quarantine diary -- episode 1: breaking
11:05 p.m.
the third glass of tequila is going down easy. that’s how you know it’s kicked in.
it took a little more than a month but i think this is finally starting to break me. today was hard. maybe it was the notice that los angeles county is on lockdown for at least another five weeks. maybe it was just the culmination of the previous five weeks taking its toll. it’s likely some combination of the two.
being engaged to a germaphobic hypochondriac in the midst of a global pandemic has its ups and downs. we have a freezer full of meat and enough paper products to last until memorial day. but it also means managing fear. being supportive when caution bleeds into paranoia. being understanding when even the redundancies seem redundant.
i failed today,
how do i put on a brave face and project strength in the midst of uncertainty? how do you assure the people close to you that everything is going to be alright when you' have no proof? the hardest part isn’t believing that you’ll get through this. the hardest part is not being able to point to an end date. it’s not being able to see the top of the mountain and letting your loved ones know when you’ll be there.
the boy child woke up tonight just an hour after i put him to bed. i try to tell myself that he’s too young to truly be affected by this. his first birthday party was thrown on zoom. mine will likely be the same in a few weeks. we’re part of a growing club that will celebrate our milestones virtually this year. we tell ourselves that he won’t remember this. but he knows something is different. his routine has changed. some of the faces he’s become familiar with are gone. i think he’s having nightmares. i can’t fix it. i also can’t blame him. i do too.
we’re both lucky to still have our jobs and still get our paychecks. to say what i do is non-essential is a gross understatement. even in the best of times, my work is merely a distraction for plenty of people. i should probably consider what i do to be something of a public service. a bit of sanity in a temporarily insane world. i’m the latter half of the “bread and circuses” fed to the masses. but when people start to worry where they’ll get their bread, how important are the circuses
i do a lot during the day but feel like i accomplish little. i walk the fine line between trying to stay informed and overloading on negative information. i’m not sure how successful i’ve been lately.
i’ve stopped smoking weed. i’ve run out of edibles. i don’t smoke cigarettes but one of those sounds pretty good right now.
i know there’s a light at the end of this tunnel. but right now it’s dark. i repeat it like a mantra. it feels less like conviction and more like convincing.
the light is coming.
the light is coming.
the light is coming.
…
…
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i’ll see you on the other side.