Corona Diaries, Part 2
Is it silly to title blog posts about this period this way? Maybe. But for now it seems appropriate.
Before I get into this post I feel it's important to acknowledge my absolute privilege: my home is safe, I have money for food, my relationships are safe and secure.
It seems crazy that 4 weeks ago we thought nothing of being in close proximity to other people, 3 weeks ago they gave notice they were shutting schools, 2 weeks ago it started to sink in: this is serious, and now even just going for walks around others is distinctly uncomfortable when they pass too close, or the sidewalk is too narrow. How long will it take to feel normal being in a close group again?
Our daily habits have changed significantly over the last three weeks and although I and my family have paid very little for this I still struggle with the little voice that says 'how can they change my life so much?'
In the next second I remind myself: I'm struggling with freedoms being taken because I haven't had this experience before - and how lucky am I for that? I've never before been told by the government who I can and can't see, where I can and can't go. What an absolute life of privilege have I been living that I bristle at the requirement to change my behavior for the common good. I know I'm not the only one: everyone of my age and demographic is used to being able to go and do as we see fit - we are not used to limits of any kind, really, being imposed on us. It's uncomfortable to look inside yourself and find a sense of entitlement to the life you have been used to coupled with the knowledge that millions of people in the world cope with far worse all the time. I'm no better or more deserving of a stable 'normal' life than a woman my age in a refugee camp in Syria; and yet I inwardly balk when the playgrounds are closed and I have to tell Rudi they are 'broken' and 'need cleaning'. How minor a sacrifice! But it still feels crappy to prepare to have this conversation every time we go out our back door and see the playground looking at us.
We're gearing up to do another grocery shop next week. It will have been 12 days since we last ventured to the store, and I wonder what will have changed. What will the stores be out of? We have always operated on a 'we keep our food at the store' model of housekeeping - we don't have a huge pantry of supplies because there are multiple grocery stores within a 10 minute drive of our house. There are even multiple stores within walking distance! I find myself battling the impulse to stockpile more than usual. I remind myself of the news I've seen of people standing in hours-long lines for bread in war zones or poor countries. Surely I can wait to get into the grocery store which is still mostly fully stocked of plenty of food for my family and I that I can afford to buy even if prices are higher than normal.
Maybe what I'm trying to say is I'm doing battle in my head all the time: I can do what is being asked. It's hard to do it. Not as hard as it has been for previous generations here, or current generations elsewhere. I wish desperately we didn't have to do it. I wish we knew how long we had to do it. We're just doing it.
I find this hard to write about. But on the other hand, we'll be very lucky if this is the only time in our lives we have to collectively sacrifice for a common goal.
So I'm going to write about it a bit, for the record. To remember. To put it into context for the 'after', whenever that comes.
Before I get into this post I feel it's important to acknowledge my absolute privilege: my home is safe, I have money for food, my relationships are safe and secure.
It seems crazy that 4 weeks ago we thought nothing of being in close proximity to other people, 3 weeks ago they gave notice they were shutting schools, 2 weeks ago it started to sink in: this is serious, and now even just going for walks around others is distinctly uncomfortable when they pass too close, or the sidewalk is too narrow. How long will it take to feel normal being in a close group again?
Our daily habits have changed significantly over the last three weeks and although I and my family have paid very little for this I still struggle with the little voice that says 'how can they change my life so much?'
In the next second I remind myself: I'm struggling with freedoms being taken because I haven't had this experience before - and how lucky am I for that? I've never before been told by the government who I can and can't see, where I can and can't go. What an absolute life of privilege have I been living that I bristle at the requirement to change my behavior for the common good. I know I'm not the only one: everyone of my age and demographic is used to being able to go and do as we see fit - we are not used to limits of any kind, really, being imposed on us. It's uncomfortable to look inside yourself and find a sense of entitlement to the life you have been used to coupled with the knowledge that millions of people in the world cope with far worse all the time. I'm no better or more deserving of a stable 'normal' life than a woman my age in a refugee camp in Syria; and yet I inwardly balk when the playgrounds are closed and I have to tell Rudi they are 'broken' and 'need cleaning'. How minor a sacrifice! But it still feels crappy to prepare to have this conversation every time we go out our back door and see the playground looking at us.
We're gearing up to do another grocery shop next week. It will have been 12 days since we last ventured to the store, and I wonder what will have changed. What will the stores be out of? We have always operated on a 'we keep our food at the store' model of housekeeping - we don't have a huge pantry of supplies because there are multiple grocery stores within a 10 minute drive of our house. There are even multiple stores within walking distance! I find myself battling the impulse to stockpile more than usual. I remind myself of the news I've seen of people standing in hours-long lines for bread in war zones or poor countries. Surely I can wait to get into the grocery store which is still mostly fully stocked of plenty of food for my family and I that I can afford to buy even if prices are higher than normal.
Maybe what I'm trying to say is I'm doing battle in my head all the time: I can do what is being asked. It's hard to do it. Not as hard as it has been for previous generations here, or current generations elsewhere. I wish desperately we didn't have to do it. I wish we knew how long we had to do it. We're just doing it.
I find this hard to write about. But on the other hand, we'll be very lucky if this is the only time in our lives we have to collectively sacrifice for a common goal.
So I'm going to write about it a bit, for the record. To remember. To put it into context for the 'after', whenever that comes.
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