If you’re struggling with groceries or rent, please let me know.
I tried to sit down and write, for the love of god, about anything besides the coronavirus. Somehow, such a banal task has become daunting and innavigable. Though I have the privilege of not being personally impacted with a peer or family member experiencing COVID-19, this gigantic cultural shift has impacted each and every hour of my days. This is all everyone, it seems, is thinking about.
I don’t want to put a single statistic in this piece. I don’t want to talk about mortality or PPE or the new cases or losses in the St. Louis area. How loss ties in with race, class, and identity. We’re all exhausted, disheartened, and frustrated. This is heartbreaking.
Of course, I can only tell my own story here. I’m a senior at Saint Louis University studying Women’s and Gender Studies and Public Health. As Missouri’s case numbers for the coronavirus incline, cumulative stress becomes apparent. I got laid off. My three roommates got laid off. My school moved all classes online and banned all gatherings on-campus. Nearly two weeks into social distancing, maybe there is a little more calm in the air. Here is a reminder to continue social distancing, you’re doing a great job.
In one of my courses, we were asked to post how we have adjusted to social distancing in an online discussion board. My peers wrote stories of chaotic moves across the country after a 24-hour warning from the University. They discussed fear for the future – what can we do entering into this workforce and culture? They discussed worries about losing jobs, not being able to pay rent, and an overwhelming uncertainty about the status of the present.
In periods of distress, I visit calming Instagram posts about mental health, clarity, and peace that I have saved. The most important post is by Instagram artist revelatori, who depicts the difference between being surrounded by intrusive thoughts and observing the same ones. In crisis, I try to circle back to this difference. I try to take a step back and see the bigger causes of any particular anxiety or sadness. I ask myself, what really is happening here?
It’s been hard to zoom out. To gauge the virus and how it is impacting our lives together and as individuals. It’s been hard to focus and to slow down. Americans are hard-wired to continue swimming until we drop, and we can’t swim right now. Maybe it’s okay that we can’t swim right now, that we’re working on new ways of existing with others from afar. We can’t be expected to be good at this. It’s okay to be doing a really bad job at school, work, or anything right now. It’s okay to be bad at maintaining a clear mental health. Distanced relationships. Reading. Writing. Communicating. Cooking. We’re all going to be bad at this.
But for goodness sake, don’t you dare diet.
If possible, be gentle. See what you can do to breathe and slow down. Listen to stories, share your own, and spread gratitude when possible.
Thanks for reading. Be well.