Here is how to best explain what kind of day I had yesterday...
I angry typed a blog post after I put the kids to bed, with lots of all caps letters and some ranting and a swear word or two. I used the phrases, "for the love of all that is holy" and "educate yourselves" in a mean spirited way. I got intense satisfaction of how impressively I was thwacking the keys on my keyboard - TWO typing classes in high school, take THAT techie millennials! Mama can type! With the right fingers! Without looking! THWACK. THWACK.
I almost hit publish. So close. Twenty year old Stephanie totally would have. Thirty year old Stephanie probably would have. Forty year old Stephanie thought maybe I should just hit save and sleep on it before possibly hurting the feelings of people in my life and sounding like a raving lunatic. Then I went to bed. And then I woke up at 4am, thinking of all the ways I could put this better, more succinctly. More likely to make someone listen. (For the record, if I wrote at 4am every night, I could be a novelist. I am most creative when the bats are out. However, I would be a freaking terrible mother.)
Yesterday, I ended the day seething with angst, bubbling up with frustration and heart wrenching worry. I spent the day working mostly. I manage a medical office - a medical office that is still operational and testing coronavirus patients. I have an entire staff of people I care about deeply that go to work every day afraid. I have staff that we had to lay off that are relieved to be home, but worried about how the government promises of help are overworked and slow to move. I have not stepped foot in the office in three weeks. My partner and our assistant manager are boots on the ground and doing an incredible job. They come from work and strip outside before going in to immediately shower and wash their scrubs so they don't bring any stray, sneaky germ into their homes. My partner sends me home paper packets - which I pick up with gloves or clorox wipes, sanitize the envelope, and then leave in a safe place outside for another 24 hours before opening - just to be safe. We have had to make decisions which we never even imagined would be on the radar and to forward think ten steps ahead to be prepared for something we have never faced.
And I look down my street and see a cable guy hop out of his truck - no mask, no gloves - and walk over to another parked truck and lean in the driver window to talk to the man driving - also not wearing a mask or gloves.
I have a younger sister who works in our office. She lives home with our parents - and my mom is high risk. My mom gets some kind of unshakeable respiratory illness every winter and was in the midst of one when corona came to town. So my sister moved in with me. She upended her normal life- a life that was mostly quiet and calm with lots of privacy- and moved in to my half finished basement rec room on a futon with her dog and my four kids and my cat. There are seven people in this house and one dopey loveable dog that is determined to befriend my arrogant adorable cat. (I know arrogant and adorable don't sound like they go together - you would need to meet my cat - he is awesome, if you aren't a dog) So my sister has made this sacrifice that is difficult on her - flipped her world upside down and has her living out of whatever she grabbed and stashed in her car that first day. My family had adjusted our routine and enveloped her in - but that was also not without growing pains.
And then I go to my parent's house armed with my sanitizers and gloves - and my father mocks me for sanitizing the lid of his trash can. And pokes at me for 'this nonsense' because he isn't going to die.
And then I go to Rite Aid because it is necessary - and I buy the strangest of assortment of goods I have ever bought from a Rite Aid, because if I am chancing going in public then I am damn well going to get every oddball thing we may need. Easter candy, batteries, more Cheetos, shampoo, and three bottles of wine....to name a few. And there are two cashiers sitting on stools side by side. Neither are wearing gloves or masks. The counter has a little bin of what looks like teeny tiny condoms - they are for your finger for the credit card machine. But if I reached in to touch one - I would touch about ten. (I totally had my own gloves on) The cashier probably touched my (gloved) hand three or four times while handing me groceries - he has zero sense of danger or caution.
And I go on Facebook and see people spouting theories - conspiracy theories and misinformation and sharing this like it is fact.
And I have close family members that use the phrases, "We are all going to get it anyway, who cares" and "I am healthy, I will be fine" and "we have probably already all had it and didn't know it anyway".
And I come home and my husband tries to argue something with me that I know to be 100% fact and his entire argument against me is "people know this, it is common sense, look it up" I have! I know I am right! And you sharing your opinion is not just annoying, but potentially harmful to people that need the correct information. And that isn't me needing to be right - it is me being informed and taking the time to find the facts.
And that was the last straw for me. I cannot fight the whole freaking world. I went upstairs, locked myself in the bathroom with every face cream and shower product I have squirreled away in my room and turned the water as hot as I could stand it while stress eating my (sanitized) Rite Aid Cheetos. I turned up some Casting Crowns on my phone, lost my shit a bit, and practiced self care. I came out, put the kids to bed, plugged in my headphones with my Christian friends still singing and found a Jodi Picoult book to lose myself in until I fell asleep. It was a smart decision.
I feel better now. Yesterday is closed. Done. One more day marked off on our corona calendar. Tomorrow starts fresh...in about three hours.
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