100 days in

Today is the 100th day of the pandemic. Hmmm. Maybe that's why I felt like something shifted today.

Here's the recap of the early days. I wrote about it in an earlier post to this blog and lots of people responded to it. I was struggling pretty badly emotionally about a month into the pandemic as plans and initiatives for the future got suspended, then postponed, then cancelled not to be rescheduled. And social isolation really, really got to me. I kept walking around, or sitting around, feeling like I was in the midst of some surreal bad dream or dystopian novel. Finally after a long weekend of sobbing uncontrollably, having nightmares, and watching my blood pressure spike up to scary high numbers (provoked by the cancellation of the last thing I was looking forward to, my summer program in Québec), I called my doctor expecting to be put on blood pressure meds. Instead she put me on anti-anxiety meds. And what helped as much as the medication did was having her and her nurse say these words to me from the other end of the phone call: "You are not alone."

As noted, I shared that story in a blog post, just in case it helped someone else. And oh, did it ever. SO many people sent me texts or private messages saying that it had happened to them too, that they were dealing with anxiety or depression or both. One person told me that reading my story helped them come to terms with "not being o.k." and convinced them to call their doctor like I had. So I'm glad I shared my story. We all need each other right now.

So fast forward to today, day 100.

I don't have sobbing meltdowns and nightmares any more. I can't even remember when I had the last one, in either case.

Here's what I learned to do to cope. As before, I share this in case anyone else would benefit from hearing this.

1. Before, I was trying to heed the recommendation only to go to the supermarket every two weeks. That didn't last long for me. I needed to see other humans and hear other voices, even masked strangers. So I went back to going every couple of days which is normal for me.

2. I learned that I needed to reach out to people more. Just about all of my friends were working plus dealing with kids at home doing schoolwork, so I felt like I couldn't bother them. Now I know just to shoot a message when I'm feeling the urge and I know that they will get back to me when they can.

3. I learned to Zoom. I have enjoyed connecting with my brothers; they bring their spouses and kids in when possible and the record was eleven participants. I've also had regular chats with two friends who were actually undergrad professors of mine.

4. I've gotten together with people for walks or dooryard chats. Ground rules for home visits that everyone has been comfortable with: everyone brings their own chair and water bottle, everyone sits six feet apart, and no one goes in the house except the people who live there.

(This is still so, so, so surreal and weird to feel like we all need to be scared of each other.)

5. I've found ways to keep music in my life. I'm taking Zoom voice lessons with a local teacher and Zoom guitar lessons with the teacher I had up in Québec last fall. I've done some Zoom open mic nights and am providing vocal + guitar solos every Sunday morning for a college friend who is a minister doing Zoom services on Sunday mornings. I'm back with a choral group I used to sing with; they are Zooming on Thursday nights and individually recording short unison pieces which a sound engineer merges into a song. I'm back with my "senior citizen beginner band" that I gave up because of a schedule conflict (nothing on the schedule any more so no conflicts!); the director has been offering music theory lessons once a week, and they are planning a one-time very socially distanced practice session in someone's dooryard next week for anyone who is comfortable with it. Sadly, live ensemble playing and singing for rehearsal or performance is not considered safe now because COVID-19 can be spread easily that way. It won't be back anytime soon. So I've reinvented myself as a soloist.

6. Saving the most surprising for last: I've learned to live at a slower pace. Being home so much is weird, but with the nicer weather I've been going for a couple of walks a day. -- especially this past week when my car was in the garage for exactly a week, Thursday to Thursday. I made a game of it to see how much I could do just by walking places. I can get to three delis, one supermarket, three restaurants, one bakery, and an ice cream stand. I can mail a letter. And I can get to the fitness studio (a small operation, not a gym) where I work out. There are also city buses too; I was checking out the schedules online when I got the call that my car was ready. Back to the point of the slower pace, I've adjusted to having entire days with nothing on the agenda. I have never been bored. I've learned to get the heck off the computer when I get sick of it and go for a walk or play one of my instruments, or even, when absolutely necessary, do household chores. 😄 A slow-paced life was a tough adjustment because I was used to being on the go all the time. That probably contributed a lot to my melting down in April because I honestly felt like I had lost everything.

One thing that I will probably let go of is my online degree program in translation from the Université du Québec. I'm following pandemic news from Québec just as closely as I'm following it from here. But I'm not enjoying online classes as much as in-person classes. I do the minimum needed to get the assignments done. Great example for my former students, huh. 😄 I'll just work on my French the way I have been doing; reading, listening to the news online, taking Zoom guitar lessons in French with my teacher in Québec, and going back there ... someday ... when the border reopens, which Canada doesn't want to have happen anytime soon because so many states are seeing COVID-19 cases continue to rise in number.

Which brings me to the one thing that's unresolved ...

I don't know what I'm going to do professionally going forward. People have said to me, "you're retired. Why work at all?" My retirement pension does what pensions are supposed to do; it covers my basic living expenses. For anything extra, I have to earn the money. I don't use identifying details in this blog, but when I say "my school," you all know where I mean. When schools everywhere closed the second weekend in March, we all thought we were in for two weeks of snow days, then we'd be back. Then it became six weeks. Then schools closed for the rest of the year. So my substitute teaching ended in mid-March, and I haven't found a way to replace that income. My school had two openings for next year in my department. I applied and did not get hired or even considered. They only want me back as a sub. They said as much. Long way from August 1, 2018 when they called and invited me back because no one applied to fill my position. In any case, no one knows what school will look like next year, only that the virus isn't going away. So there is a strong possibility of no subbing opportunities. So I'm coming to terms with the fact that my 19-year career there will probably end at 19. There probably won't be a 20th year. I need and want to go back to work. So now I will have to see what I can find. It's a real loss; the school has been the center of my life for 19 years. I picked up my yearbook today, and for the first time since the 2002 yearbook, my name and photo weren't in it. Subs are never in the yearbook, so it was nothing personal. 😉  In any case, I believe in signs, so I take my disappearance from the yearbook as a sign and will decide which direction to head in now.

So even though I know some people hate the expression I'm about to use, with the exception of the job-professional bit I've found my "new normal." I'm living at a slower pace, everything about my life looks different and plays out differently now than it did before, and I'm grateful that wearing a mask is working and I'm staying healthy. When I leave my apartment to go somewhere now, instead of just grabbing my wallet I grab my wallet and hand sanitizer, and I slip a mask onto my wrist and wear it like a prom corsage until I get to where I'm going. The new normal.

Well, except for avoiding close physical contact with people I'm emotionally close to. That will never be normal to me.