Week 19, LJ Idol Topic: "I Can't Get Calm"
Time Out
G-d, Goddess, Spirit, The Force, Yahweh, Adonai, or whomever you choose to think of him/her as has put all of us in a big old time out, and we’re waiting for someone we trust to say, “OK, you can come out now.”
Scientifically it feels like nature is attempting to re-boot itself when you read about waterways and skies clearing up, there being less white noise from airplanes and traffic and how the pace of human life is slowing down more while wildlife is having a resurgence. Between all the recent fires in Australia and California, earthquakes and now COVID-19, there’s been a brutal culling of many populations. Earth’s carrying capacity could be outsmarted only so many times before something had to give.
(I’m beginning to sound like a real biology teacher here! LOL)
No one knows when we will be set free by either our governments or by medical advances, and no one knows exactly what will happen if too many people “cheat” and break the rules too quickly. Hell, we don’t even know what the next protocol for most daily activities will be going forward. Everything from shopping, going to jobs and school, to going to a gym or a restaurant will be changed. We will have to undergo a gradual and cautious re-release before we can feel safe again.
No one knows what the “new normal” will be like, but for now, any of us surviving are caught in a transition phase between life pre-2020 and post-COVID-19. It feels traumatic and dystopian because we’ve been strongly reminded that any type of plan we make can be swiftly unmade. Very little is in our control, and that notion has become not only a reality we never counted on but also emotionally jarring.
I often find myself wondering too if this is what daily life might be like for people on the ASD spectrum. My understanding is that they usually crave structure and routines and that changes, especially unplanned alterations, can make them feel unsure or awkward. They don’t like not knowing what will happen next. Now all of us want to find a sense of “here’s what to do and here’s how we’re going to do it” again. Where is the plan?
I mean, this COVID-19 thing has turned into the biggest mind f-ck of a lifetime, (except for maybe 9-11). My little grandkids will never know the difference. (I’ve heard of this next crop of kids being called “Gen-C”...C for Corona. ) The rest of us will sound like old folks talking about “back when nobody work masks...” the same way many of us grew up never wearing seatbelts and bike helmets.
Those are weird things to think about, and ever since I got the news about my friend in Spain being diagnosed and in a coma on a ventilator, I’ve not felt calm or assured, and I’ve not slept right. For a week I could feel my insides shaking as if I were sitting on one of those vibrating beds that motel room used to have. (Anyone here remember those?) It’s a funny comparison, but I don’t know any other way to describe it. I’ve never been formally diagnosed as having anxiety, but I think that’s anxiety. In my mind, I created a mental image of my friend, Montse, in a crowded, chaotic hospital ward in Barcelona, where everyone is speaking loudly in Catalán, machines and monitors are beeping non-stop and medical workers are bustling about trying to keep up. I can’t get over the notion that the last thing she probably remembered was she and her husband and daughter telling one another goodbye as paramedics carried her out of her home.
Montse died on April 3rd. It’s now been two weeks. I internally shake less, but it’s not gone away completely. I can control it when I work or have a craft or writing project. (Thanks, Gary!) In fact, I can go hard all day and crash in front of the TV by 11 PM and then, BOOM! I’m wide awake at 4 AM, thinking about what will I do when the sun rises. I also worry about who’s going to die next. Not only do I need a daily plan, but I also need a big life plan, and right now, the idea that my friends, my husband, kids or grandkids, my siblings or my most vulnerable 90-year-old mother could be taken down or out by an evil, insidious, ugly yet invisible germ haunts me. It disturbs me when I go anywhere, even for a harmless walk or a fast run to the quickie store on the corner. We have no promises; no guarantees.
I am hoping as summer approaches, that maybe I will settle down because we as a society, will have either a decently formed plan for the future in place, a schedule of when testing and vaccines might be available and less fear of hospital overcrowding. Honestly, if we had all the ventilators and life-saving medicines in the world, I still wouldn’t want to catch this thing and have to go through the experience. Until the day comes when I can comfortably venture beyond my yard I will tremble. Until my loved ones are safely vaccinated, I will feel guarded. It’s not so much about the perceived loss of my freedom to shop, socialize and go to my workplace…it’s about feeling safe and finding “normal” again. I will not be at ease until I can imagine a possible timeline (two years?) and know that the threat of this profoundly wicked enemy is diminished.
G-d, Goddess, Spirit, The Force, Yahweh, Adonai, or whomever you choose to think of him/her as has put all of us in a big old time out, and we’re waiting for someone we trust to say, “OK, you can come out now.”
Scientifically it feels like nature is attempting to re-boot itself when you read about waterways and skies clearing up, there being less white noise from airplanes and traffic and how the pace of human life is slowing down more while wildlife is having a resurgence. Between all the recent fires in Australia and California, earthquakes and now COVID-19, there’s been a brutal culling of many populations. Earth’s carrying capacity could be outsmarted only so many times before something had to give.
(I’m beginning to sound like a real biology teacher here! LOL)
No one knows when we will be set free by either our governments or by medical advances, and no one knows exactly what will happen if too many people “cheat” and break the rules too quickly. Hell, we don’t even know what the next protocol for most daily activities will be going forward. Everything from shopping, going to jobs and school, to going to a gym or a restaurant will be changed. We will have to undergo a gradual and cautious re-release before we can feel safe again.
No one knows what the “new normal” will be like, but for now, any of us surviving are caught in a transition phase between life pre-2020 and post-COVID-19. It feels traumatic and dystopian because we’ve been strongly reminded that any type of plan we make can be swiftly unmade. Very little is in our control, and that notion has become not only a reality we never counted on but also emotionally jarring.
I often find myself wondering too if this is what daily life might be like for people on the ASD spectrum. My understanding is that they usually crave structure and routines and that changes, especially unplanned alterations, can make them feel unsure or awkward. They don’t like not knowing what will happen next. Now all of us want to find a sense of “here’s what to do and here’s how we’re going to do it” again. Where is the plan?
I mean, this COVID-19 thing has turned into the biggest mind f-ck of a lifetime, (except for maybe 9-11). My little grandkids will never know the difference. (I’ve heard of this next crop of kids being called “Gen-C”...C for Corona. ) The rest of us will sound like old folks talking about “back when nobody work masks...” the same way many of us grew up never wearing seatbelts and bike helmets.
Those are weird things to think about, and ever since I got the news about my friend in Spain being diagnosed and in a coma on a ventilator, I’ve not felt calm or assured, and I’ve not slept right. For a week I could feel my insides shaking as if I were sitting on one of those vibrating beds that motel room used to have. (Anyone here remember those?) It’s a funny comparison, but I don’t know any other way to describe it. I’ve never been formally diagnosed as having anxiety, but I think that’s anxiety. In my mind, I created a mental image of my friend, Montse, in a crowded, chaotic hospital ward in Barcelona, where everyone is speaking loudly in Catalán, machines and monitors are beeping non-stop and medical workers are bustling about trying to keep up. I can’t get over the notion that the last thing she probably remembered was she and her husband and daughter telling one another goodbye as paramedics carried her out of her home.
Montse died on April 3rd. It’s now been two weeks. I internally shake less, but it’s not gone away completely. I can control it when I work or have a craft or writing project. (Thanks, Gary!) In fact, I can go hard all day and crash in front of the TV by 11 PM and then, BOOM! I’m wide awake at 4 AM, thinking about what will I do when the sun rises. I also worry about who’s going to die next. Not only do I need a daily plan, but I also need a big life plan, and right now, the idea that my friends, my husband, kids or grandkids, my siblings or my most vulnerable 90-year-old mother could be taken down or out by an evil, insidious, ugly yet invisible germ haunts me. It disturbs me when I go anywhere, even for a harmless walk or a fast run to the quickie store on the corner. We have no promises; no guarantees.
I am hoping as summer approaches, that maybe I will settle down because we as a society, will have either a decently formed plan for the future in place, a schedule of when testing and vaccines might be available and less fear of hospital overcrowding. Honestly, if we had all the ventilators and life-saving medicines in the world, I still wouldn’t want to catch this thing and have to go through the experience. Until the day comes when I can comfortably venture beyond my yard I will tremble. Until my loved ones are safely vaccinated, I will feel guarded. It’s not so much about the perceived loss of my freedom to shop, socialize and go to my workplace…it’s about feeling safe and finding “normal” again. I will not be at ease until I can imagine a possible timeline (two years?) and know that the threat of this profoundly wicked enemy is diminished.