The year is 2020. Covid-19 is spreading quickly through the whole world, and impacting my little town of 15,000. School = closed. Restaurants = closed. Parks = closed. CHURCH = CLOSED.
"STAY HOME.SAVE LIVES."
We are ordered to stay home and only go out when it's absolutely necessary.
After a few months, the restrictions ease, we are asked to wear masks, but business can start opening at limited capacity... many have closed for good. Many have lost their jobs, including two of my husband's brothers.
I feel so fortunate to have a larger home than 2 years ago, so my husband is easily able to work from home. HE HAS A JOB. We homeschooled already, so schools closing didn't affect us too much (we totally missed the library and parks, though).
How did it affect me? I made a new friend-ANXIETY.
FEAR. This is a new, unknown disease.
Constant HYPER-VIGILANCE every time I leave the house. Mask? Check. Hand sanitizer, check. Is that store too busy? Maybe I'll skip. Standing in looonnng lines?? I HATE IT.
WORRYING. Worrying if I should've left the house, or should've gone to visit anyone. Should I have stayed home from that grocery store? How am I going to survive standing in this long line? Should I wear a mask or not? Is this a high or low risk activity? Does anyone unknowingly have it and is spreading it? Can my kids go see their ONE friend? Has THAT family been careful? Have I been careful enough? Will I accidentally spread it to someone who will get seriously ill? Will I or someone in my family get seriously ill? What about that guy who ended up on a ventilator?
So I backed WAY off on the news, but everyone still talks about it. Every time you go to the store, you don a mask, hoping that it will help protect others and you will be protected. Every time you visit a friend, you wonder if you should stay outside, wear a mask, or just be okay with them because they're limited in their contact. EVERYTHING. IS. HARDER.
My mom came up to visit and I had my first ever panic attack.
I woke up in the middle of the night sweating, having a hard time breathing, my heart pounding, my pulse racing, shaking uncontrollably, tingling fingers and toes, sweating... all the symptoms. Thinking "WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON?" I quickly Googled "panic attack symptoms." With practically every single one, at least I knew what was going on now.
Then worrying about how long this was going to last, if it ends, will it happen again? What the heck caused it? Why now?
After having one more a few nights later, I called my doctor and got checked out, and checked IN with a therapist. Working with her was very helpful, and being more careful about not overloading myself has been good, too. I am also working on being "OK" when it comes on, knowing that it will pass, and trying to figure out what's triggering it. I also worked out a plan to help me when they come again. And they have.
Months later, I go up and down with my anxiety. I feel more anxious with hormone changes in my body (YAY), but I still battle this demon. I HATE going out anywhere. Every mask I see under someone's nose, or person without a mask (for whatever reasons), I get anxious. Every time I'm in a building with people (like shopping), I struggle. Every dinner get together, every time there's a gathering, even though they're all masked, it is very hard to sit there. But I also need people... I need to feel like something is normal-ish.
So I go to a girls' night every few weeks with my 2 best friends.
I visit my in-laws (who would rather enjoy their grandkids than live in fear).
I go to the outdoor wedding reception of my cute nephew and his adorable new wife.
I go to church on Sunday, with so many safety protocols I should feel better.
(I even took a trip to Utah to visit friends and family, and LOVED every second of it.)
BUT, THEN I COME HOME.
The worries come back. I try to remind myself that right now, it's pretty unlikely that I'd be exposed in a way that could pass it on to me, I'm young and pretty healthy, and so is my family. But there are no guarantees. There never have been. I could be in a car wreck while driving to the store. I could have an unknown health condition that takes my life instantly. I could die at the hands of a crazy person.
Things that help me right now are:
- PRAYER. Trying to give all my fears to God and letting him strengthen me through this trial.
- Seeing this as a new experience that allows me to connect with others, not as a problem I'm having.
- Writing down my fears and thinking, logically, about the "what if." Coming up with the answers.
- Taking care of myself physically and mentally--YOGA has been awesome because it takes care of both. I also am getting outside, taking a walk, connecting with friends, and eating good, nourishing food.
- Playing games. Yep. Good ol' "bored" (haha) games and card games help ease my mind.
- When the anxiety does start to peak, reminding myself that it's ok. It will be over eventually, and I can ride the wave like a surfer, not like an abandoned board getting slammed with each wave.
- Alternate-nostril breathing. I know, sounds weird, but seriously, this grounds me EVERY. TIME.
In one way we think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb. “How are we to live in an atomic age?” I am tempted to reply: “Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.”
In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors—anesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty.
This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.
— “On Living in an Atomic Age” (1948) in
We've got this. Hang on, and ride the wave.
