I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville wife and mother with a passion for family travel, (mostly) healthy cooking, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries with you, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark.
March 3, 2022
We are getting our first taste of spring weather this week here in Nashville. Temperatures are in the 70s, the sun is shining, the skies are a fresh-washed blue, and the daffodils are blooming. After months of pandemic-related problems and anxiety, it feels like we’re finally turning the page on a devastating chapter in our world’s history.
Who knew the next chapter would potentially be even worse?
Although I knew about the unrest between Russia and Ukraine, I admit I haven’t paid a whole lot of attention over the last couple of months. I’d hoped it was another case of political posturing that would be worked out at the eleventh hour by a tableful of dark-suited diplomats, with a photo of the negotiations shared on the social media sites of news organizations. Instead, to the world’s horror, Vladimir Putin ordered his troops to invade Ukraine, resurrecting the specter of world war and nuclear annihilation.
And suddenly, the world has been turned upside down.
For the last week, I’ve watched countless videos of gunfire and explosions and tanks and soldiers in neighborhoods that look like they could be here in the United States. I’ve thought about what it would be like to leave my home not knowing where I’d ultimately end up or if I’d ever see that home again. I’ve thought about having to leave my husband behind and worrying every day about whether he was dead or alive. I’ve thought about not having access to food or water or the medical services and prescriptions my family members rely on to stay healthy and well. I’ve thought about seeing bodies in our streets and hospitals and schools on fire.
It’s almost impossible to comprehend these things ever happening to me, and yet they are happening to people like me at this very moment — people who probably felt the same way I did not so long ago.
How quickly things can change.
When I don’t publish anything on this site for a few weeks, it’s often because I’m just busy doing other things. But sometimes, it’s because something is on my mind and heart and I feel completely blocked until I either write it down or wait a while for that feeling to pass. Writing it down is tough and painful and much, much harder than just going silent — but writing it down feels like the right thing to do, especially if it might help someone else out there feel less alone.
I don’t have any answers or solutions to the anxiety of this time — Emerging from Covid straight into the threat of a world war feels mentally and emotionally exhausting. But because worrying doesn’t change things and feels unproductive, I’m trying to live life right now as normally as possible. I’ll continue writing posts about fun and frivolous topics here; I will always look for joy and laughter even in the darkest of times.
But I also wanted to take a moment to to acknowledge the grief and nervousness and fear many of us are holding inside of us right now, even as we pretend to each other that we’re all just fine. Maybe we’re not fine right now. And maybe we need to get better at admitting it.