I haven’t been inspired to write in months. I write when I feel and what I feel, but I haven’t had a real feeling in what feels like forever. I have been going through the days of my life with an overwhelming sense of numbness, and yes, I know how ironic that sounds. But I swear to you, when I looked out the window and noticed my maple tree starting to go through its fall course, I felt like I was in a movie montage that just flips through seasons to show you how much time has passed when really it has only been a minute. That’s how this whole pandemic has felt to me.
I feel like I’ve been on pause for so long and I don’t know how to restart my life again. I lack purpose and a sense of meaning, and I don’t know how to carry on sometimes. I go to work and I’m thankful for love and for my friends and family, but I can’t shake this numbness. I can’t shake how much worse my anxiety has gotten. I’ve grown quiet and I don’t know how to socialize like I used to. I get uncomfortable when people get too close to me — both literally and figuratively. I’m afraid to plan out of fear that what I have planned will not come to be.
I’m afraid to vocalize these feelings because I know that they stand true for so many of us in the world. This pandemic has taken a toll on literally the entire globe. But I stand there and have these thoughts about what life will look like after covid is over and I worry about how it has divided us — even though it has also brought us together. I guess in some ways, this post is a reflection on my hopelessness and a longing for an inkling of hope.
I have learned one thing though – one good thing: I’ve never been able to appreciate so many little things in my life. Human touch; human proximity; companionship; social gatherings; travel; weddings; breakfast dates; drinks with the girls; my career in healthcare; breathing. I hold onto hope that one day the world will go back to normal, but until then, I have to make sense of this new normal.