Every good plan has a backup.

At least, that’s what I learned in years of management.

But with COVID-19, planning is difficult.

When Jacob was using, I could never plan.  For a brief time we got into a semi-predictable rhythm.  He worked at a local coffee shop.  I worked at the hospital.  My husband kept watch over our household.

In the evening there might be a moment to catch up across the dinner table lovingly set with Jacob’s favorite foods, hoping to entice conversation.

One weekend we planned a hike on the Appalachian Trail.  It would mean an all-day excursion, hours away from home.

The morning of the hike followed a particularly bad night in which I had made repeated visits to Jacob’s bedside, kneeling on the floor near his pillow, checking for his breath.  That night was the closest I ever came to calling 911.

I couldn’t leave my house that day, nor many others. It was impossible to think ahead.  Uncertainty became the norm.

Today, it feels eerily familiar.

Planning requires some degree of control,  but like living with addiction, this virus escapes control.

Uncertainty returns.

As I learned from years loving someone through addiction,  and even now through recovery, I can’t control my outside world.

But I can control how I react to it.

Of that, I am certain.

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