Like everyone I know, I have heeded the call to self-seclude, except to go grocery shopping, to the pharmacy or to my office where I ‘see’ clients via telehealth technology. I even have a letter that I keep in the car that declares my services are essential if I get stopped en route. Two weeks in, it still feels surrealistic. Even with my vivid imagination, I could not have conceived of the day to day experiences such as they are.
Surprisingly, I enjoy my solitude. I have a lovely home that is eclectically decorated with art created by family and friends, Tibetan prayer flags, spiritual imagery, faerie wings, crystals, candles, drums, prayer icons from various traditions and books…lots and lots of books. I likely have more of them than any other item, some from childhood. Music fills the air; at the moment, I am listening to the weekly NPR show called Live From Here. Chris Thile is the host whose mandolin playing makes me smile and want to dance along. He was part of the acoustic music group Nickel Creek.
I spend my days, when not engaging in sessions with my therapy clients, writing, pitching for writing jobs, cleaning, working out, doing laundry, meditating, listening to inspiring talks and healing music. I also, to stay informed, read articles that are from reliable sources. I do my best to avoid press conferences since they are not good for my sanity or immune system. I cry, I pray, I yell in the car. I feel a slew of emotions that morph with lightning rapidity. I am grateful for all that I have; family and friends, the technology that allows me to stay in touch with them, work that I love, income, health, yes that. As someone with a history of medical issues, cardiac and pulmonary, I am shielding myself as best I can. I am super cautious when I do go out and come in. I am becoming more intentional with everything I do.
The past few days have found me emoting more. Thankfully, I have been able to turn to those in my life who help me ground myself. Friends from the past, some I have known 30 years or more have popped back up to connect. I have thought of certain people, intending to contact them and then voila; they reach out to me. Via Facebook messenger, I just spoke and virtually hugged with a friend who lives in Costa Rica. Earlier I Facetimed with my son, daughter-in-law and two-month-old grandson who I haven’t visited in two weeks. Before he was born, my son told me that the little guy would be the center of my universe. I laughed it off, saying, “He will be the center of YOURS.” Although my son would deny having psychic powers, he was on target. I have had to practice cognitive dissonance and imagine that they live too far away to visit.
I long for the day, like all of us do when this is over and we can go back into the world with a sense of safety. A day when we can hug and kiss and dance and sing and celebrate the freedom that we have been denied.
What will I do on that day? The first thing is to hop in the car and hightail it to my family where I will hug (and certainly cry) for dear life. I will express deep gratitude that we got through this safely. I will commit to sustaining deep relationships with all I encounter. I will go back to hugging strangers. I will never take a single day or person for granted.
What will you do?
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