Grounded

You know I've always been a dreamer

Spent my life runnin' 'round

And it's so hard to change

Can't seem to settle down

But the dreams I've seen lately keep on turning out

And burning out and turning out the same

So put me on a highway and show me a sign

One of the many things that I’ve had to get used to during the COVID-19 lockdown is that all of my business travel has come to a screeching halt. When people used to ask me if I travel a lot, I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. When I think of traveling “a lot,” I think of Ryan Bingham, the character that George Clooney portrayed in the movie Up in the Air. Those who watched the movie will remember that Bingham was obsessed with reaching 10 million frequent flyer miles. I am nowhere close to that, but I have traveled enough to enjoy some of the perks of frequent airline and hotel rewards.

My last business trip was March 4-8. When I returned to Dallas on Sunday, March 8, I began to pack for my next trip, which was scheduled for March 13-17. In addition to that trip, I had four other planned business trips through April 16. Then news came on March 10 that the conference scheduled for the upcoming weekend in Tampa, Florida was cancelled. Within days, all of the other conferences and meetings were cancelled. On Friday, March 13, the day I was scheduled to fly to Tampa, we learned that we would be “working from home” until further notice.

I have a “love/hate” relationship with business travel. Contrary to popular opinion, it’s not glamorous; the days and nights are long, and unless I travel a day early, I rarely get to see much of the city where the conference or meeting is being held. However, most of my closest friends work in the same field that I do, so business trips mean that I get to spend time with many of them, even if it’s just sitting in meetings together. Plus, I have always found my career stimulating, so it has never really seemed like work.

Not only did my business travel end in March, but all other forms of entertainment I enjoy were essentially shut down. I live within blocks of numerous restaurants and bars; prior to COVID-19, I would spend Friday nights, if I was in Dallas, at one of those spots working on my blog. I live across the street from American Airlines Center, so when the Dallas Mavericks had a home game, I was often there.

The truth is that I don’t do well with inactivity. I don’t find enjoyment in binge-watching television (no judgment here for those who do; it’s just not for me). I own a television, but the only time that it is turned on is if my husband is at my apartment watching ESPN. Even in the past, if we were watching a football or basketball game, I was probably also doing several other tasks during the games. I just don’t like being still (which may be why I continue to struggle with meditation).

I live in a small apartment and had just moved in December, so all of my closets, drawers, etc. were already organized. I’ve been at a loss. I had also gotten some unsettling news at work just weeks earlier and was personally struggling while trying to care for my staff.

I want to make it clear that my struggles are minor compared to those who have lost their jobs, economic security, and health due to the pandemic. I understand and recognize my privilege. I really do. But, with no other outlet, I started working even longer hours. I couldn’t sleep, so if I woke up at 3 a.m., I would grab my laptop and start working. I loathe naps, so sleeping during the day hasn’t been an option. Plus, the work that had been my passion for my entire career and had given me so much joy was no longer available to me. So, my days and nights became a perpetual cycle of frustration.

For the past 10 weeks, my only travel and bright spot in my day has been to go for a 7-mile walk on the Katy Trail. I actually think I’ve done an admirable job of adjusting to the shelter-in-place guidelines. I’m a public health professional, so I understand the need for the guidelines. I am aware of the consequences of endangering others with careless behavior, and I would never choose to put my own desires above others’ safety.

Anyone who has ever flown has heard the flight attendant utter the words, “Should the cabin pressure drop, put your own oxygen mask on first, then help others.” I’ve heard those words hundreds of times both from flight attendants and leadership experts. To be able to help others, we must take care of ourselves first. The past 10 weeks have been hard for so many people, including me. But I haven’t done a very good job of taking care of myself, and it may have hindered my ability to care for others.

In late February, one week before my last business trip and life as we knew it before COVID-19, my husband and I celebrated our birthdays watching The Eagles perform one of their last concerts at American Airlines Center. The Eagles were my favorite band when I was in high school and “Take it to The Limit” was one of my favorite songs. The lyrics have played over and over in my head and on my playlist for the past 10 weeks.

I’m not sure when my next business trip will be or when I will feel comfortable boarding a plane or even being in the same space with more than five people at one time. However, on May 21, I headed north on a highway, away from the city I love to a cabin in the woods.

I knew that the weekend would be different from all the other summer weekends I’ve spent there. Self-isolation would continue – just in a different place. Social distancing would prohibit hanging out with friends. I know that I’m privileged to have our cabin to escape to and that many don’t have the same advantages that I do. But for a few days, I’ll take care of myself, even in seclusion, so that I’m better prepared to take care of others.