We’re (more than) three months into quarantine – my personal clock hit the three-month mark last weekend. Massachusetts, like a lot of states, is slowly reopening, even as coronavirus cases continue to appear. Recently, I’ve been out to a few local businesses that were closed for a while, but otherwise, my routine hasn’t changed much since March. And I’m frankly sick of it.
I keep seeing essays or tweets around the Internet of things people want to keep from this time: more time with their families, fewer commutes, less traffic congestion, and so on. That’s all fine and good – and I have a few silver linings of my own. But honestly, there’s a lot from this time I don’t want to keep.
I don’t want to keep the constant, gnawing anxiety: will I get sick? Will someone I love get sick? Will I/they be able to afford the medical bills? What if they don’t get better?
I don’t want to keep the constant risk/reward calculation (what one friend called “mental actuarial tables”) that goes on in my brain every time I leave the house. I am sick and tired of mentally estimating the risk of a walk or a hug or a trip to the grocery store. I miss being able to plan travel, or have anything but a walk or a Trader Joe’s trip to look forward to.
I don’t want to keep the constant isolation, so acute it sometimes makes me cry, sitting here at my kitchen table with no one else around. I miss my coworkers, my librarians and baristas and yoga instructors and especially my florist. Most of all I miss my friends, even those I have seen since quarantine started. We go on walks and wave goodbye from behind our masks instead of sharing a meal together and parting with hugs. It helps, but it’s not the same.
I don’t want to keep this incompetent president, unwilling to listen to scientific experts or wise advisors, fanning the flames of partisan division for his own selfish ends (or because he just likes chaos, I can’t tell). The U.S. response to the pandemic has been fragmented and inadequate, and I am frustrated and sad that so many people have died.
I don’t want to rush into a post-pandemic “new normal” until we can do so safely, and I think we’ve got a long road ahead. I will keep taking precautions and wearing a mask when I go out, for as long as it takes. But I don’t want to keep so many aspects of this time. And I needed to say so.
cakes, tea and dreams 
Well stated. I’m with you. Big (virtual) hugs.
Virtual hugs back!
I feel exactly the same way. On a work call recently, we were all asked to share something that we were grateful to this pandemic for bringing into our lives; I declined to participate. I’m not glad about any of this (although, like you, I also have silver linings for which I am deeply thankful). Thank you.
Agreed. My own head is such a dangerous place to live, and I spend a lot of time alone there right now.
Same.
Well said, Katie. I don’t like the old normal for a lot of reasons, but I don’t like much of anything about this. All the things you mentioned can definitely, definitely go. And like Mom said, my own head is not so good on its own. I fight hard for peace of mind these days.
I agree totally and passed it on to my friends
We hear you. I’m still amazed when someone says, “When this is over,” because for weeks into months, I couldn’t imagine that scenario for our nation. I’m getting there, but for now, I am deeply grateful that there’s a drug (for real, this time) that helps save the very sickest. Overall, that discovery is a miracle. Meanwhile, though: *sigh…
❤
I hear you. I also have some silver linings, and honestly I spend so much energy consoling my kids about the loss of their routines and how much they miss their friends and our family that I haven’t had a chance to think too much about how much *I* miss everyone. Then we had a ‘goodbye parking lot parade’ to say goodbye to our pastor, who is leaving for another call, and his family, and I saw a dear friend of mine there as well. She’s having a hard time with some things, and I simply *hated* that I couldn’t get out of the car and give her a hug (she has a new baby and my husband is high-risk, so we couldn’t risk it). And I was sad that we couldn’t send our pastor off with a big Lutheran potluck, and that we had to experience his last service at our church via YouTube (though that’s better than nothing). That really brought it all home to me, and I’ve been trying to process it for the last couple days. My state is experiencing a spike in cases bc our governor is in lockstep with the president and sees no reason to halt or even slow our ongoing reopening, so unfortunately I don’t see our circumstances here changing any time soon.
The only thing we can control in life is our own response to it. This is easier to say than to do: “Worry does not solve tomorrow’s problems; it only steals today’s peace of mind.” I encourage you to take those steps necessary, to do what you can, and then leave it up to God.
Amen. NY has mostly opened back up but with cases rising in other parts of the country and a second wave almost guaranteed in the fall, I can’t relax. I see people gathered at outdoor restaurants and as much as I’d love to sit at a bar with my boyfriend on a hot summer night and have a cold beer, it still feels way too risky to me. I am trying to create a new normal, a new set of routines and habits that don’t revolve around being social or being a consumer–the two are so tied together sometimes– but it’s HARD. I am fortunate enough to live close to my family and we’ve been able to have some socially-distanced gatherings out on my parents’ back deck, but I find myself letting my guard down during those times and then going home and worrying if I’ve put my mother, who has stage 4 breast cancer (but is mostly really healthy), at great risk. I’m in much better emotional/mental shape than a lot of people, who are understandably struggling for many different reasons, but it’s still so difficult. Virtual hugs to all of you! xo