The Best I Can Right Now

Note on caption — I have not had COVID yet, so much of this diagram is not in play. But the lockdown and psychosocial stress is real. Also, WHAT DOES THIS DIAGRAM EVEN MEAN?!

I’m really sorry I haven’t been talking to you for a while. I’m in a rough place right now, and I don’t want it to get rougher, so I’m focusing on what’s necessary until my brain can catch up with what’s extra.

This is a part of my life. My moods can go smoothly until I hit a patch of extreme stress (COVID rates rising plus the presidential election and its batshit crazy aftermath) and then my sleep goes off, my mind is a fog, and my emotions are all over the place.

It takes me a bit to recover. Usually I manage it without a tweak to my medication, and usually I don’t go into the hospital to manage it. I know what to do to keep myself functional — go to work even if my mind doesn’t think it can, get the important things done, go home to rest. Make sure I’m not avoiding emails. Take bubble baths, do cognitive exercises, not fault myself for not promoting the book.

I will get through this. I always have. But if you’re not seeing as much from me as you have, understand that I am doing the best I can.

An Uptick in the Numbers

My corner of Missouri seen a big uptick in cases of COVID over the last few days — yesterday’s news from the Health Department showed 49 new cases overnight, and 180 current cases. If that doesn’t seem like a big number, the population of the whole of Nodaway County is 22,092 people. We’ve had 1101 cases so far since the pandemic started, which comes up to 5% of the county.

There’s nothing unusual about those statistics; cases are spiking across the US, and the US is doing nothing to contain the spread. Some people tout “herd immunity”, but there is no way to reach that without a vaccine or without 2% of those getting COVID dying. 2% doesn’t sound big, but the 228,000k that have already died sounds like a more alarming statistic.

There’s part of me that understands giving up and going back to that unfettered life, life without a mask and with restaurants and vacations, given that the statistics are so bad. But then I think of my age, which is almost old enough to put me at high risk. I think of my husband, who is in a high-risk group. Most of all, I think of how many people I could infect without a mask, without ever knowing I’m contagious.

Life is not as usual, and it won’t be for a long time. Every time I think I have adjusted, I am reminded that I need so much more patience.

Same of a Sameness

The problem with acting wisely during COVID is that every day seems the same. All the classes run into each other; all the meetings are on Zoom, restaurants are unsafe; social gatherings are too risky. It’s better than the alternative, of course, which is getting COVID and risking one’s health or life.

I’m old enough and fat enough that I risk my health with exposure, so it’s not just a matter of “catch COVID and get it over with.” My husband is high risk because of a preexisting condition, and I really don’t want to give it to him. I don’t want to give it to everyone else, either.

Some things help. Good coffee, music on the stereo, candles, paying attention to the weather outside, our faux fireplace. A comfortable work station in the living room. Scented candles.

I will make the best of this.

**********

Another bald self-promotional opportunity here — The Kringle Conspiracy is live in paperback; if you want Kindle versions you can pre-order.

Toymaker Kris Kriegel has fallen for professor Marcia Wendt, but he’s afraid of getting too close because he has a secret. Marcia thinks she’s found the one, but Kris’s secret has left her mistrustful. The two must work through trust issues and honesty and through this, they will discover The Kringle Conspiracy.

Memory full of people

More than anything, my memory is full of people.

It’s to be expected — I am, after all, 57 years old. But all the best memories I have involve people. It’s as if the memories I have of work, of time spent alone, have faded away, and what is left are the stories of people I have known. The gatherings to watch Star Trek and the flirtations that ensued, the time I ate popovers with a gathering of neighbors, getting stuck in the elevator with my wedding party. All of these are years past, sometimes many years past.

Even random encounters with people stay in my mind longer than solitude. The guys in the supermarket who said “Pizza is serious business, ma’am” thirty-some years ago. The autumn day when a young man got on the bus, bedraggled by rain, dazzling in his long-haired beauty.

I have been alone more often than not lately, in part due to COVID. At work, we stay in our offices unless we teach. I have done little more than wave at people in the hallways. I only sometimes go to my neighborhood cafe, and there are no football games or campus gatherings this semester. So I have been building fewer important memories.

I talked to a friend yesterday over the phone, and some of those old memories started replaying. I believe we’ve known each other for 30 years at this point; it doesn’t feel that long ago.

I don’t feel so old that I must rely on memory to sustain me. I need to make more memories in this place that I am now. By that, I don’t mean Maryville, MO, but this particular point in time, at this particular age, when I have grown up enough not to be trapped by dizzying crushes. What moments will I make now that I will carry into the future?

Live Under COVID Six Months In

Life under COVID six months in:

I never forget my mask anymore. I have a selection of several masks, actually, including the Northwest Missouri State University mask I wear below.
My weekly restaurant date with Richard (my husband) is no longer, because restaurants are rife with COVID and are a major contagion source. We do take carryout.
I can now teach live and on Zoom at the same time. I hate it. I can’t move out of the sight of the camera and all the Zoomies see is my head.
I dream of the Grotto at The Elms, a cabin at Mozingo, a celebratory dinner at Bluestem. An orchestra, shopping in Macy’s in Chicago, Christmas at Starved Rock, an Amtrak train across the country. What I have is a predictable path from my house to the university and back, with an occasional stop at the cafe.
I curse our leadership for letting COVID get this entrenched in the country. Countries with early quarantine, frequent testing, and well-equipped hospitals have gotten back to a near-normal.
At least I haven’t gotten COVID. I attribute this to the strong controls my county and my university have — masks in public, contract tracing, disinfecting surfaces, office hours by appointment only and socially distanced.

I know I will celebrate when the virus is taken down. I will go on that writers’ retreat and eat in that fancy restaurant to celebrate my novel. I’m holding on till then.

COVID check

How is everyone doing? I’m thinking of COVID again after six months of wearing masks and socially isolating, and just wondered how everyone was doing.

I’m not doing bad. I’m back to not going to the coffeehouse again because restaurants and other food establishments are the worst places if you want to avoid COVID. So my social life has been greatly cut back again. I’m getting a lot done. I’m getting the hang of teaching live while using Zoom. It’s not easy, but I’m feeling accomplished again.

If there’s one thing I’m still missing, it’s a writing retreat. I really need a change of scenery, especially since the cafe is off line. But I am restricted from retreats for the same reason I’m restricted from the cafe — too many people. Too many particles.

I think some things are changing in my life. I’m talking to more people on social media. I’m getting used to not eating at restaurants. I’m dependent on mail order. I’m appreciating what I’ve lost.

I’d like my life to go back to normal. I would like to be mobile again. I would like to go to restaurants and hug people and have a writers retreat and not wear a mask. But for now, I’m doing okay.

With people, there’s always hope

I just got to the Board Game Cafe, and already I’ve advised an incoming freshman and their mom about some of the features of Maryville. Life is starting to feel back to normal with just that little thing.

We’re practicing social distancing here, and mask wearing (there’s an ordinance in Maryville).

There are two girls (probably high schoolers) playing a complex game at one table, and occasional people looking for coffee.

As for me, I’m writing this blog, and afterward, I’m going to transcribe some of my pen and paper notes and see if I’ve gotten any further with Gaia’s Hands.

Maybe there is hope, even though I feel like I have to scream through my mask to be heard, and I don’t know if I’ll get sick, and I don’t know if this pandemic will ever end. But there are still people, and with people there’s always hope.