I have been wrestling with much in my head. There is so much I want to write, so many pieces to our current situation I want to dissect and understand. But nothing was coming. It’s a jumble. So I shall begin with myself. Not the science of the virus. Not the frustration with the politic. Not with the frustration of the public. Not the admiration of humanity. But with me. In my heart I know the majority of you out there are going to share in much of what I am saying. I know fundamentally my experience is not unique. I know that some people are in far more dire circumstances than I.
When this viral freight train started baring down on the place where I live, I made some very conscious decisions for my mental health. I would limit negative and hysterical social media. Look to reputable resources for information. Stay in contact with trusted people. Be of service when and where I can. Get rest, eat responsibly and follow my self care plan. Ask for help when I need. Be easy on myself about my daily to do lists.
With every rise in number affected, hysterical reaction (toilet paper?! I mean come on…), good and questionable government response, restriction of places to go and number of people to see, I kept to my plan.
The last few days have gotten harder. Where I am, we are near the start of the third week of ‘social distancing.’ The restrictions have continued to tighten as portions of the public are not heeding the advice of the very well trained doctors. nurses and scientists. This is frustrating, and by far one the scariest pieces to this. People’s need to be extreme, it either complete lockdown, or just amble along and what ever will happen will happen. The fear, frustration and confusion are palpable for this Empath. Even sitting in the quiet dark of the early morning as I am now, when I am disconnected from the internet and tv, I can feel it lapping at me, like ocean waves moving up the beach at high tide. I have been diligent about checking in on people I care about. Knowing that this situation negatively impacts mental health and communication and support are key. But we are all feeling it and the struggle to maintain balance is getting harder.
I had read an account from someone in China, where they are much farther down this path than we are, that the third week is the hardest. That after that point, it was almost a resignation to the new normal. We are in the start of week three here, and I feel my hope shrinking, I feel the isolation eating at me.
In the last few days, my wide circle of support has shrank, everyone is trying to come to their own terms of what this means financially, physically and emotionally for their own immediate families. The fear is rising as there is much confusion and frustration trying to access programs for financial help, figure out education for our kids and try to gauge what are the normal responses to this very abnormal situation. So they are closing ranks, closing down. Even within my home, where thankfully I am not alone, I have my husband and my daughter. Each of us trying to manage our own and help each other. But the fractures are beginning to show.
My husband still has his job, the hours are iffy, but we are thankful. He is our house’s designate to go out into the ghostly world. It is scary out there, it is different. I don’t envy that. He is inundated with being out there, so he is remiss to discuss much of it when he gets home, he is quite silent as he is trying to cope with his stress response to this. At first this wasn’t the case, there was still lively discourse and positivity that this is all temporary. But it is wearing on him. He doesn’t want to rehash the politic or the new numbers, he sees it all day long. He is frustrated. He is tired.
My eleven year old daughter is trying to come to grips with the loss of school, dance and her social circle. I am trying to help her navigate assimilating all of this, keep her engaged, entertained and educated. She has no sibling in the house with which to spend time with. She uses social media, but I am the only warm human body in the house all day, and given how scary the world is, I am the one she is stuck to. She is frustrated, scared and bored.
I love these two with my whole heart. I deeply care for my friends and clients as well. I have been doing my best to forage ahead, plan, encourage, support and acknowledge the individual feelings. I have done my best to stay informed enough to calmly pass along good information.
The last two days have been by far the hardest. I have not been reaching out just to check in on others, but I have been reaching out for my own mental health. When the question comes of “how are you?” I pass it off with a trite- ‘surviving like the rest of us.’ But with it wearing on all of us, I have not felt I can speak up much, desperately wanting someone to ask, or at the very least see me. I feel guilty complaining. It feels wrong asking for the type of support I know others need, probably worse than I do. I feel weak for whining. I feel bad saying I need.
I need adult interaction. I need recognition that I too have lost my job, part of my identity. I am not in my element homeschooling, I am afraid, I am angry, I am terrified how this is affecting my child and I am not doing the right things to safe guard her emotionally and mentally. I don’t know the right thing to do. I feel lesser than, because I am not contributing to my household financially. I feel useless I can not treat my clients.
I need it acknowledged that MY feelings are valid and worthy of compassion and space to express, not comparison, overridden or “well it’s everywhere and we are all going through this, others have it worse.” I need it acknowledged that I am grieving the temporary loss of my jobs, which are a major way that I am able to help others.
I need it acknowledged that in navigating the responsible restrictions we have been given, I have had to give up an important parts of my own self care. Therefore my body pain is staying elevated, my anxiety is humming. This in turn is making some of my other selfceare avenues of exercise and meditation harder. I need my tears dried. I need it acknowledged that for me, right now, this FUCKING SUCKS DONKEY BALLS. I need a big hug.
And so, after a good cry in the bathroom, or in the dark of the early morning, after venting blindly to you my readers, I will get on with it. I will check in and still help where I can. I will cheerlead, I will support, I will navigate, I will educate. I will cook, clean, try to bring something helpful and beautiful to the world. I will get on with it. You will get on with it. We will get on with it.
Thank you for reading. Be kind. Be smart. Be aware. Be compassionate.
Standing Still at the Speed of Light 