Can you believe this?

“Hey Siri, how days ago was March 2?

“It was 71 days ago.”

Seventy-one days since I got a call saying travel into the office in downtown Seattle wasn’t advised. Seventy-one days since I thought this was a little close to home but kind of silly. Eighty-one days since I called the Teledoc and was told not to worry about it — I hadn’t been to China. That was the only way to get it. For 70 days I’ve kept my head up and forward focused — an attempt to assume some sense of normalcy. Then came this morning.

“Can you believe this?” I thought even before my eyes opened. “Can you believe this is real?” A sense of terror swept through the dark room.

It doesn’t matter if I can believe it. It is now a matter of fact. More than 80,000 Americans are dead. Millions have lost jobs or are now working less hours (raises hand). Kids are out of school. Finances and financial security are in chaos. Cupboards are bare. Bellies are empty.

Believe it. Take a deep breath and believe it.

In the state-level tennis tournament I was in a match tie breaker — I was up 9–7. The opponent returned my serve. Her ball hit the tape and bounced back into her court. I couldn’t believe it. My eyes scanned the sideline for my captain. Based on the cheering, I had in fact won. It was unbelievable — a rough match in the Alabama heat, the final match of the tournament. I won. I shook my opponent’s hand and congratulated her. I hurried to my captain. “Did that just happen?” She hugged me. It did; it really happened.

Up until 71 days ago winning that tennis match was the most unbelievable thing I’ve experienced. Now, some six years later I find myself filled with that same feeling. But rather than joy that pumps through my heart, it’s pure fear and I have no where to look for validation. I have no arms extended to reassure me.

I’ve been able maintain a safe distance from reality thanks to where I was 71 days ago — working on assignment in Seattle. Forty-two days ago (March 31) I decided to drive home to Alabama with my mother and two dogs. Read about that here. She stayed with me for a month and headed home nine days ago. For nine days I’ve been on my own. An end is not in sight. As mentioned above I’m working reduced hours but have picked up some work thanks to an innovative friend. I’m trying to give away coaching, but no one has taken me up on it. I’m volunteering more — some communications work for a regional organization. I stopped tweeting from Dog Heaven. The grief of Jake’s death combined with the grief of the life we had is too much right now.

Where do we go from here? What does the future look like? I asked this of a client in a recent session. As a coach they’re my standard questions. My client and I assess where they are and where they want to go. We look at the many pathways forward and dissect obstacles. (Sidebar — if a coach ever tells you which way to go, they’re not a coach, they’re an adviser. Visit the International Coaching Federation to learn about coaching.) The coaching process is an unfolding of stories, ideas, and beliefs with the ultimate goal of shifting perceptions to spur changes.

Now I ask myself and you. Where do we go from here? What does the future look like?

I close my eyes and push back the voice that says, “I don’t know.” I envision a world that is humbler and kinder. More time is spent face to face than face-in-the-phone. I see more people working in non-traditional roles, more entrepreneurial. I see the desire for connection fulfilled.

“I don’t know,” is no longer acceptable. I am a rigid person living in a fluid world. I prefer order and structure. My drawers and shelves are labeled. I attempt to keep a schedule — working from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., dog walks, exercise, and meals are scattered throughout the day. It’s safe, predictable, comforting. I forgive myself and offer grace when things get out of sorts. The pandemic has shifted my perception on the need for normalcy.

Speaking of shifting perception, it’s time to shift how I answer “Can you believe this?” While I can’t believe this is how the world is. I do believe now’s the time to build a life so fabulous that I can’t believe it’s mine.

Part me of wants that feeling of watching the ball bounce in the opponent’s court. That’s a lie. Part of me does not want that. All of me wants that. All of me wants a life that is so unbelievable that I must look around for confirmation. “Did I do that? Did I make that happen?” All of me wants that. All of me deserves that. All of us deserve that.

As a coach it’s my honor to walk and talk with people as they create their unbelievable life. Right now, when things are bleak and broken is the ideal time to ask yourself those two questions — Where do we go from here? What does the future look like? Now is the time to look inward and shift your perception. As far as I’m concerned everything is up for grabs. We’ve been given this gift of time (even when it doesn’t look or feel like a gift) and how you use today will transform your tomorrow.

I don’t know what the future holds. As a writer, I get to write it. As a coach, I get to plan it. As a human, I get to experience it. I can’t wait to wake up one day and ask myself, “Can you believe this?” And then respond, “Yes, because I made it so.”