We woke up to tornado warnings the other week. There was a touchdown just west of the neighboring historic Town of Hillsborough but no loss of life. The coronavirus death toll in the US however is over 68,957 souls, highest among the world's nations. We have over 1,192,906 confirmed cases. In our nuclear family alone two adults and a teen have survived it. They aren't among the counted.
I spent one morning drafting a letter to a person I care about who suffers from mental illness (I seldom hit SEND). Donald Trump wondered aloud in a press briefing whether an IV (intravenous) drip of cleaning fluid might be the way to go.
We're starting to open so that people who aren't being paid have a chance at solvency. But science says it's too soon and lives will continue to be lost. In the increased-risk-zone due to age, I can't imagine when we and our friends will sit together to order a meal; or hug each other. If school resumes in the fall we won't be able to attend the band concerts or football games (if there are any). It's the same for all of us. Balancing risks. When will we really feel safe?
So here's what is puzzling. Why aren't we all depressed? Why aren't we all curled up in fetal position with unwashed hair and empty bags of chips? I know there's despair, but what's amazing is that it isn't more wide-spread. Lines of people passing out food or receiving it; parents helping with school work; a grandma babysitting via Zoom while mom works from home (now that's tricky!). Almost every entertainment you can think of now available online for free: music, art, yoga, book clubs, guided meditations, even a hair-cutting tutorial. Fees waived, grading relaxed, deadlines extended. . . . My doctor gave me my annual over the phone. "Can you check your vitals for me?" she asked. She queried my mood in ways that weren't routine. A new Covid protocol I suppose. I appreciate it.
I think that's the answer as to why we aren't all depressed basically all the time: because there's so much to appreciate. Right now we're sheltering in eastern North Carolina where not as many people wear protective masks. But not out of invincibility or unconcern. People were disappointed for many reasons to see Vice President Pence refuse to wear a mask when he visited the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, a high risk zone to be sure. But Carteret County is rural. Nothing is open except for necessaries. Beach access is closed to visitors. There's plenty of space. There have been only 27 confirmed Covid-19 cases and 3 deaths.
So although I wake up worried, I also wake up grateful. I bet you do too. The skies are clear, the birds are singing, I've picked up my groceries from the drive-through (and tipped well; the least I can do) and don't have to go in to work. We Zoomed with other family yesterday and they're all OK. Things we might not have noticed before the pandemic, we now do. Like being alive for one. Not being sick, the children well, having a safe place to isolate, having friends to call (yes, the media has noticed that people are actually talking on the phone, not just texting). I never feel bored. I wonder if you feel the same. I'd love to know. For some reason, these limitations have re-calibrated our expectations and we've become more appreciative of what we have and who we are. The employed in our family appreciate working--mostly from home but not all. The stay-at-homes appreciate not working. The young people seem to cope the best. What we couldn't all learn from them!
So whatever we're doing let's keep it up. If we're doing less, let's stick with that. If we're paying more attention to each other, let's keep that up. Whatever it is that is helping us persevere and even have good days, let's do more of that. And if you want to share, please do. Nina Naomi
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