Anxiety from the Comfort of Home

I'm going to keep this one short because I just haven't got it today. 

Way back, five weeks ago, I remember admitting that I was actually kind of looking forward to some government-mandated do-nothing time.  I thought I might finally have a minute to breathe.  I am still employed, and I am childless, so an extended WFH should be a breeze, no?

Guys.  I am not relaxed right now.

I have been pulling extra long days to get all my work done and I feel like my husband, who is home but not working, feels neglected and wishes that I wasn't spending so much time on work. He will correct me, and I appreciate that.
I have lost 20+ people I provide care to in the last month and though I know there was no way to prepare for this whole thing, I feel like it's partly because I wasn't prepared.
I have friends and family who want to have zoom calls with me and I really miss their faces but I have had literally one or more video conference calls (three today) or meetings every day to learn something new or to fix something I can't fix in person and I have nothing left for those people at the end of the day. 

Last week I got a note from my corporate contact letting me know my work supporting front-line workers was noticed and appreciated, and I honestly couldn't think what I had done for her to give me that feedback.  It was nice, but I also feel a little like I'm going to be found out somehow.

Anyway, that's how I feel.  Like an impostor. Anxious.  Not rested.  I'm sure I'm not alone.

Stages in the Storm

The last time I wrote something here I wasn't in a good place. 

COVID-19 had taken hold in two of the long-term care homes I service, and as the Ontario Premier described, it spread like wildfire.  I was working a lot - to the point of overwork.  And even though I was feeling overworked, I had an overwhelming feeling of guilt because I still felt like I wasn't doing enough because at least my overwork was happening from the comfort and safety of home.

Early on in the week, I read this article. It's a comforting read.  I recommend it.

I've been having weekly meetings with my contract companies about what we know about how to provide nutrition care to people affected by COVID-19, how our practice is changing and how to manage new directives coming from the Ministry of Health in the wake of a worldwide emergency.

I know, and have always known, this about myself: I like a plan.  

My family would take a trip to visit our East Coast relatives every summer.  My mother would sometimes give me the provincial tourism book so I could daydream about what adventures we might have on our trip.  The end result would typically be that I had itinerized our entire trip with tourist traps, cultural festivals and local oddities.  My parents always had a much more low-key idea about how our trip would go.  There would generally be a meltdown at some point.

I've seen this meme floating around the internet lately that says "We're all in the same boat.  We're not all in the same storm."  

Years of disappointment about my abandoned clipboard of fun taught me to lower my expectations about how much I can fit into a day or a week.  Despite that, my need for a plan...any plan...has not wavered.  I do not like changing the plan.  Our collective response to our planetary crisis has required by-the-minute modifications to how we, as a population, as a community, and as a profession, manage our lives.  At the same time, the people collaborating on those plans are being pulled in so many different directions.  Engaging people who are busier than they ever signed up to be in making new plans is really difficult.  That is my storm.  Ever-evolving plans make me incredibly anxious. Creating contingencies with missing information or without input from key players puts me in a state of panic. Like I have to put a puzzle together to save my life or someone else's, but I know from the beginning that there are pieces missing.

After a videoconference meeting this week, I finally sent an email to one of my contract administrators expressing my anxiety.  I was nervous.  I don't like exposing myself and my vulnerabilities like that.  (I can broadcast them on the internet, but not in an email to one person...lol...).  The act of writing what's bothering me and sending it to someone was actually incredibly freeing. It helped that she was understanding of my opinion and was reassuring.  We need more of that these days.  But in that moment I had achieved acceptance of the grief I was feeling.  And that was good.

I've been here before.  Grieving.  I know it's not a set of stairs I can run up, Rocky-style, and be done with it.  But I know I can remember those moments of acceptance and know that over time (a long time, it seems) there will be more moments of acceptance than anger or anxiety or sadness.  I'm trying to look forward to that new normal.

A Big Steaming Pile...

This week has not been my best.

Isolation is starting to wear me down.  The last time I was outside was Monday and tomorrow's not really looking good for fresh air either.

Somehow, my right hip stopped working and now it's in constant pain.  Slept funny, maybe.  Who knows anymore.

Two of my three homes have positive COVID-19 cases and though I'm not on the front-lines there's lots of work to be done.  The paradox of this whole situation is that even though I can literally see the places I relax ALL DAY, I'm working much more than normal and can't actually spend the time relaxing.  I've been pulling extra long days and as things get hairy onsite, I'll be doing more to take as much load off my colleagues on the floor as I can.  They're...appreciative...I think.  To be honest, when I call the evening RN with my orders, the reception I get is not exactly warm.  I try to remember that what I'm doing right now seems pretty cushy in comparison to what they're doing and keep the smile plastered to my face, but the smile's starting to crack at the corners.

Everyone I know is struggling and my default response is to try and find a solution, but I'm tired and there are no solutions except to dig in and bear it.  This too shall pass.

But when?

Seriously, when?

Isolation Station

The journey continues.

This week, the Ministry of Health and the College of Dietitians threw more policy down the pipe and now I'm working from home unless something specific calls me into the LTC homes where I work.  The idea is to reduce transmission of the virus from home to home, and since I work in three, this makes sense.  It does bring up a bunch of ethical considerations regarding what constitutes essential on-site nutrition care and I'm definitely struggling with that.  I do feel better knowing I'm not going in and using up valuable PPE so the nursing staff can give the best care, but I'm also concerned that my residents are not getting the best care from me right now.

That's a whole ball of wax.  I've had at least 2 video conference calls per week teasing out what it means and I don't want to spend more time on it here, but it's on my mind, so I mention it.

In the meantime, I have been trying to maintain some level of not-going-crazy in the 1000 sq. feet that I share with my husband.  Here's how:

1. I get dressed for work every day.  Even though I'm not going anywhere.  I change into lounge clothes when I'm done. It helps me to distinguish between work time and home time.  Also, it means that if I do have to go in, I'm already dressed. 

2. Staying in contact.  I've been keeping in touch with friends and family a little more than I had been pre-COVID-19.  I'm happy to know they're safe and we commiserate about what's hard about this and what we're hopeful about.  It's nice and I should have been doing more of it.

3. Staying active.  Right now I'm finding that the weather is beautiful all morning and garbage at right around the time I'm clocking off, and this one would be easier if I could get on my bike and ride without getting pneumonia...but I'm trying to get moving regularly.  My gym is closed, but my trainer sent me at-home workouts which I've been doing.  I'm still finding that my joints are starting to feel sore, probably from underuse, and I need to focus more on this.

4. Deleting Facebook from my phone.  I had been toying with dropping FB from my life altogether, but too many groups I'm part of use FB to communicate, including my family.  I disabled the app on my phone, which means I can still use messenger to communicate with people, but I'm not finding myself scrolling through the multiple graphs showing the totally disheartening case-doubling rates of my province, my country and our neighbour to the south, and I'm not doing deep-dives in my friends' comments and getting into flame wars with people I don't really know about whatever it is I disagree with.  I log on once or twice throughout the day from my laptop or desktop, but that's it and I feel better about it.

5. Online scrabble.  My family and I have been playing Lexulous.  This has been good because I have to focus on something very concrete - making the letters I have fit into the letters that are on the board.  I'm historically terrible at this game even though I have a fairly extensive vocabulary.  I remember a friend inviting me over to play scrabble and pulling out all his best stops because he thought I'd be really good.  He skunked me.  Anyway....it's also been good because I'm actually better at it than I remember (or my opponents are taking it easy on me...either way...), and that makes me feel good about something.

Still and all, I'm walking a fine line with my mental health.  I'm actually finding weekends harder because there's less structure to the day and my mind wanders to places it maybe shouldn't go right now.  I'm watching a lot more TV than I normally would and I'm not so proud of that.  Most of what I'm reading is suggesting we've got another month or more of this, so digging in to what's working and getting rid f what's not is going to be extremely important. 

I hope everyone's coping.  I would be really interested to hear what's working for you.

The One with COVID-19

These are strange times, friends.

And I'm in a strange spot.  I'm a healthcare worker, but not a frontline healthcare worker.  I have contact with a vulnerable population, but not *intimate* contact.  One of my employers has asked me to work remotely.  The other two have decided that I'm an essential service.  I'm confused about what that means.

Every once in a while I get that strange feeling that what's happening around me is happening, on a greater or smaller scale, to every single other person around the world and then I feel very small.  Because nothing that's happening to me is special, except everything that's happening to everyone right now is special.

I don't have any cool advice on how to deal.  Part of me was feeling a little overwhelmed with life and is a teensy bit relieved to have government-mandated stop-everything-you're-doing-and-stay-the-fuck-home time.  I recognize that feeling has a lot to do with the level of privilege I enjoy.  I own a functioning bicycle and have access to all kinds of streaming workouts.  I have a fairly large stockpile of food in my cupboards and freezer, although some of it is a little...unconventional (anybody need a box of cocoa nibs?  I have three.  Will trade for dry pasta or eggs).  My yarn and fabric stashes have been calling my name for *years*.  The internet/cellphone waves keep me in touch with my loved ones far and wide.  And let's not forget the famed movie list.  I'm crossing things off of that baby like crazy.

The takehome here is that I'm probably going to be fine. But I have worries.  I have people who are maybe not going to be fine.  The fact that the various curves I keep refreshing on various public health-ish websites could go either way still makes me worried.  I'm terrified that someone's going to sneeze on my coat at the grocery store and I'm going to be partially responsible for flattening a whole floor of octagenarians because my service was deemed essential.  Everything is cancelled or closed "until further notice" and the lack of expiry date on this thing makes me hyperventilate a little.

I still don't have any cool advice on how to deal.  Everything is normal and abnormal at the same time.  Shit's weird.  Everybody shits.

New List

Ugh...I keep trying to write something and I'm not getting past the first few sentences.

I've been trying to read more lately.  More books, first and foremost, but also articles and commentaries on current events.  One of my aborted attempts at this post was inspired by an article about African American installation artist Kara Walker. 

More recently, I read an article about how the internet has become a giant library of top 10 listicles.  It's not too far from the truth, and as a lifelong list-maker myself, it hit home for me. The piece made the argument that the ever-expanding archive of ranked lists is really part of the capitalist machine to steer our collective consumption.  When I see a top 10 list, my gut reaction is to add the things on that list into one of my own lists.  I have a list of podcasts I want to listen to, a list of books I want to read, a list of movies I want to see, a list of recipes I want to make, a list of crafts I want to craft...the list goes on.  The part of me that wants to eat the rich and smash the patriarchy tells myself that I will only buy these things when I actually need a new one, or when someone asks me what I would like as a gift, or I will only borrow it from the library (I guess that one only works for books...)...

I could go on to defend myself with the notion that most of the lists I'm culling for my own list-fodder are written by people or groups that ascribe mainly to my own particular ideals, the deeper part of me knows that it's still all just part of the WANT machine that's been driving us more and more lately.  A large part of me knows I can never possibly listen to all the podcasts, read all the books, watch all the movies, bake all the cakes and knit all the hats because I simply don't have the time or money to do that and still go to work and exercise and eat right and sleep a full 8 hours every night.  That part of me is dying of FOMO every second.

A gentleman I know who used to work in the publishing industry told me that the reason for all the lists on the internet and all the franchise reboots in the movies and all the sampling and covering in music is that the planet earth is DESPERATE for content.  Always be (making) CONTENT so we can ALWAYS BE CONSUMING.

How can this possibly be?  I feel like I'm *figuratively* drowning in CONTENT. I can't even keep up with the articles I'm trying to read about how the content that's out there isn't even very good.  This entry I'm writing isn't very good, but that's because I'm trying to force myself to create content.

...

I know this is where I usually have a tidy little resolution where I find a way to resolve things for myself.  But the truth is, I really don't know how to stop making lists.  And the corollary to that is that I also want to remove things from the list...Hmmm...

New list:
1. Eat the rich.
2. Smash the patriarchy.

...

There's the denouement I was looking for.

New Orleans, New Outlook

My husband and I went on our extremely belated honeymoon in January.  We went to New Orleans, which had been something we had discussed pretty soon after it became clear that our relationship was going to last the long haul.  It's good that we had determined that already because the drive there was a REALLY LONG HAUL.

We chose New Orleans mainly for the music and food, and to a lesser extent its open container laws.

We enjoyed all of those things to the fullest extent possible given our time and budget, but what I came away with was a sort of confused sense of identity.  Before we arrived, I had heard or read that New Orleans is the black sheep city of America.  It really did seem to be a place where weirdos of all stripes congregated to do their thing.  Our Garden District tour guide didn't JUST tell us about which houses had which famous people living in them, but would also get SUPER excited about the Italianate ironwork on the galleries.  Both of our French Quarter tour guides billed themselves, first and foremost, as paranormal investigators, which I thought was just a job for people on TV.  Vampires roamed the streets at night and drag queens roamed them by day.  Guys who looked down on their luck would sit on a curb with a cell phone, a microphone and a tiny speaker and sing their hearts out for change.  Just down the street, a multi-piece brass ensemble would be doing their best to drown him out.  Psychics and mediums were set up everywhere waiting for someone to sit in the lawn chair across from them. 

Strange though it may seem, I really felt that I was with my people.

I wrestle with that statement because I'm a pretty straight-laced person.  My friends and family have always joked that trips with me involve the clipboard of fun because I've planned every detail to the last.  I once suggested to a boyfriend that I might shave one side of my head and do that rockabilly undercut thing.  He laughed and said I would be way too self-conscious about it to pull it off.  I don't wear a lot of makeup, even for special occasions.  I don't drink too much.  I make lists.  For everything.

I like a nice cardigan.

Maybe I just appreciated that so many people could let their inner weirdo out and feel ok about it. 

I also, perhaps surprisingly, consult oracle cards every morning to help set an intention for the day.  I'm not trying to see the future or call on a deceased loved one - I'm just trying to centre in on how I should approach the day.  The cards keep suggesting changes coming and I'm not sure how to fit that into my daily intention box.

I'm hopeful about a few things, but if all the cards portend is that this is finally the time that I take all of my mundanities and my idiosyncrasies and realize that I can be boring and weird at the same time, then that's fine with me.

Because I do believe that I can get guidance from the ether through a set of cards I bought at Chapters.

But I also REALLY like a nice cardigan.