Written on November 15th, 2020. This is a journal of my thoughts and feelings during the pandemic of COVID-19.
It’s been more than a month since I’ve posted a COVID Chronicles. I’ve been quiet over here. I really haven’t known what exactly to say. I have hesitated to hit publish because I didn’t feel like I had anything positive to write and I don’t want all of my posts to seem negative.
And yet, I feel compelled to share my experience openly and honestly, including the really crappy parts because I know I cannot be the only one who is feeling this way, and that someone somewhere might take comfort in my words. Even if they aren’t uplifting.
I’m finding it hard to write lately because so little is happening in my life. We spend nearly every day within the walls of our apartment getting out only for walks around our neighborhood with the dog, and biweekly grocery shops. Other than Zoom calls and text messages, we have no other social connections other than the two of us and our fur kids. And my writing comes from my reflections on what is going on around me.
And this pandemic just keeps going, and going, and going. The numbers are higher every day and there is no end in sight.
I think this is the part of the pandemic, other than getting sick, that I was most afraid of: the loneliness, the solitude, the quiet, the monotony, and the very long wait to see family and friends.
You can say all you want that you know something will be a marathon, but you don’t actually know it or know what that will be like until you finally reach that point of complete exhaustion and fatigue. Where every part of you wants it to be over and you just want to stop and breath. When it seems like your body is giving out. And yet somehow you know that you have to rally, you have to drag your body up, take a deep breath, and keep pushing on.
That is where we are with this pandemic. The boring yet terrifying, long hard marathon part. Nothing is thrilling like at the start, no frenzied energy left, just the consistent heavy breathing and shuffling of our feet slowly forward hopefully toward the finish line. Wherever it may be.
Christmas is on the horizon, which is hard to believe. Working in a church I realized we have now gone through almost the entire liturgical year (the calendar of church readings, themes, celebrations etc.) since the beginning of the pandemic.
I will enjoy decorating the house, wrapping presents, listening to my favourite holiday songs, and watching my favourite Christmas movies. But Christmas just won’t be the same without my family and really, it won’t be the same in almost any way. The food, the traditions, the company, or the world.
The one piece of happy news that I have is that not only is the American election over, but I am relieved at the results, as I’m sure many other are too. I won’t get into details because this isn’t a political post, but I’m glad to see Trump gone. A tiny sigh of relief for the world.
I miss all the little things and the big things. I am deeply saddened by the struggle of others all around me and I feel powerless to change anything. I’m sad, my mood and energy are low.
I don’t have a lot of positivity to offer you, so I’m sorry if that is what you came looking for, but if you are feeling at all like I am, know that you are not alone.
It’s okay to not be okay.
The only comfort and hope I can offer is just in knowing that we are limping onward, even if painfully and slowly. We will find a way to keep going. It will end someday.
I am looking for the small signs of hope and light and when I find them I will share them with you. Take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.