Last Wednesday I turned 27. This morning I called out sick from work because I coughed twice. I’m not infected, but I am scared.
I’ve never done this before. I don’t think any of us have. I’m used to living with a certain amount of uncertainty. It’s par for the course when you are trying to write for a living. I’ve moved across country solo to a place where I had no housing, no job, no friends. I’ve traveled alone through Europe. I’ve quit jobs with no safety net in place. I’m not a stranger to the unknown.
But this is something else entirely, and it has much more to do with other people than with me. I don’t understand how and why people are acting the way they are acting. As someone who is extremely sensitive to other people’s emotions, right now is like living inside a blender. Whenever I leave the house, I’m overwhelmed by waves of panic and anxiety. When I stay in my house, I can feel it radiating through the walls. There’s a tightness in my chest and jaw.
It’s odd. I don’t know anyone who has contracted this virus. I don’t even know anyone who knows anyone who has contracted the virus. I just know what the people around me are feeling, and for once I don’t know what to say or do to make it better.
I want people to know that things will be okay, but I don’t know that. I want to share my love and strength, but right now I’m feeling tapped out and angry. I think I’m going to make it through this. I think we all will. But I don’t know how to shield myself from the psychological damage of a population in terror.
I can take courage from a memory, though. I remember when I was seventeen, and I thought the world was going to end. At least for me. I couldn’t imagine a way out. I couldn’t imagine that a tomorrow would ever appear. Thankfully, it did. And then another one and then another, and now ten years later I am twenty-seven.
Last Tuesday, the night before my birthday, I took the bus out to Ocean Beach and walked along the shore. I watched people playing with their children, fishing, surfing, walking their dogs. I sat on the side of a dune and watched the sun set. As the last rays dropped below the horizon, I realized I had tears in my eyes, not only because the sunset was beautiful, but because I knew in my heart that it would rise again.
I walked into the ocean – baptizing myself as I do every year – and welcomed in the cold. Tomorrow may be uncertain, but I’m so grateful that it’s coming.
Thank you, Laur. I, too, believe we will come out of this. Love and peace. Lois
LikeLike