Things That Are Making Me Feel Like Crying Right Now
COVID-19 fears and the world imploding.
I was going to end the post there. But I guess I should add other things.
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We finally watched the end of the last season of The Good Place. This is a spoiler-free comment. My throat felt tight when Chidi explained the wave analogy and losing people you love:
Picture a wave. In the ocean. You can see it, measure it: its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And… it’s there. You can see it. You know what it is. It’s a wave.
And then it crashes on the shore, and it’s gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be… for a little while. That’s one conception of death, for a Buddhist. The wave returns to the ocean. Where it came from. Where it’s supposed to be.
Even though I’ve heard that analogy before, hearing it from him gutted me. I ended up smushing my face into the covers and sobbing.
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We’re on a town listserv for a beach town that we visit about six times per year. I like to keep up with the news even when we’re away. Someone started a thread asking people to describe their perfect day in the town and what they’ll do when shelter-in-place is over.
At first, I happily described picking up books at the bookstore and reading on the beach and eating ice cream every night. It made me feel good to think about how the day would unfold.
But by the time I finished writing my entry, I felt so sad because that day felt so far away. It may not happen for months. Some of the businesses I named may not even be there after this. Which means my perfect day won’t be able to happen.
It feels so strange to have a place be so close but feel so far away at the moment.
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Someone asked on Facebook who you want to hug when all of this is over.
My mum and dad.
I really miss them. They live nearby but we’re only seeing each other via video calls. And even before this, a few weeks ago, we moved to elbow-bump goodbyes instead of hugs.
What is making you sad right now?
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I miss my people. I miss my friends, group runs, hugging people without thinking about it, coffee hour at church where I could hug someone just because.
I miss the vibrant and electric feeling of helping people and the world moving. I went into the office to gather up some things last week and I cried because it was so quiet.
I miss running errands and stopping into a store just to look.
I miss the ordinaryness of regular life. Waving Owen onto the bus, commuting to work, lunch with my best friend, grocery shopping.
I am afraid that my organization won’t survive. I am terrified that just one year later that I may have to speak at another child’s funeral or even just attend one. And I think no I can not, will not do more hard things… when is it enough? And when is life just unbearably cruel. I don’t want to make decisions for my parents health alone with my sister on the other side of world. And now I have to stop because I will can’t engage in the list of things I am afraid of, otherwise I can’t function.
My daughter was SO excited to celebrate her birthday with her classmates this year. It’s always been on a weekend or spring break before. And she has an amazing teacher who makes the day super special. But we will still be home when she turns 9.
I’m going to make it special here. She will have a great day. But her realizing it and seeing her face, that was the saddest. She cried. I cried too.
I can almost see your perfect day in your beach town. I’m sad alongside you that it’s so close and yet so far.
I’m sad about cancelled proms and graduations. So many teens who had expectations of making memories. It’s not at the level of biological needs, but still, this makes me sad.
Well, SIL & I were supposed to be going to see Elton John tonight — and have dinner before the concert with a friend of mine, who was flying in specifically to see the show. It’s been postponed until sometime in 2021, TBA. 🙁 Small potatoes compared with what some people are going through — and I did at least get to see him last fall with my sister — but I was really looking forward to it and I’m sad nevertheless. Now I’m wondering whether all the restrictions will be lifted in time for us to use our tickets to see “Hamilton” on May 9th. My gut tells me no. 🙁
I am sad that we haven’t seen our little great-nephew in three weeks. He is four months old now, and they change so quickly at this age!
Further out, I am wondering whether I’m going to be able to go home this summer to see my family, and attend a family reunion that was planned for late July in Minnesota. Right now, the US/Canada border is closed, which makes me (as someone who was born in a border town and has deep roots in border communities on both sides) INCREDIBLY sad. 🙁 (Just don’t ask me how I feel about the Orange One’s proposal to install troops along the border too…!!)
Hmm. I’m not sure I should even start down this path, as I am finding it difficult enough to focus on the positives right now. I am sad that we had to cancel our planned spring break trip to California, and that the trip we have planned to Seattle to meet up with my sister and her family will likely have to be cancelled as well. I was sad that I didn’t get to celebrate my birthday the way I’d planned because of the “social distancing” restrictions.
I’m sad when I think about people who live in domestic violence situations and are now stuck at home 24/7 with their abusers, and of the children in detention centers who are separate from their families indefinitely, and of the refugees in camps who are likely to get sick with this virus. I’m sad for friends who have lost jobs, and sad that some of my favorite local businesses may not survive this extended shutdown. I’m sad that there are people in this country who still believe any word that comes out of the mouth of the current president, despite his well-documented track record of lying about everything and anything, and I’m sad that his administration’s mismanagement of this situation is likely to lead to more deaths.
OK, I’m going to stop now. While I am genuinely sad about those things (and more), I also know I have a lot to be grateful for. We live in a home that allows us to be safe, and we have everything we need (even toilet paper!). We have working internet access that will allow me to continue working remotely, and allow my sons to complete their schoolwork via “distance learning.” My husband and I are both still employed full-time, and both of our jobs are fairly secure, despite the circumstances. (My husband is a probation officer with over 22 years in with his employer, so he won’t be out of a job unless there is a complete collapse of government.) Everyone in our immediate and extended family is healthy (so far). I am well aware that we are steps ahead of many people in all of these respects.
{{{{HUGS}}}} It’s OK to feel sad. And scared.
I hope you get to enjoy something approximating your perfect day, if not this year, then next.
And yes, I cried like a baby at the end of The Good Place, which I adored.
I am sad (or is it angry) that people still aren’t taking this seriously.
I am sad – but resigned to it – that I won’t be travelling overseas for at least a year, and probably two.
I am sad that my FIL is alone and sad – though he’s always alone and sad, he currently doesn’t have any sport to watch to keep him amused. And if he gets ill, we’ll be able to give limited support (if any), and if he gets seriously ill (he’s 91), none of his other sons will be able to return to NZ to be with him.
I’m trying not to be too sad, because it could open the floodgates. I’m trying to find gratitude this week – hence my most recent post.
I have nothing to complain about. I mean, I am supposed to go to work tomorrow even though I was supposed to be off…and I am the only person in the building (and probably the whole lab system in the state) that didn’t get any paid time off, so I’m really angry about that. But it’s minor since I have a job and a paycheck etc.
I do worry about people who don’t have a safe place to shelter. And I suspect this is going to be a virus that everyone gets eventually. I am mildly concerned that this lingering cough is going to be a problem. But, still, safe in my home for now, so I have nothing to complain about.