We made it to Sunday. The 5 years that have happened in the month of April are coming to a close.
I honestly don’t see me personally returning to work (at the retail job, writing is happening still) until June. The last announcement from Gov. Inslee talked about the state’s recovery being like a dial over a switch. Slowly, in manageable increments, we’ll return to a normal life.
I know I’m coming from a place of privilege. My hubby’s still working. We have money saved up. We can afford to still pay our bills each month. We’ve made some cutbacks, yes, but not on essentials. Many of my friends cannot say this.
I recognize that some may think I’ve got it easy because of that. What is stressing me out isn’t financial, no. But that doesn’t mean this hasn’t affected my mental and emotional health.
This virus crosses all social and economic barriers. It doesn’t care what age you are. It doesn’t care if you have a new Tesla or drive a beat up car that’s older than you are. How much you have in your bank account, what your street address is, or how extensive your wine cellar is. If it comes in contact with you, it’s going to make you sick. Some will fight it out at home, others end up in a hospital.
And some end up in a morgue.
That’s why I’m staying home. I don’t want to plan a funeral for someone in my house. Attend a virtual one for a friend. Or be the one it’s planned for.
Yeah, it’s tough on me. Yeah, I’ve had days when I wanted to scream, break the regulations, and do stuff with friends. I vented a little yesterday during D&D, pointing out that I’d LOVE to go to a bar with every single person in the group and have drinks, but they (the government/CDC guidelines) won’t let me. I have to remind myself, daily, that this won’t last forever.
And that, when it’s over and we’ve survived, we’ll get to have that drink. Without anyone missing.