I’m sitting here on Etsy browsing face masks and have become so attune to just how very strange things are at the moment. I’m scrolling through pages upon pages of colorful hand-sewn face masks meant for times like this, intermingled with holographic “rave masks”, which look exactly as you might imagine but when adorned on cheap mannequin heads, are so much more frightening.
Exhibit A:
I’m sitting here thinking this is what is in demand right now. Not gas (which has dropped down into the mid $2 range in California, if you can believe it or not), not Easter candy, but hand-sewn fabric face masks (and, of course, the ever sought after pack of toilet paper). It’s almost unbelievable, but here we are.
A couple of weeks ago it truly did seem like things drastically changed here in CA over a matter of 48 hours. Although our little community hadn’t really taken a hit yet, the worry and anxiety absolutely became palpable. But in the midst of it all I saw our base come together in beautiful ways: people started chalking encouraging words on the stone walls that lined the neighborhood roads; teddy bears were popping up in people’s windows for little kids to find on their walks; and supportive messages for our community workers were adorning people’s front doors. This kind of solidarity is where hope lives and breathes, and hope is what’s going to keep us pushing through all of this.
As changes slowly began to creep in and people began to isolate more and more, I found myself fluctuating between extremes. One minute I would be belly laughing over a joke like this:
and the next I would have tears streaming down my face while reading a story about someone’s beloved family member dying alone due to COVID-19. And since then, this is how it has been, a constant ebb and flow of every emotion imaginable. Sometimes, they sneak up on me in the most random of ways. The other day I was putting clothes away and out of nowhere I just started throwing some of them down into the laundry basket angrily with tears flooding my eyes. My actions took me by complete surprise. Anger? Really? But it wasn’t until I read this article by the Harvard Business Review a few days later that I understood that what we are all going through, in varying degrees, is grief. Grief for the unknown future, grief for the hardships so many are facing, grief for our kids not being able to go back to school with their friends and teachers, grief for loss of freedom to be in the physical presence of our friends and loved ones, grief for sports seasons being canceled, grief for the lack of supplies for our incredible healthcare workers, grief for those who are dying alone, grief for the canceled trips, graduations, retirements, weddings…we are an actively grieving people. And, strangely, there is some kind of odd comfort in knowing we are all going through it together.
I have found myself coping with all of this in interesting ways. Personally, having a messy living space agitates my anxiety anyway, but I’ve been a bit extra vigilant about keeping up with those things lately, even though no one is coming over or would know the difference. The TV has been turned off quite a bit more than it used to be. I’ve been spending time doing things that calm me down and give me joy (like writing) that I put on the back burner before. Even something as simple as painting my nails perked up my mood for a little bit today. But not all coping mechanisms are positive. I know what my kryptonite is, and I don’t know about you, but I have to work really hard at keeping it/them from sabotaging my mental and physical health. I guess awareness is the first step in doing so, eh?
So here we are, pushing closer to the apex of COVID-19 and doing what we can to push through it together. Just keep swimming…Whoever thought that a line spoken by an animated Pacific blue tang fish would be the fight song for 2020?
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