Things (don’t have to) Fall Apart: staying connected through Covid

This has been a tough week Chez Companioni.

My partner, our 2.5 year-old toddler, and I have all Covid, we’re both working from home, and we have a puppy who just started getting all those awesome hormonal cues to hump and pee on everything. 

Here’s a *short* list of some of the other balls we’re juggling: 

• My partner is in the middle of developing a compliance organization within his rapidly-growing company.

• We’re developing a new service app with major disruption potential.

• We’re strategizing some really exciting, BIG new steps for Rowan Coaching.

• We’re trying to wrap up a complete redesign/renovation of my partner’s office (before we start mine). 

• We’re working on finding a new nanny before our current (amazing, Mary Poppins) one leaves with her Marine husband to his new assignment in two months.

• Plus a list of other ongoing family, personal, and family business projects that is literally TWELVE PAGES LONG.

• Not to mention maintaining our mental health, the strain of pandemic fatigue two years in, the general sleep deprivation common to all parents of young kids, etc etc etc.

It’s a lot. We’re exhausted. (We’re still making the universally brilliant decision to stay up until 3am reading, but it’s a balance, right?)

And yet - even in the midst of all this madness - we’re ok. 

Yes, we’re tired a lot. No, we’re not having as much sex as either of us prefers. There is visual mess interfering with peace of mind all over the fucking place. . We constantly feel frustrated by how long it takes us to get any projects done, and by how much is still on our list. 

We desperately miss going out on dates, traveling, discovering new restaurants, going to concerts and burlesque shows, seeing our families, and all the other things we’ve had to table until it’s safe(r) for our unvaccinated son to participate in the world. My heart hurts in a 100 different ways for the friendships Luca hasn’t had a chance to build, the art he hasn’t had the opportunity to experience, the people and cultures he doesn’t get to learn from (yet). Managing our sadness and fear feels like a full-time job. 

So don’t get me wrong - we’re having a hard time, just like everyone else is right now. I’m not trying to paint some Instagram-perfect picture of an idyllic, challenge-free relationship or life.

But WE, together, are not a mess. In fact, if anything, our relationship is stronger than ever. Ari and I don’t fight (no, really). We don’t yell at each other (although we definitely have some spirited debates) . We (almost) never raise our voices at our kid (this one is harder). 

This doesn’t exactly surprise me, since we both do a lot of work to show up for each other and our family (and ourselves) - but there’s definitely a part of me that keeps looking at this pure, precious thing we’re balancing between us with total awe. It feels like something rare and magical that must be protected at all costs. 

So what keeps things working?

Why are we able to have so much on our plates, AND have covid, and not completely fall apart at the seams? Why haven’t the wheels fallen off yet?

First of all, it’s important to note that my partner and I are privileged in a number of ways, including that we are financially secure, have fully remote jobs with enough flexibility to allow us to be responsive to emerging circumstances/each other, and are able to afford childcare during our workday. 

This privilege has an undeniable impact on our ability to show up for ourselves, our relationship, and our family - particularly during the pandemic - because each of these things represents the resolution of a potential “threat”. Generally, the more threats you are experiencing, the less bandwidth you have for other “work” - including the work and practice of co-creating a healthy relationship. 

If your current situation feels like a threat buffet - take heart: the threat-bandwidth relationship is not 100% linear. Even in the presence of multiple perceived threats, there are a LOT of ways that you can be intentional about how you direct your energy and efforts in order to shift your focus from “survive” to “thrive”.

Secondly, let me be clear - it’s working because WE WORK IT. Maintaining our mental health, continuing to cultivate a healthy relationship and family dynamic, and all the rest takes active focus, intention, and action. 

Here’s some of what that work looks like: 

No. 1 - We take our mental wellness really seriously.

This means different things at different times - lots of which is covered in the points below. The key thing here is acknowledging that we - like everyone - ACT how we FEEL. Them’s the biology, and there’s no way around it. So we know that if we aren’t actively practicing mental wellness and emotional regulation - both individually and together -  we sure as shit aren’t going to feel/be able to take action or make choices that serve us, our family, our businesses, or our shared goals.

Not to mention that an unregulated adult can’t help a developing kiddo regulate when he gets out of whack (has a tantrum, gets frustrated by something he can’t do, has a hangry meltdown when you have already offered him 332409135375023 things he usually loves but absolutely will not eat, etc). You can try, but I guarantee it will just end with everyone crying. Been there, and 12/10 do NOT recommend. 

No. 2 - We actively practice being vulnerable about our shames, fears, worries, needs, desires, boundaries, and whatever internal ick we may be experiencing.

I say “practice”, because I don’t think true vulnerability is really something anyone ever masters. The cultural stigma around keeping our “shame” private runs DEEP, and it’s pretty much always uncomfortable - even when you implicitly trust someone. But you can get more comfortable with being uncomfortable, which matters, because sharing our shame is one of the most demonstrably powerful ways of processing and moving through it. (Check out Brené Brown’s book, “I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn’t)”, if you want to learn more about shame, culture, and how those things interact - particularly for women.)

When we’re in a good place, we joke that communication is our superpower - the thing that keeps our relationship “bulletproof”. But don’t get it twisted - we don’t always love it.

I absolutely loathe having to sometimes say, “I’m afraid that at some point you’re just going to get tired of all my mental health bullshit and leave me, which means I’ll lose the most precious part of my life, and that terrifies me.” But if I don’t get that out of my mind and into our relationship, I never get the opportunity to hear my partner respond, “I knew who you were and what you struggle with going into this. I don’t love you despite your challenges - I love you because of them. Because of how you never give up. Because of how hard you work to stay in balance for yourself and for us. Because your unique brain makes just as much magic as it does madness. I went into this eyes wide open.  I choose you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

If I had kept that shame and fear inside, it would have multiplied, becoming a malicious shadow that slithered into my words and actions without my consent. That shit will kill a beautiful relationship in no time flat. Instead, every time we shine some shared light on something that scares us to say out loud, we see each other a little more clearly and we love each other a little harder.

We take something that feels soft and maybe a little bit rotten and turn it into gorgeous, mirror-plated armor that surrounds us BOTH, together, facing the world. You’d be amazed what’s possible when you feel both physically and emotionally safe with your partner.

No. 3 - We lead with radical generosity.

This doesn’t mean “we’re nice to each other,” even though we usually are. It means that we try to have compassion for each other. Even (or maybe especially) when one of us is irritated or angry or frustrated with the other, we try to pause and ask ourselves, “What might my partner, who I love, be feeling or experiencing right now that is influencing how they feel/act/behave?”

A lot of (the better) toddler books will tell you that kids don’t want to misbehave or act out. They aren’t throwing a tantrum just to fuck with you. They weren’t being a little baby jerk because they want to ruin your dinner party. Nope. All that “negative” behavior is just them saying, “I’m struggling and I don’t know how to help myself. Can you help me?” They do it because they’re tired, or hangry, or having big feelings they don’t know how to process, or overstimulated.

Sound like anyone you know? During a global pandemic? In late-stage capitalism? Yeah, me 20-20-too.

So when one of us is struggling to access our favorite selves, and acting/communicating accordingly, we try to pause and ask ourselves, “Instead of taking this at face value and reacting, how can I help?” And if we can think of something (and we have the capacity), WE DO IT. No quid pro quo required.

No. 4 - We share the (visible and invisible) work equitably.

Notice that I said “equitably”, not “equally” - meaning that we each take on as much of the work as we are able to, have the mental/physical resources to, and have the skills/tools to do.

We don’t separate work into “pink jobs” and “blue jobs” (seriously don’t get me started on that whole mess). I don’t do way more than anyone asked me, and then resent him for it. He doesn’t weaponize learned helplessness. We separate work by strengths, capacity, and personal interest.

For example, I find researching things to be incredibly tedious. I have ADHD, and I’m a social learner. So the idea of reading lots of detail in order to ask questions and go into greater detail about some of the most interesting or helpful details makes me want to stick my head in a blender. Ari, on the other hand, is happy to go down full-tilt rabbit holes about every detailed thing that is going to improve our quality life - how to invest, how to wire a new smart thermostat so we can save energy and money, whether this or that brand of mask is genuinely safer given the most recent pandemic data available, everything about audio/computing/video production that I have no interest in learning but desire to benefit from. He’s got it.  

On the other hand, Ari gets totally overwhelmed by visual planning. He has amazing ideas for how our home could look or feel, but when it comes to choosing the exact paint color, or finding the one chair that fits the vibe, is well-made, doesn’t cost a billion dollars, and fits in the required space, he’s a deer in headlights. I love that shit and could make mood boards for the rest of my natural life. Facebook marketplace and I are good friends. I’ve got it.

Obviously, not every example is as fun (to me at least) as making mood boards or bargain-hunting for cool furniture. Sharing our family workload equitably means BOTH giving each other grace AND holding each other accountable.

I’ll never forget one example from early in our relationship. I was complaining about doing dishes, a chore I used to loathe with every particle of my being - and which I had no good reason not to do at that moment - and Ari looked over at me with zero pity and said, “If they were fun, they wouldn’t be called chores.” I proceeded to give him level 10 side-eye. He proceeded to take the garbage out and ignore me. Twenty minutes and not all that much actual effort later, the kitchen was clean, and I felt accomplished instead of vaguely embarrassed.  

Even if one of us normally handles something, but they just aren’t feeling up to it for whatever (valid!) reason, the other one either does it or just lets it slide. Right now, all three of us are sick, so sharing the workload means, “you vacuum the vomit off the carpet while I get the kiddo in the bath” as much as anything else.

We’re doing our best, but not holding ourselves or each other to unrealistic expectations. Getting better also means resting, after all, and we don’t have to be awesome at everything always. If we always did our best, it would be our average.

I also want to say here that how we share our workload has evolved over time. We didn’t start out particularly good at it, but we got better because we both cared enough to prioritize learning how to support each other, and because our capacity for shared work has grown exponentially as we’ve found our groove.

The more we realized we could rely on each other - and trust each other to show up fairly, at the level we each could, even when it’s hard - the more we each freed up bandwidth previously eaten up by worrying, procrastination, anxiety, and guilt. You don’t have to get this part “right” from the get-go (or ever, really). You just have to BOTH care enough to keep trying.

No. 5 - We’re responsive and adaptable instead of rigid or judgmental.

This means we constantly check in with ourselves and each other about who we want to be, what we want to get done, and how we want to get there - and we’re open to changing both our goals and our approach as our internal or external context changes.

For example, both of us had super intense professional workloads last year, which ended up with both of us flirting precariously with burnout by last Fall. We’d been focusing for a while on cooking dinner (and cooking together) more frequently, as a means to both better health and closer connection. But when October hit, and we started to get smacked with the unending rain of an unusually-drenched Pacific Northwest winter, we decided to scrap “figuring out wtf to eat, buying appropriate ingredients, meal planning, and cooking EVERY GD NIGHT WHYYYYYYYY” in favor of a three-month subscription to Freshly.

We had dinner out of a microwave for a while there, and while it maybe wasn’t the tastiest or most fun, it was pretty healthy and it took something off our shared mental plate that we just didn’t have room for right then. We didn’t judge each other or ourselves for not having the energy or desire to cook every night. We just admitted we didn’t have it in us, and repurposed all of that self-recrimination bandwidth towards finding an alternate solution that was nearly as healthy and actually saved us money on groceries.

Changing your plans, adjusting your goals, and shifting your approach when your context, capacity, or circumstances change doesn’t mean you’ve “failed”. It means that you’re listening, feeling, communicating openly, learning, and redefining this wild experiment we call life when the parameters change or new data surfaces. It means that you’re getting comfortable with change, and letting change inform a healthy, relational response instead of allowing it to trigger a threat state.

No. 6 - We practice total loyalty.

Before I get into what this is, let me be clear about what it isn’t. It isn’t about jealousy, or sex, or isolating each other from other relationships, being co-dependent, checking each other’s phones, or any of the other unhealthy bullshit that often gets lumped in with the idea of “loyalty.”

Total loyalty means that we recognize that what we have is rare, and magical, and the foundation from which we can build a life worth waking up to - and we commit to not fucking that up.

It means that we are dedicated to prioritizing the safety and health of our romantic relationship, friendship, and family dynamic over everything else. We do the work, get the therapy, unlearn the unhelpful shit, heal the trauma - whatever is necessary to earn and deserve this relationship and this family.

It means that we don’t do anything privately that we wouldn’t admit to our partner. We don’t say things we’d be ashamed to have them hear, even to our closest friends.

It means we deal with the shamiest, grossest-feeling parts of ourselves so that we don’t accidentally set off a mine in the middle of this wonderland we’re cultivating together.

For us, it does also mean that we are sexually and emotionally monogamous, although we have our own “see Amendment A, Paragraph 2, Line 1” version of that. It also means having frank (and sometimes frankly uncomfortable) conversations about our sexual and emotional needs, desires, fantasies, and boundaries.

It means we don’t let our shadows linger long enough to take on substance and interfere with all the good. And all those stubborn shadows aren’t going anywhere (at least not anytime soon)? We created a nice underground speakeasy for them, and they’ve become great friends down there, drinking cocktails in our shared dark.

Loyalty isn’t about monogamy - or even about sex. We’re not each other’s property. It’s about being loyal to each other in the ways that you have both agreed are meaningful, and about not doing intentional harm to your partner, ever.

Practicing total loyalty has a cool benefit too - mutual trust. When you trust your partner to make decisions that don’t harm your relationship or family (or each other), it’s easy to give each other space to spend time alone or with others. 

After all, our alone time, our friendships and our family relationships are just as important to our well being as our intimate relationship(s). It’s super healthy to get your needs met by a variety of people, and no one should be expected to be anyone else’s everything. That’s a lot of pressure. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been able to clear something aggravating out of my system with a short text rant with one of my besties, alleviating any need for a capital-C Conversation with my partner. But even in my most irritated rants, I never breach our fundamental loyalty.  

So, to wrap things up…

Neither of us is perfect partners, parents, or people (HAHAHHAHA) by … a stretch. But I’m proud of how hard we try, and I’m wildly, unbelievably, every-morning-is-christmas-morning grateful to have found a partner willing, able, and delighted to do this learning and this work with me. 

On that note - I can hear Luca waking up from his nap. So I’m off to put our comforter (covered in covid) in the dryer, again, get some dinner ready for the kiddo, and kiss my hardworking man. My head hurts, and I can feel that covid sun-downing thing creeping through my sinuses. My god am I tired. 

But I know we can get through this. We always do - together.