(Written for Day 5 of the Writing Rules Mini Project.)
Dear You,
They say it’s something that will go in the history books, but this is not the kind of history you wanted to make.
You always looked forward to those cherished days off, but now you’re looking forward to days back on.
Sure, there are heroes out there, the ones saving lives and stocking shelves and doing what they can from home to make ends meet. But you’re just stuck at home.
Lonely and helpless and tired.
Change is difficult. It’s difficult to get used to a new normal. Especially because when you said those last goodbyes, when you left for the last time, you weren’t sure when you’d be back together again. And maybe you didn’t even know that it was the last goodbye for a while. And it sometimes feels impossible to accept that even when you meet again, things won’t be quite the same.
For now, with no end in sight, every day feels like a Saturday. It should be the best time of your life. Except there are no parties that don’t involve a screen. No deep late-night conversations that don’t happen through headphones. Even when you go to the grocery store, there’s something in the air. And I don’t just mean the virus. I mean that feeling of panic, of distrust, of fear. Like zombies might walk through the door after you.
You went through all the stages of grief when you realized how bad this was going to be. Maybe you’re still trying to accept this slow and lonely version of life.
The worst part of this pandemic is that staying home is the exact opposite of what we’re programmed to do as human beings. When there’s a crisis, we come together. We draw our strength from the numbers. We feel the energy of the people around us, and we work through our grief and anger and hope as one body.
What happens when we can’t do that?
We hang paper hearts in our windows. We share encouragement and workouts and stories. We connect in the best way we can, waving to those tiny pixelated faces on our computer screens. Other days, we find ourselves stuck, scrolling through social media and watching movies and eating cereal in our pajamas, hour after hour. It’s easy to fall into a loop when every day feels like the one before.
You will get through this.
And you know that. You know things will get better, even if they have to get worse first. You know you’ll eventually get used to this change. You know this will probably be the easiest historical event to live through, because all you have to do is stay home. But it’s frustrating. You feel like you should be doing something. Helping somehow. And you are. Even though it feels like you’re doing nothing, they say that’s exactly what we should be doing.
It will not be easy. This particular weekend, a time of celebration for many people around the world, will leave churches and kitchens and hearts empty. We will connect in whatever way technology allows, but it won’t feel like enough.
It’s okay to feel frustrated and sad and lonely. Write it all down. Journals are the backbone of those history textbooks. And once your feelings are on the paper, maybe the burden will feel a bit lighter on your shoulders. Keep your eyes on the road ahead, and keep a little hope in your heart. Rest easy knowing that we’re all going through this together, even though we’re doing it apart.
Sincerely,
Me