This marks week three of work-from-home, or rather our current do-everything-from-home existence. I don’t know about you, but I am feeling diseased. No, I am not sick or ill, I have no symptoms of COVID or any other illness. But I have great dis-ease with the reality of our lives right now. I feel like the sea looked on Monday morning (featured image above)–rough, choppy, gray, and menacing.
The first hour of my day has become my favorite. Until I am stopped (by law enforcement?) and told to go home, I walk seaside for one hour each and every morning. I go very early, before sunrise. While I do set my alarm to be sure I don’t miss a day, strangely I have been woken by the call to prayer for the last five mornings. I enjoy three miles of movement, wind, sound, clouds, waves, and birds, as well as the thoughts and reflections that take my mind into beautiful and strange places.
This morning I saw only five other people as Turks are not generally morning people. For this reason social distancing happens naturally. I have the sea and the wind to myself. I start the walk in an elevated mood. I know I am going to feel free–in body and mind and spirit. But when the turn-around point arrives, my mood shifts. A melancholy sets in, and I begin to feel the squeezing of my soul. I want the walk to go on and on and on–to hold on to that feeling of expansiveness, of liberation (my favorite word in the English language).
I understand what we have to do and why we have to do it in these strange days. But I don’t have to like it or feel good about it.
While I rejoiced in rediscovering the introvert half of myself in early January, the extrovert half of me is not faring so well in these shelter-in-place days. I am envious of people like my father that live in a rural area and have land of their own, land they can go out upon and feel, hear, and smell the rhythms of nature. Land upon which there are no others to cross paths with. While I love my apartment and know it’s a gift of comfortable space, it does feel as though it gets smaller as the days march forward.
I miss being with people.
I miss eating and drinking and being merry.
Is it too late to trade in my word for 2020 to repeat my word for 2019? I much preferred enjoying the moments that life presented. This is far too much provocation for my liking. I guess it’s true what they say, be careful what you wish/ask for!
I am doing the best I can to connect with people virtually. However, it is a sad substitute for the real thing!
Thank goodness for the technology of this day and age, or it would be a very isolating and lonely time indeed. I am most grateful for WhatsApp that keeps me connected to the “Caveney Clan” (my immediate family), as well as all of my friends across this glorious globe. Its audio feature is my favorite–to hear a person’s voice is a beautiful thing and makes them seem not SO far away. Within our family chat channel we’ve begun to share short videos–of ourselves or our surroundings. It helps bridge the distance and I think helps my parents to worry a little less, especially about my brother and I as we are on another continent. We have SO many options to connect: WhatsApp, Facebook Messenger, Instagram (all have video chat options these days!), Zoom, Facetime, Skype. Oh, and WeChat for my friends in China. 😃 And of course there is email and a good old fashioned phone call for good measure.
Turkey recently increased restrictions to try and reduce the spread of COVID. There is a general curfew for those under the age of 20 and over the age of 64, as well as anyone with underlying health conditions. These people are to never be outside. Even though I am in the middle age group, I am only outside for my one hour each morning, and then once a week I do my grocery shopping (I also do that early, before the masses are up and about). I wash my hands and wipe down everything that has been touched. I follow the guidelines. Additionally, we are now required to wear a face mask when out in a public place, like a supermarket, and therefore I bought some masks on Saturday. I’m prepared for my limited time out-of-doors.
In my last post I wrote about all the things I planned to do with this time, shared how I’d rearranged my home to try and make it as accommodating as possible for being indoors for days on end. While I am happy for the diversity, I admit that I struggle with being inside these walls physically, and for being stuck in the rooms of my own mind for so many hours and days. I consider myself to be a reflective and thoughtful person, but there is a healthy limit for all things. I wish and long for live, face-to-face interaction with others.
I miss it.
Miss them.
Terribly.
And the worries that plague me and keep me awake at night are not short term worries. I have food and TP and connection. I am able to work. I have a comfortable home and creature comforts. My worries and fears are about the long term impacts of this pandemic. I worry about a world in which we have to wear face masks. I understand the why and why now. But living a life behind a piece of cloth that shields our smiles is not something I want to face. A future in which we are afraid of one another and avoid human contact? Yes, what kind of life is that? As my brother recently shared in a WhatsApp message, what will be the remainder on our psyches when this storm has passed?
I know many people in the world have a situation more confining than mine. I should not complain. (Oh…there’s that damn “should!”) But this is part of keeping our mental well being in good standing, the need to express oneself freely and honestly. I hate being trapped inside. Yet, I am blessed to have a balcony that gets afternoon sun and from where I can watch the sun set. Ziggy and I can sit and watch birds in the trees. I can drink my coffee and journal in the morning. I can enjoy a beer with my book in the afternoon or evening. I can ponder the past, the now, and the future.
I don’t know when we will return to some semblance of normal. But I will be happy to eat and drink with my friends. I will be happy to visit my family. I will be thankful for all the beautiful connections and reconnections that will have come out of this dark time. I know it will be a “new normal,” and there will be aspects of it I will not like. But I also know we will have learned much–this is an exercise in fortitude and resilience–as individuals, and as a human race. Hopefully we will find and embrace our better selves.
For now I will leave you with this song from Matchbox Twenty’s 2012 Album, North. I hope we are finished “sleeping at the wheel” and for more than a moment or an instant. Let’s drop the walls and stop telling one another how we should feel. Let’s just be.