By Pattie Mihalik

For the past few weeks in my head I keep hearing Patsy Cline singing “One Day at a Time.”

If there ever was a time when we have to take one day at a time, it’s now when the coronavirus is upending the world as we once knew it.

Like many others observing strict sheltering in place, I feel like I’m enduring house arrest.

I find myself thinking of that old elephant joke: How do you eat an elephant?

“One bite at a time.”

How do I get through the long tedious days of staying home?

One day at a time.

I sing, “Show me the stairway I have to climb,

Lord for my sake,

Help me to take, One day at a time.”

Mostly, it worked, at least for a while.

But one day this week as I sat waiting for the doctor in his examining room I was overcome with anxiety about the future.

I was feeling sorry for myself as I realized it would be a long time before I could fly to see my daughters, a long time before I could enjoy something as simple as a social outing with friends.

A long time until I could do something like go for a medical appointment or to a grocery store without fear of contacting the highly contagious virus.

Just how contagious it is became terrifyingly clear when I read in the morning paper about someone contracting the virus by sitting in a church pew that was occupied earlier in the day by someone who had the virus.

Even the words to “One Day at a Time” filled me with a morose feeling, not comfort, especially when I thought of one lines in the song.

“Yesterday’s gone, Sweet Jesus, and tomorrow may never be mine.”

Sometimes, we can create our own panic by the thoughts that take over our mind.

And sometimes, we can “set ourselves straight” by doing an attitude adjustment.

I’m being perfectly honest when I tell you I let myself get depressed at the thought that we may only have one day.

We are not even guarantee that day.

I’m still being honest when I say my anxiety lifted when I realized we are only guaranteed the present moment.

For the past two years one of my most important resolutions is to “live the moment.”

In fact, in the past I often wrote about squeezing every ounce of joy out of each moment we are given.

I’ve been trying to do more than “live the moment.”

I want to make that moment count for something.

We cannot live in the past, and I’ve long realized it’s counterproductive to a meaningful life if we try to hang on to the past.

And if you want to waste the present moment you are given, spend it by worrying about something in the future.

I realize I’ve fallen into the trap of wasting present moments by doing exactly that.

I realized most of the anxiety I’ve been having is due to worrying about the future instead of living the present moment.

I worry about being able find enough food and household staples to get me through this crisis.

I worry that I may be stricken with the virus just from being in the doctor’s office. It’s a dangerous place to be because people don’t come there because they’re healthy.

I always tell my daughters that one could sit and worry for hours on end about something in the future. Yet, all that worrying can do absolutely nothing to change the problem.

But in the meantime, we’ve wasted our present moment. We let it wash away in a sea of self-driven anxiety.

I finally gave myself a much needed attitude adjustment.

While I love Patsy Cline’s version of “One Day at a Time,” I no longer concentrate on taking one day at a time.

Instead, I’m taking stock of each moment, trying to find joy in the present.

Yes, it’s true that it will probably be a while before I can visit my family or enjoy activities with friends.

But that doesn’t mean the day is totally without its pleasure.

When I go for my morning walk I take a deep breath of gratitude for the gift of a new day.

I note how the day feels on my skin and look around so I don’t miss any of nature’s pleasures.

I laugh at loud at the little bird singing its heart out, maybe to get my attention and make me thankful for that little pleasures.

When I was on my bike riding through the neighborhood I had to cross over to the pavement when I came to the highway.

A walker in front of me had earphones on and couldn’t hear me when I asked to pass her. Nor did she see me when I got off the bike and wheeled it closer to her.

It made me wonder how people can go through life missing out on the sights and sounds.

That too, was a lesson for me, a lesson not to have blinders on as go through my day.

My world may have shrunk but it’s still wondrous and I don’t want to miss the enjoyment of the moment.

No more pity parties for me.

I remain ever so grateful for every moment I am given.

Contact Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net.