As of today, I have been home for 15 days, with the exception of two car rides and one socially-distanced visit with Mom.
I gave up giving up Facebook for Lent, because 1) everything is Lent now and 2) there are a lot of acquaintances on there and I wanted to make sure that they’re still okay. And while there was a GOODLY amount of Coronavirus panic on there, babies are being born, pets are being adopted, and birthdays are still happening. At least this tamped down political chat. EVERYONE is against what the government is doing/not doing. No matter what.
We had a departmental Zoom Happy Hour yesterday, which was fun, considering I had to mix my own drink. Rum and Coke Zero – I had 3, which was 2 too many. We are being challenged to do a Tik Tok dance for next time. I, queen of Bad Decisions, am down for this.
My NYT crossword puzzle streak has hit 50! I think it’s because I have finally picked up on their weird tricks and quirks and have committed the name of Nick and Nora’s dog (Asta) to memory forever.
Things I am grateful for:
- Everyone in my sphere is still healthy.
- Despite some early bumps, I believe we as a country are starting to try to attempt (all of those mushy qualifiers chosen on purpose) to get ahead of this virus.
- WM and still have jobs that can be performed from home and are still being paid our full salaries.
- TNP has extended our remote work date to April 20. Personally, I don’t think we’ll be back in until May.
- We are saving some money from not commuting and not eating out and applying that money to our credit card debt.
- The dogs continue to live their best lives with us home. I have never seen a more contented pile of dog.
- My sprouts are growing. This weekend I’m replanting some into larger pots.
Like last time, you can bounce after this photo of adorable sidewalk art in our neighborhood if you don’t want to read about some down times I’ve had. Ciao!
Despite the gratitude list above, I have been crying off and on for a week and a half straight, caught in a loop of despair and catastrophic thinking. I’d go outside, see my yard, be thankful for it, and then break down sobbing that I’m going to die. I’d go inside, WM would hug me, I’d feel better and then break down sobbing that he’s going to die. Repeat, repeat, repeat. No matter what I did (measured breathing, meditation, walks, things with my hands) I couldn’t break out of it. I’d avoid the news and be okay, but then someone would post a “PEOPLE ARE DYING IN PAIN ALONE ON VENTS” image in the middle of their Instagram story and I’d immediately crumble.
After days of denial (because if one can’t be anxious and depressed during a fucking pandemic, when is it okay to be anxious and depressed?), yesterday I finally called my doctor’s office and scheduled a telehealth appointment. After a lengthy chat, he prescribed me some medicine, and I’m starting it tonight.
I’m noting this here because there is a stigma around getting help for anxiety. If I had broken my arm, I’d certainly mention my cast and pain medicines. This is no different. I have a job to perform and a little household to keep running and no matter what lies ahead, I need to be at my best for it.
This weekend I’m going to stay off of the internet as much as I feasibly can and give my emotions some time to heal. (She says as she posts this to the a website and Twitter and Instagram.)
Be well, be healthy, be smart.