My cat keeps chewing on the plastic litter bag and making himself gag. Something is wrong with my clothes dryer and it's taking twice as long to dry stuff as it should. The grocery stores are out of my dog's favorite treats and I think she's clinically depressed. I've just participated in a parenting moment that officially scores in my top three worst. My husband's work has been deemed essential and I'm constantly worried, both about his well being and what he might bring home with him. My hands have been washed so many times today, they're starting to look like the creepy movie poster from Day of the Dead. It's just after lunch on day seven of self isolation due to COVID-19, and we're living the dream.
I was feeling quite sorry for myself this morning. Driving back home from what I knew was going to be my last grocery shopping trip for awhile, my brain was occupied with trying to determine how long our fresh food might last us. I experienced that sensation I get when things are beyond my control and there's nothing I can do to influence them. And then, I came up behind a vehicle that was moving really slowly, with the hazard lights blinking. Then I noticed that there were many cars ahead of me with their hazard lights blinking. Puzzled, I found a gap in traffic on the left-hand side and passed them.
Finally, at the front of the line of slow moving vehicles, there was a hearse. Ohhhhhhh. A funeral procession.
Imagine. Imagine that a loved one of yours died, perhaps unexpectedly, during this period of COVID-19 panic, social distancing, and self-quarantine. Imagine navigating the unpredictable storm of grief without even one consoling hug from a friend. How demoralizing it would be, to attempt to mourn someone in the absence of gathering a crowd of humans who were significant to them. Imagine, during a time that is incredibly disorienting to begin with, having to adhere to the protocols of a pandemic.
And here I am, a car-full of groceries, heading back to a healthy family and the relative safety of our home. Well, I feel sheepish.
Social distancing and isolation are hard, there is no doubt about it. I'm ready to throttle a family member at any given moment, even though they are my favorite people on the planet. I feel a constant urge to go out, even though I'm an introvert who loves to stay in. Losing the remote control makes me feel like weeping. We are all preoccupied with an onslaught of statistics and predictions about what's to come, fueling our propensity for anxiety and worry. Even if we are not sick, we are certainly not our best selves, physically or emotionally. This is not fixed by the eternal optimism, social shaming, or fear mongering that some folks insist on. It is not fixed by crafting the perfect schedule for our kids, by living in our pajamas every day, or by the very large "free with purchase" bag of chocolate offered by Superstore if you spend enough money.
In truth, I don't know what the discomfort of living through a pandemic is fixed with. Probably nothing. Likely, we just have to be uncomfortable. And when I think about it that way, I realize that this should be a piece of cake because I've been uncomfortable for months already; the only difference is that I had a larger measure of control before the arrival of COVID-19.
So, I have something to offer. Most days are hard for me right now, but I'll bet they're hard for you too. Why don't we chat? I'm not going anywhere (literally). I can be on the phone or your computer screen at a moment's notice. Full disclosure though, I may not brush my hair. I'll look forward to our conversations - let's be uncomfortable together.
Comments