It’s been over a year since the latest virus interrupted life. Garnishing SARS-CoV-2 on top of natural disasters (earthquakes, fire, flood, extreme weather), manmade disasters (war, pollution, divisive politics, prejudice, police brutality, general meanness and lack of empathy), plus the limitations of pandemic conditions (masking, social distance, avoidance of crowds and people in general) and everyday challenges (personal, financial, professional, biological) that remain about the only elements “normal” to these times, can leave me totally spent.
Isolation is one of the toughest to balance. Luckily I have a small safe pod. However, I find my social skills crashing along with a tendency to prefer the isolation status in the desire to simplify things.
My patience, never a strong virtue, is eroding. Making appointments to go to the closed library is burdensome. Doctor visits are most likely “virtual” with more DIY elements. And SPAM email? A daily routine that adds up to about five hours a month is spent sorting internet garbage from one email address. We’ll avoid, for now, the auto warranty and other SPAM calls to our mobiles.
Perhaps one boon is that my limited wardrobe is not challenged by social norms and my pants have expandable waistbands.
Of course vaccinations for COVID-19 are being done for those of us who believe in science, have access, mobility and health options. Still the SARS-CoV-2 virus and its variants will be around and care is needed.
I came into this pandemic in a weakened state after four years of concentrated Trumpism. It still looms on the horizon, along with white supremacy and other formerly repressed ills.
Plus which as an older person I’m discovering too much about how my biological self is engineered. The pandemic seems to have exacerbated my body’s weaknesses: lungs, teeth, eyes. I also have what my husband fondly refers to as “a punk body.” For example, with the 2nd Pfizer I again got the shot in my right arm. The right arm hurt if I tried to sleep on that side for a day or two. Afterwards my left arm developed sympathy pains. This “punk body” is an ongoing state of affairs and consistently amazes yet lacks much in delightfulness.
A couple years ago our grandson Keenan made the remark, “It’s all good.” It has stayed with me and I use it in my head as often as I can remember. Another repeat phrase is “Thank the lord, thank the universe, thank the earth, for everything.” This phrasing is often followed by “And may all beings find happiness and avoid suffering.”
The true life raft for me, besides a loving partner, family and friends, is in creating and enjoying art. It has been, since a difficult childhood, a means to connect and express.
Isolation is one of the toughest to balance. Luckily I have a small safe pod. However, I find my social skills crashing along with a tendency to prefer the isolation status in the desire to simplify things.
My patience, never a strong virtue, is eroding. Making appointments to go to the closed library is burdensome. Doctor visits are most likely “virtual” with more DIY elements. And SPAM email? A daily routine that adds up to about five hours a month is spent sorting internet garbage from one email address. We’ll avoid, for now, the auto warranty and other SPAM calls to our mobiles.
Perhaps one boon is that my limited wardrobe is not challenged by social norms and my pants have expandable waistbands.
Of course vaccinations for COVID-19 are being done for those of us who believe in science, have access, mobility and health options. Still the SARS-CoV-2 virus and its variants will be around and care is needed.
I came into this pandemic in a weakened state after four years of concentrated Trumpism. It still looms on the horizon, along with white supremacy and other formerly repressed ills.
Plus which as an older person I’m discovering too much about how my biological self is engineered. The pandemic seems to have exacerbated my body’s weaknesses: lungs, teeth, eyes. I also have what my husband fondly refers to as “a punk body.” For example, with the 2nd Pfizer I again got the shot in my right arm. The right arm hurt if I tried to sleep on that side for a day or two. Afterwards my left arm developed sympathy pains. This “punk body” is an ongoing state of affairs and consistently amazes yet lacks much in delightfulness.
A couple years ago our grandson Keenan made the remark, “It’s all good.” It has stayed with me and I use it in my head as often as I can remember. Another repeat phrase is “Thank the lord, thank the universe, thank the earth, for everything.” This phrasing is often followed by “And may all beings find happiness and avoid suffering.”
The true life raft for me, besides a loving partner, family and friends, is in creating and enjoying art. It has been, since a difficult childhood, a means to connect and express.