I lost it today.

For no other reason than reading it was Mother’s Day soon.
Previously, whenever I was asked what I would like for Mother’s Day: all I requested is for all my family to spend time together. Usually it’s a lunch, or Terry cooks something and then I take a photo whilst everyone protests and rolls their eyes (but they secretly like it). 

Mother's Day 2019
Mother’s Day 2019


Not happening this year. Covid19 made sure that there shall be no hugs or sitting together around the table, enjoying my family with a heart overflowing with pride. We are all trying to do the right thing and stay home as much as possible. But FaceTime is just not going to cut it.


I am also realising that planning to go and see my mum in Holland next year might be a waste of time. Who knows when international flights will be back on track? I regret not having been to see her earlier.


So today I cried. Big, fat teardrops rolling down my face. Snotty, ugly crying, so hard that I had to pull the car over to the side of the road and just let it all out.
It took me completely by surprise, but I think it’s a build up of so many things: the fear of the unknown. The job insecurities and the realisation of the state of the whole world. The. whole. friggin. world.
I know I am not the only one, who feels sorry for herself today. It is ok to be sad/upset/angry. Whichever way we are feeling is ok. The world has never seen anything like this, so there is no right or wrong way to feel. It’s just the way you feel, we are all stumbling around in the dark.


I am trying to see the positives: they are there: I can see the earth bloom from people staying home. I can see and admire how inventive and resourceful people have become in order to survive. I can see community spirit thriving.

There are so many positives, I know. But it is those little things we always took for granted that are now gone: the hugs, the handshakes, the kisses. That hurts. It is not the same talking to someone emphatically, without putting a hand on someone’s arm. It’s not the same.


That’s why I was crying. For how it was, how it is, and the not knowing of how it will be.


Til Next time,

About Fashionista in Suburbia

Dutch Born, Fashionista in Suburbia lives at the Southern Beaches of Sydney, Australia. A Mum. A Wife. A Lover of all things sparkly, shiny and leopard print. A Shoe, Lipstick and Sunglasses Addict. A Typical Libra. A Breast Cancer Thriver.

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