I used to love being alone. I still do. But almost two years into this pandemic bubble, I feel like I’ve lost touch with everything around me. Then, being alone feels so serene. At present, being alone feels like I’ve just shut off entirely from everyone. I feel as if I’m confined, alone, in a dreamlike sequence I can’t just wake up from.
Everything that happens around me doesn’t seem to feel real anymore.
Losing a loved one without seeing them for the last time fools me to believe that one day I’ll be able to meet them again. I can’t process grief fully because I wasn’t able to say goodbye or at least see them go. In my mind, we’re just in our own individual homes, waiting for the time when we can go out again and meet.
Being recognized and receiving an award for something you’ve worked for feels less grand, unreal. Though you feel gratitude, deep inside you ask yourself, “Was it really real?” or is it just a scene from something I’ve watched on screen? There’s a disconnect, a blur. The memory feels two-dimensional and superficial.
Events have gone virtual. Memories now are only screenshots that sometimes don’t fully sink in. And all the emotions that come with them seem to only last within those time-bound virtual and distant meetings.
Moving on from someone feels superficial too, because maybe it’s partly just from not being able to see and be with the person again. What if the world opens up for everyone like usual and we meet again? What if I was just forced to believe I did move on when I truly haven’t? There goes the never ending what ifs.
When bad things happen, I feel like tricking myself into believing that it’s just an extension of a bad dream I haven’t woken up to yet. When good things happen, I feel like it’s just a part of a good dream I didn’t want to end.
Every day seems to mirror each other and I find it hard to distinguish which one is which. Every day looks the same… for almost two years now. I feel as if I’m just in a coma and all the things happening around me are all in my mind.
My loss of reality is my reality and my truth at the moment, but it doesn’t have to end this way. What now? What I feel and where I am now may not be my fault, but moving forward from this is my responsibility.
So, slowly, I’m going to try to feel again and be in the moment—may it be a mundane memory or something extreme. I will try not to invalidate my feelings nor my realities. I will use my senses more to see that though every day looks the same, Monday’s skies will always be totally different than that of Tuesday’s… and so on.
If you find yourself in a similar bubble as mine, we can come out of it an inch at a time. Though it may not be easy and in an instant, we’ll get through this in time.