Time Stands Still

 It's kind of a weird feeling when I think about the fact that we've been quarantined for nearly a year in some form or another.  A year.  There have been other years that have left me keenly aware of the passage of time.  The year my children were born.  The difference between a newborn and a one year old are startling - and fun.  The first year of my separation when I thought my life was over when it was really just beginning - I was aware of time during that.  But most years float by without a lot of notice.  I can't help but notice the individual days of this year.

Nearly every week, I have the same feeling:  time seems to be going by very slowly but I see the date and the days of the week fly by.  There's not a ton of difference between Monday, Thursday, or Saturday.  The only difference is why time I'm online, if at all.  And how many times I hit snooze on my alarm.  Or what I choose to cook - or the hissy fit I have (internally and sometimes outwardly) when no one else has thought about making dinner.

When I think back on the year, it's depressing.  But I know there were good parts.  Andrew and I made an effort during the warm months to see things outdoors as much as possible.  The addition of Sophie to our family makes me smile every day.  I have a good job now, though in all honesty, I miss my old job and the freedom it gave me.  I am grateful my relationship is still in tact (I wasn't sure how that was going to fare with seeing each other, sharing a very small space and living together 24/7).  My children are alive and doing okay.  Neither of those two things were sure things.

Isolation wasn't good for me.  In the beginning, it was okay. Generally, I don't like people touching me, yet they do it all the time.  Hugs I don't want.  Touching that makes me cringe on the inside.  But then the people I like and expect to hug but suddenly can't any more cause a level of sadness I didn't expect.  I'm pretty used to it now but I still feel the twinge of sadness when I want to give a friend a hug and am unable.  Now, it's become notable in my head when I see people hug or touch.  I want to be like them but I can't.  I was a germaphobe before covid.  I never touched elevator buttons with my fingers.  Facebook reminds me weekly of my previously published wishes to spray people with lysol.  But now I look at folks and wonder if they're going to make me sick.  It's different now.

The fun of zoom happy hours wore off nearly as fast at they appeared.  Zoom is a fantastic invention, especially in my line of work.  But the fatigue of seeing people that way is real.  I don't leave my house without a mask but it has become humbling to have to tell people I can't hear them without lipreading them.  I knew I depended on lipreading for certain things - interpreting a technical meeting in a room full of accents.  I didn't realize how much I depend on it at the grocery store (which I enter so much less frequently than before) or the post office or anywhere else.  It makes me feel old.

I will never again have a low supply of toilet paper or my favorite coffee creamer.  The anxiety around that (one more than the other) was real and caused panic.  I am very aware of the empty shelves still happening at the grocery store - especially in the pet food aisle.  Sophie is a picky eater and it stresses me that I have to get food she won't like because the brand she wants isn't there.

The physical toll of working hunched over my dining room table for the first several months won't quickly be fixed.  Just sitting and working for 8-10 hours a day has done bad things to me.  My RA is worse, by far, than it was a year ago.  Granted, I went off all medications just before the shut down.  I didn't make that choice because of the circumstances happening around me but rather because the meds made me sick all the time.  Cold weather is always harder.  I'm looking forward to spring.

Probably my biggest realization is the definition of friendship has changed.  In the beginning, my work friends were in touch with me often.  They depended on me for things so that made sense.  But when my job changed and folks didn't need me in the same way, the communication lessened or stopped.  I realized that I wasn't considered a friend in the way I thought. I can, and have, gone for over a month without anyone outside of my house asking me a non-work related question.  It makes me realize I've done things wrong.  If the world ever opens up again the same way it was, I will make a greater effort to see people who aren't part of my work world.

One of the better things to come from it all was art.  Nope, I'm still not good at it and can't find any consistency in what I do.  One day I can make pretty flowers but then I can't do it again.  Or I can paint one pretty landscape but when I try to make it bigger, it all falls flat.  I'm not sure why but I've enjoyed figuring it out.  In the beginning of the lockdown, a friend of my held online art workshops.  That was great.  She doesn't do it any more so I look elsewhere for ideas.  That's been good for my brain.

By the end of the month, three out of four of my family members will be vaccinated.  The last can't be far off (fingers crossed).  I haven't seen my brother in nearly two years.  I haven't seen a beach during warm weather in over a year.  There is so much to see and do.  Patience....that's what I tell myself.

Patience has never been one of my strengths.