. Thinking is fine. But you need to stop hiding behind your brain when you’re afraid to listen to your body or your wairua.
6. It was hard to admit this stuff. Sure, you can talk about challenges you’ve already overcome. They’re easier to face than the ones you’re still going through. But when you did open up, for all that it was clumsy and sad and embarrassing, the people in your life - from every walk of life - were right there for you. And they made you smile with their hashtag-attitude.
7. You’ve been living scared. Step outside the house too far, and you’ll get it again. Yeah, maybe. But if you do what you can to protect yourself and others, then you’re doing good - the rest is out of your hands. And remember, the first time you got sick, your work sent you gourmet bakery delights. More virus, more doughnuts. What’s not to like?
8. Your son needs you. I mean, he wouldn’t admit it. But he’s home with you, coughing, struggling, worrying about NCEA. He needs you to show him the art of care, for self and for others. He needs you to tell him it’ll be alright, and to mean it as you say it. He needs you to hold him, even though he doesn’t know it. This is your chance to do that.
9. I don’t want to say your idea of success is crap, but your idea of success is crap. Instead of measuring yourself by what you can’t do, how about enjoying what you can do? The bench you found the energy to wipe, the thoughts you had a moment to think, the patch of afternoon sun you laid in? The small task you were able to complete, not the big one you couldn’t start? To return to gourmet baking: start looking at the doughnut, not the hole.
10. You’ve gone through bad stuff before. You are sensitive sometimes, and introspective, but it doesn’t mean you’re weak. It just means you find your strength from somewhere else, somewhere non-traditional. Each and every time you’ve gone through bad stuff, you’ve faced it the same way. You take the mickey out of it, and of yourself. It bloody works. You know this from experience: when we bring light to one another, it lifts the weight. Those white hot puns aren’t going to formulate themselves. Get busy.

You and I spend a lot of time together. Over the years, I’ve sort of grown fond of you - even when it’s taken effort. I love it when we laugh together.

You’ve always believed in people, through good and bad. ‘People’ includes you. So step up, b*tch.

Love, Anna

PS. Actually, clean the mould. It’s gross.

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