Doom! Doom! Doom! AKA: No Toilet Paper Anywhere

By the time I hit my 20’s, I’d just spent the majority of my teen years in a doomsday religion, where I was programmed to believe that the world could end at any moment. Though my faith was slowly melting off of me, something that was happening so slowly I didn’t even recognize it at the time, I was still having moments where I could almost believe the end was imminent. One day, I was sitting outside on our little front stoop, enjoying some alone time. I’d moved out of my family home, I was newly married, and was having a moment where I was home, all by myself. The sky was a burnt orange, though really it’d be more accurate to say that the air was a burnt orange. It felt unusually quiet outside. This was the first time I can remember experiencing an Armageddon Day. I felt it with my whole body– DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! I had to go inside and distract myself. 

Since then, even long after leaving that religion, I’ll have an Armageddon day. As the years have gone by, I’ve gotten adept at shaking it off. Because really, it was all in my head. There wasn’t any danger lurking, it was just leftover programming. 

That was then, this is now.

Today I sit in my small apartment having to explain to my two young children that we are socially distancing ourselves from others. Their school district has closed for 6 weeks because of the Coronavirus. They want to go somewhere, anywhere, outside of our apartment. I Have to explain that they have colds and can’t get anybody else sick right now. They’re kids, they get colds regularly, so they’re having a hard time understanding why this is any different than any previous cold. 

Life had taken an unexpected turn. Everything was borning, uneventful, and I was in the midst of an existential life crisis: I am single. I am 49. I have two young kids. I was in the middle of questioning everything. Currently, I appreciate the fact that I had the luxury to indulge myself in my mini-self-imposed-melt-down. In 24 hours I went from questioning my relationship with God, to whether or not I would be able to get enough toilet paper to last me the next week. 

I didn’t cave to peer pressure and buy extra toilet paper when everyone else was doing it. Damn me for not caving to peer pressure!!! I went to my local Safeway yesterday and the toilet paper aisle was decimated. The canned food section was dismal, yet still had a selection. People were wearing masks and wearing gloves. Nobody was smiling. It was in Safeway that everything hit me. Things are not normal. This is not like the last snowstorm; this will not go away in a week. This is not something I’ve ever prepared for. This is something that most people have not prepared for. And at that moment I could feel my heartbeat elevate and I just wanted to get home. 

Since arriving home, my ear thermometer and I have become best buds. I can’t stop taking my temperature. I just can’t stop. Do I think I’m going to get the Coronavirus virus and die? No. I mean, I hope not. Though I don’t think I have a compromised immune system, now’s not the time that I want to find out. However, even though I might not be at risk, I could become a deadly weapon to somebody else. AND THAT is not something I want on my conscience. These are the thoughts that whirl around my brain and have me reaching once again for my ear thermometer. 

I am fortunate in that I was already working from home four days a week before this virus outbreak. I am fortunate to have an ex who also works from home, meaning that we can share responsibility for watching the kids. However, the business I work for runs off of the business of mostly restaurants. With restaurants closing their doors and going on spending freezes…. Well, it’s leaving me feeling very vulnerable as to whether or not I will have a job in the near future. These sorts of thoughts do not help my heart rate. My heart is racing and no amount of sitting in front of my altar meditating and doing deep breathing is going to help. I mean, I’m social distancing with kids, I can’t even go to the toilet without them having some sort of crisis they can’t handle on their own. This isn’t even due to the virus; this is just everyday life with a 6 and 8-year-old. 

I know that I’m not alone in this worry. So I just want to say that I see you, I hear you… we’re in this together. Let’s build each other up. Let’s hold space and honor each other’s fears. Let’s laugh when we can. And let’s do our part to help with ‘flattening the curve‘.