Party of One, Pandemic Version
Today’s post is personal, not universal. Perhaps there is a universality among those of us who are on a similar trajectory. It helps knowing that we’re not the only ones feeling these feelings, especially while struggling to comprehend how other people can keep living their lives, eating at restaurants, drinking in bars, gathering together in their homes, shopping, traveling, acting as if nothing has changed. It’s clear how little they value our lives and the lives of millions of other people who are vulnerable to the worst effects of this virus. To them we are, essentially, disposable.
Ain’t that a bitch?
Knowing that my life matters less than a Super Bowl party or a trip to Barbados or a hair dye refresh or a Bloomin’ Onion is painful on a cellular level. It’s not as if I want to be isolated, separated, disconnected. I miss eating at restaurants. I miss human contact. I miss shopping and traveling and getting my hair done. I miss freedom. I miss it all, but I know that I might miss it all forever if I get sick. I also know that by staying home and avoiding infection, I’m protecting other people and preventing ‘new and improved’ variants of the virus from evolving. That matters to me.
We’re all in this together. Aren’t we?
Except for the maskholes and covidiots who refuse to make even the smallest concessions for the greater good.
“This land is my land, this land is my land…this land was made for me and me…and not you. Fuck your feelings!”
The rest of us, the reasonable ones, aren’t we all in this together?
Is this thing on?
Party of One, Pandemic Edition.
It’s hard to say when or how or if this current reality will shift. It doesn’t help that there are other deeply concerning things happening alongside the pandemic. It’s a clusterfuck of constant chaos and there are days when I’m finding it hard to dig up even a modicum of sparkle to counteract my ever increasing anxiety. There are millions of us struggling in our bubbles of safety. And yes, of course, we know that having a bubble of safety is something for which we should be grateful. That makes it difficult to complain.
Well, today I need the release.
The truth is, I’m hanging on by a thread here.
My state has botched their vaccine rollout. I can’t even get an appointment to get a vaccine. It may be months before they’re available to those of us who were just inserted into the first phase of a four phase rollout. It’s also unclear if I qualify for this first phase or if, even with the state of my lungs, I have to wait for phase four with the healthy folks. There are no subtle distinctions being made, not all asthmatics take steroids and not all asthma is the same. That doesn’t matter to bureaucrats. Therefore, the light at the end of my tunnel is dim. Every time a friend posts that they’ve gotten their vaccine I feel a potent combination of unbridled joy for them and increasing frustration for me.
Is it okay to admit this, out loud? I don’t want anyone to feel guilty. I just want to be one step closer to being free.
The vaccine isn’t a hall pass, but as time and the virus progress it feels more and more like a Hail Mary pass and that’s fucking exhausting.
I will survive or I’ll become a casualty among millions of others who will not make it. It will matter to those who love me, and it will matter little to those who do not. These are difficult truths to accept, but they are truths and I must accept them. As long as I’m still here, I’ll keep holding on to that thread of hope. I want as many people as possible to be here for that post-pandemic party of millions. For as long as it takes, even when my thread wears thin, I’ll remain a hopeful Party of One.