Hello there! It’s been a rather long while since I dropped the c-bomb on you.
Forgive me, guys. I’ve had a difficult time trying to wrap up this part II because it’s centered around the ongoing strangeness of this year along with my personal thoughts and recent experience of which I don’t feel wholly comfortable expressing.
This is a delicate subject to discuss as none of us are experiencing the pandemic in the same way as the next person. Mine has been a mixed bag. So, I’ve been writing, rewriting, dragging my feet and rewriting again, trying to find a conclusion to this segment without sounding angry, depressing or insensitive.
First things first, the most vexing question on everyone’s mind;
ummmm, are you ok???
Yep, totally fine. As in, I’m alive and nothing terrible happened.
We’re gonna get deeper into the many layers of what fine really means, though.
But next order of business, finally, are the answers to the last lingering questions from the previous post:
Did I win the election? I should have as I didn’t try very hard.
Did I get a puppy? I did not.
Was I hospitalized? Nope.
Did I make it to Dallas? I moved as scheduled.
Despite some grievances, the all-around outcome of my scenario was actually fortuitous, in a way. Totally serious.
I was able to move without worrying about how much time to take off from work since I wasn’t allowed to be at work. And then I was able to claim the work loss through the state of Texas.
Yep.
Unemployment benefits can be claimed if you are able to work, but can’t. I was able to work from home as I felt well enough to do so, but my new employer didn’t allow it.
That was a shitty discovery, but better to know up front so as best to plan ahead for disasters down the road. And by planning, I mean, I need to make sure there’s enough money to cover my ass for an extended period of time in case of a mandatory stay at home order, because I don’t get paid if I’m not in the office. #jobsecurity
And bonus! I went from 200 hours of accumulated paid vacation from my former employer to nada. (But I knew this much when I signed the offer letter.) That’s right, I have zero PTO available to cover said disasters until February, at which point I’ll start accumulating 6.6 hours per month… #supersecure
Obviously, my sense of humor is still intact, but… how am I really?
Emotionally, a wreck.
Health-wise, still fine.
The c-word for me was something akin to a mild cold. I was fatigued the first 3 days and mostly laid around (at my hotel, where I first felt sick) and then I went through the usual, rapid motions of any other illness I’ve had before; sore throat, cough, chills, stuffy nose. I felt relatively well a week past the first sign of symptoms and, as far as I know, didn’t spread my nasty germs to anyone in close contact.
In fact, I confess that the absolute worst part of catching the virus was…other peoples’ reactions to my news.
Yeaaahhh.
I felt shame for getting sick, so much so, that I regretted taking the test… and informing people of the results. Even months later upon mentioning the illness, there’s this kind of dumbfounded response as if I’d deceived people with a dark secret or they’re amazed that I look healthy and… normal.
Ahhh, to be normal. What is that like I wonder?
Probably boring af.
So, while I was sick, I just wanted to feel better. I wanted to feel comforted and loved and that everything was fine. Because everything was fine. Except, other people acted like it wasn’t and I didn’t know how to receive the sympathies for what should have been the most horrible thing to have ever befallen me. There were moments in which I considered fabricating beautiful lies for every next person who asked me what was new while I was in the midst of my quarantine because I didn’t want to hear another overly dramatic comment about getting sick.
Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like an asshole. I know that the words came from kind hearts and I’m lucky to have people who care enough to be so concerned. We’re all just wingin’ this shit as best we can.
Besides, like I said, everything seemed to work out in good favor overall. I should be happy, no? Ummm… sure.
I survived well enough.
I am surviving.
The most ironic thing that has enveloped my thoughts lately is what a therapist used to tell me when I started tumbling down my pit of despair: don’t stay home and ruminate, go out and do something, be around people.
It is excellent advice, but… I wonder what he’s telling people now.
This new world isn’t kind to people living alone with anxiety or depression. And it most certainly isn’t kind to people who appreciate a nice hug every now and again. I hadn’t considered that physical touch would be such a rarity after I moved. It’s a natural act of affection as mindless and basic as breathing. Yet the reality is there are no handshakes, highfives or hugs for those who don’t have someone unafraid to give them. It was made most apparent as friends and acquaintances alike have leapt backwards away from my extended arms.
That sounds exaggerated, but it isn’t.
There’s also this perpetual cognizance to keep my hands to myself now that touching is taboo. I don’t try to touch people anymore and my heart writhes every time I catch myself wanting to.
At least my Houston people don’t disappoint to fill up that much needed hug quotient.
I often feel empathetic to other’s fears and pain.
But I don’t understand this fear.
And I’m not even sure what it is people are afraid of… disease? Death? The risk for both was always prevalent in our day to day lives, we just didn’t have anyone reporting the scoreboard to us 24/7 for several months like with the pandemic.
Imagine hearing on the news today that over 7,500 people have passed away in the states. How much terror would consume you from hearing that number and how they passed?
That was the actual average number of deaths per day in the United States in 2018. Per. Day.
It’s the skewed portrayal of the virus that has people turning on each other and fearing their lives, when the reality is that the overwhelming majority of the infected are recovering at home with mild symptoms. Yet news programs have chosen to fuel airwaves with the most tragic examples of the pandemic.
I think it’s good to be aware of hospital bed shortages and to be mindful of protecting each other by not coughing openly, but NOT to be instilled with fear of the worst cases and prejudice against those who get sick.
I am so fatigued by this inescapable reality. I feel it as much as the pain of the cruel practice called social distancing, as much as the remorse for families losing loved ones they couldn’t visit, as much as the admiration for the healthcare workers dedicating their efforts above and beyond. I feel all of it, except the fear.
In the meantime, I am trying not to allow the circumstances to hold me back too much. The biggest battle is keeping my focus on personal fulfillment and off of uncontrollable circumstances. Writing this piece (and rewriting it so much) was uncomfortable, and eventually, burdensome. I want to leave my burden here in these words that I hope to never write about again, and I want to say thank you all so much for reading and hanging in there with me.