Traversing the Minefield
Which one does trepidaciously, at best
Often, while walking, I'll use the time to connect with family and friends. There's something particularly nice about conversing with someone you love as you wander outdoors. For the past...what is it now, 5 weeks? 6 weeks? a million weeks?...whatever, these chats have a common thread--the unprecedented, unpredictable COVID-19. In particular, we express our mutual frustration that no matter what we decide to do in regards to the vixen virus, there's such a lack of clarity to guide which option is right, or best, or even doable.
This damned if you do, damned if you don't, nobody's right when everybody's wrong existence is wringing the resources out of us, one potentially COVID infused droplet at a time (are you an asymptomatic carrier? And if you are, how likely is it you will infect someone within the socially distant 6 feet? Or at the grocery store? Or on your walk? Do you wear a mask when you walk or don't you?). Our capabilities feel as if they're melting into puddles that then vanish instantaneously. I read an article today where the author compared living through these days to being continually waterboarded. Or for the rest of our lives sleep deprived, which many of us are due to the stress and anxiety the vile virus inflicts upon and infuses into us.
We share what we're using as balms to get us through a moment, minute, hour, day. I've noticed there aren't too many strategies that we haven't already tried, many times over. They work, then they don't, then maybe they work again, then maybe they won't (paraphrasing the POTUS). We don't give up. We keep trying.
It's circled around to me that the unforgiving COVID took a walk with the world, led us into a minefield, and said, "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" Living through these groundhog days is being in an escape room where the clues come fast and furiously and some might be correct, others misleading. Some accurate today only to be discovered invalid later but maybe only part of the clue is erroneous and you have to decide for yourself which fragment you'll hang your hat on, at least for the amount of time it takes you to say it out loud. You inch your big toe a tad too much to the right and BOOM! So then, your pinky a smidge to the left and BOOM! You get the picture.
And now we can't even cuddle the family pet if we're not feeling well because after all, couldn't it be COVID-19 manifesting itself? Didn't seen that buried landmine. WOOF! MEOW!
My talks with those who truly soothe my soul end with messages of hope. We'll get through this. It will get better. Thank God for Dr. Fauci. Thank God for Dr. Birx. We can do this.
And then, the best. "Love you." "Love you, too." Which enables me to traverse the minefield with bravery, hope and courage. Because, as we've repeatedly heard, we're all in this together,
Often, while walking, I'll use the time to connect with family and friends. There's something particularly nice about conversing with someone you love as you wander outdoors. For the past...what is it now, 5 weeks? 6 weeks? a million weeks?...whatever, these chats have a common thread--the unprecedented, unpredictable COVID-19. In particular, we express our mutual frustration that no matter what we decide to do in regards to the vixen virus, there's such a lack of clarity to guide which option is right, or best, or even doable.
This damned if you do, damned if you don't, nobody's right when everybody's wrong existence is wringing the resources out of us, one potentially COVID infused droplet at a time (are you an asymptomatic carrier? And if you are, how likely is it you will infect someone within the socially distant 6 feet? Or at the grocery store? Or on your walk? Do you wear a mask when you walk or don't you?). Our capabilities feel as if they're melting into puddles that then vanish instantaneously. I read an article today where the author compared living through these days to being continually waterboarded. Or for the rest of our lives sleep deprived, which many of us are due to the stress and anxiety the vile virus inflicts upon and infuses into us.
We share what we're using as balms to get us through a moment, minute, hour, day. I've noticed there aren't too many strategies that we haven't already tried, many times over. They work, then they don't, then maybe they work again, then maybe they won't (paraphrasing the POTUS). We don't give up. We keep trying.
It's circled around to me that the unforgiving COVID took a walk with the world, led us into a minefield, and said, "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" Living through these groundhog days is being in an escape room where the clues come fast and furiously and some might be correct, others misleading. Some accurate today only to be discovered invalid later but maybe only part of the clue is erroneous and you have to decide for yourself which fragment you'll hang your hat on, at least for the amount of time it takes you to say it out loud. You inch your big toe a tad too much to the right and BOOM! So then, your pinky a smidge to the left and BOOM! You get the picture.
And now we can't even cuddle the family pet if we're not feeling well because after all, couldn't it be COVID-19 manifesting itself? Didn't seen that buried landmine. WOOF! MEOW!
My talks with those who truly soothe my soul end with messages of hope. We'll get through this. It will get better. Thank God for Dr. Fauci. Thank God for Dr. Birx. We can do this.
And then, the best. "Love you." "Love you, too." Which enables me to traverse the minefield with bravery, hope and courage. Because, as we've repeatedly heard, we're all in this together,
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