Hibernation

What do you think historians and sociologists will say about this time, this period in our collective lives when they look back on it in 50 or 100 years? Will they look at all the good people are doing, donating masks, 3D printing protective gear, taking food to the vulnerable people? Will they look at the rallies people have against social distancing measures, and try to break down why America more than other countries is experiencing this pushback on public health? Or will they wonder what life was like for regular people cooped up in their homes for a month or more?

I have gone into hibernation, and I’m trying to climb my way out of it. I feel guilty complaining – our situation is so very much better than 90% of people. We’re on a lovely finca in the countryside with a view of a big sky, green hillsides, a pool, and plenty of land. We aren’t cooped up in a tiny flat with no natural light. We are quite lucky, and we know it.

And still the days just float from one to the other. News and numbers come into my head, and then leave, replaced by the next worry, or the next scary number. I order groceries for my mom online – a feat of modern technology that I never cease to marvel at. I go into town once every 10 days or so for a big shop. I spend more time than I ever thought imaginable sorting the refrigerator, keeping track of when meats go bad, what needs to be cooked when, and what should go in the freezer. I arrange and re-arrange the freezer daily. I prep and plan meals. I never could have expected that being voluntarily quarantined meant that I would spend hours each day cleaning out the refrigerator and freezer. It’s bizarre.

I spend a lot of time thinking about Anne Frank, and other people who have had to hide in one place for long periods of time. I know that the human spirit is resilient, and you do what you have to do, but I don’t think my mental health and anxiety could take being in hiding like Anne Frank’s family was. I’m not sure what the alternative would have been, but I know the panic attack I got when a cold I’m fighting came on. It’s not the virus – I don’t have a fever or a cough – just a some aches and a feeling of general malaise. But when it first started I was not only convinced that I had the virus, but also that I was going to die of it. I deal with anxiety anyway, and between the stress of life turned upside down, and the growing numbers of cases and deaths, it just about sent me over the edge.

Since then I severely limit the time I spend reading, listening to, or watching the news. I fill up that brain space with uplifting things like meditations, Schubert, or Ted Talks. Even funny TV shows are better than the depressing and anxiety-producing news (but seriously, Chrissy’s Court on Quibi is about the funniest thing I’ve seen in months). I’m less informed, but my anxiety is in check, and that’s the most important thing for me right now.

And I’m starting to crawl back out into the world – at least the online world – by getting back to blogging, and taking a small step at a time. An instagram post here. A Facebook comment there. Tentative steps followed by an evaluation to see if it made me feel good or bad (hint: Twitter is a shitshow that generally makes me feel awful).

My cold is just that – a cold. The world isn’t ending. And we’ll get through this together as long as we don’t let our primal fight-or-flight brains take over, and instead we focus on what really matters, and what’s really going on.