avatarY.L. Wolfe

Summary

Yael Wolfe reflects on the emotional challenges of self-quarantine during the pandemic, grappling with isolation, the absence of physical contact, and the fear of endangering loved ones.

Abstract

The article "Alone in a Pandemic" by Yael Wolfe delves into the personal struggles faced by a single individual during the COVID-19 quarantine. Wolfe discusses the initial underestimation of the pandemic's severity and the subsequent realization of the need for strict self-isolation. The author expresses deep concern for the health of vulnerable family members, which restricts physical contact and increases feelings of loneliness. The piece captures the emotional toll of social distancing, including frustration, fear, and the longing for human touch. Wolfe also touches on the practical difficulties of obtaining groceries amidst shortages and the mental health challenges of prolonged isolation. Despite efforts to stay connected through technology and maintain a routine, the uncertainty of the situation and the lack of physical contact weigh heavily.

Opinions

  • The author initially underestimated the severity of the pandemic and the necessity of strict self-isolation.
  • There is a significant emotional burden in being unable to visit and hug family members, especially for someone who values physical contact.
  • The writer is deeply worried about inadvertently spreading the virus to at-risk loved ones, including parents with health issues and a nephew with heart defects.
  • The article conveys a sense of frustration and envy towards those who have partners or children to interact with during the quarantine.
  • There is a palpable sense of grief and self-pity over the loss of normal life and the inability to engage in previous social activities.
  • The author expresses irritation at the lack of certain food items in stores and empathy for those facing financial hardship.
  • Wolfe acknowledges the struggle of balancing the desire to see family with the need to protect them, likening the decision to choosing between parents to the pain of a divorce.
  • The piece reflects on the challenges of extroverted friends and the personal adaptation to a solitary lifestyle that was once a choice but is now mandated.
  • Despite attempts to find positivity and freedom in the quarantine lifestyle, there is an underlying shadow of uncertainty and longing for human connection.
  • The author requests understanding and patience from others who may not fully grasp the impact of isolation on single individuals.

Alone in a Pandemic

No hugs, no sex, no groceries…what’s a single gal to do?

Image by Emily Nachbauer on Scopio

As I write this, it’s been fourteen days since I’ve left my house, except for two visits to the empty grocery store. My self-quarantine started out on a shaky though hopeful note. I was happy to comply with the soft recommendations that were coming through the news about staying home for two weeks. Two weeks at home for this introvert? No problem!

I guess it’s fair to say that I really didn’t have a full grasp on this situation. I figured that if I stayed home and only ventured out for groceries, avoiding any social activities, surely, my family would continue to welcome visits with me. In my imagination, we’d all stay home, except to visit with one another and keep each other company.

But each day of the self-quarantine brought new information to light. Our governor started by closing our schools and limiting gatherings, despite pushback from many constituents who are more inclined to follow the advice of Texas Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick and under criticism from neighboring states who were already enforcing full lock-downs. We learned at the end of last week that she was about to issue an executive order that would require all residents to stay home except for necessary trips to the grocery store or medical offices.

It’s strange now that I didn’t understand the severity of restrictions we were about to face. It’s strange that I assumed I’d be able to visit with my family. Maybe I couldn’t comprehend circumstances that would prevent me from doing that. Maybe it was too scary to imagine.

I broke down in tears last weekend when I realized what was ahead for me. I’m single and I live alone.

I cannot see Sunny or Frank. Both of them, due to their work circumstances, are occasionally exposed to the public, which means I would have a much higher risk of contracting this virus if I choose to see them.

I suppose I could do that. I’m not actually worried about getting sick myself, as I am in very good health. Though I think it’s foolish to be too cavalier.

What I’m actually worried about is the one thing we all should be worried about — spreading this virus to someone else.

My mother, at 68, suffers from severe cardiac issues. Getting sick with coronavirus could be disastrous for her.

My dad, at 78, is partially paralyzed, has respiratory issues, and can barely walk from one end of a room to another. I cannot imagine what this virus could do to him.

My niece, Mabel, is six months old. Though children and babies do not currently appear to be a “vulnerable” demographic, we still don’t know everything about this virus and my brother and his wife, understandably, do not want to put their baby at risk.

And then there’s my nephew, Alex, who just turned one. He was born with multiple heart defects that will require several open-heart surgeries. He is most certainly in the vulnerable category — his doctors are insistent that he remain isolated as much as possible in order to protect him from this virus.

So no, as much as I’m unafraid about getting sick for myself, I’m terrified of getting sick for the sake of those I love.

But also…the thought of not seeing my family or friends for the next six to eight weeks (or longer…?)… I’m struggling deeply with that realization.

On social media, all of my friends are joking about how much sex they’re having because there’s nothing else to do.

For the past few days, I’ve become irrationally angry when I read posts like that. “Fuck you and your fucking happy marriages,” I grumble, before realizing that only two weeks in, and I’m starting to lose it. God only knows what I’ll be like in three more weeks.

I feel bad for complaining, but I can’t seem to help myself sometimes. There’s no one here to stop me, for Christ’s sake! I alone am managing my mental health and this is normally a ten-person job!

Oh, sorry. I did it again. That Isolation Rage. Okay, I’m taking a deep breath…

It might sound silly, but I’m scared of going a month or more without a hug. I know that probably seems crazy, but most people have someone in their life who is required to hug them — you know, a partner, a kid… I assume most people get hugged at least once a day, an act that so many take for granted.

I’m deeply aware of the amount of hugs I get each week. Thankfully, one of those hug encounters is during my (once but no longer) weekly visits to my sister’s house, where I’d get not only five hugs coming in and five hugs going out, but at least an hour of cuddling with Alex. I usually see one of my parents during a week — there’s another two hugs — and either Frank or Sunny (two more there).

If you’re not single, you might not realize the importance of these hugs and the way some of us look forward to these little morsels of human contact. I’m an extremely touchy-feely person.

I’m worried I’ll die of touch starvation before I die of actual starvation during this quarantine.

Oh yeah, that’s the other issue. Where’s all the goddamn food, people? For all the reports of families taking huge financial hits right now (which I know so many are, including myself), how are people affording to buy so many groceries?

There’s no bread at my local grocery stores. No rice, no beans, no ramen, no flour, no nuts, no seeds, no eggs, no dairy… Thankfully, there are lots of fresh vegetables, but come on, people! I got no hugs here, can I at least have some goddamn carbs?

Ooops. There I go again. Okay…another deep breath.

I talked to my mom today. She said if I fully quarantine myself for two weeks, she’ll let me come over and stay with her at the ranch.

It’s tempting. I’d love to be in the woods and keep company with the owls and coyotes.

But she’s pretty hardcore about the quarantine. No visits to the grocery store or anywhere else. And no visits with my dad.

I haven’t seen him (or anyone) since the 10th, and I don’t plan to at this point, for the sake of their health and safety. But how can I make a choice between my parents? (My god, this is like the divorce all over again.)

I think my dad would be hurt to know that I chose to spend this time with my mom instead of him. Further, I’m not comfortable being so far away from him in case he needs something. If he has a crisis, I think it would be worth the risk for me to be there.

So I do what I’ve always done with my parents — instead of making a decision, I make none.

I have no choice with my siblings. They will do what I would do — protect their kids, even if that means not seeing anyone for months — or in Alex’s case, possibly not until a vaccine is developed.

Yes, I’ve gone head-long into catastrophizing when it comes to Alex. I won’t see him for at least a year. He’ll forget all about me. He won’t recognize me the next time I see him. He’ll be so big and I’ll have missed everything. Our connection will be gone. He’ll be too old to cuddle. I won’t mean anything to him anymore.

This is different than the Isolation Rage, as you can see. This is more Solitary Self-Pity, which is just as irrational as the Isolation Rage. (Or is it?)

But seriously, self-pity or not, when I think of Alex and how much I miss his head on my shoulder or the way he snakes his arm underneath mine when I’m holding him so he can play with my fingers when he’s tired…I just want to cry.

And sometimes, I do.

I suppose I should be grateful. Sunny and Frank are extroverts and being isolated from people is their worst nightmare.

Me, someone who doesn’t like to leave her house in the best of times… I’m well-suited for this.

But then again, that was back when I could still venture out to soothe my loneliness. Back when being home was a choice I made, not an executive order. Back when my isolation helped me balance out the times when I was socially or emotionally overwhelmed.

Now I’m just plain overwhelmed. And alone. All the time.

I’m trying to be proactive and take care of myself. I go on a walk every single day. I work in my garden and occasionally talk to a neighbor over the fence (from at least six feet away, of course). I video chat with Frank, Sunny, my sister, my brothers, the nieces and nephews, and my mother regularly. I talk on the phone with my dad. I text various cousins, friends, and former co-workers each day. I limit my exposure to the news.

But there’s a shadow that lurks over my head. No, not the virus, and not even my financial concerns. The shadow is the uncertainty of how long this isolation will last. The shadow is my longing for someone to hug me. The shadow is my grief over my separation from sweet Baby Alex. The shadow is how much I miss going out for pizza with Frank or hiking with Sunny. The shadow is my grief over the way life used to be.

Despite this, I keep promising myself I’ll try to revel in this weirdness. I’ll wear my pajamas all day when I want to (and I have — check my Instagram feed if you want proof). I’ll go on a walk whenever I want to. Who cares? I’ve got nothing but open boxes on my calendar right now. I’ll eat cookies every day until I run out of flour. I’ll take a bath in the middle of the day. I’ll work from my bed.

I’ll try to take it as a free pass to be as upside-down as the world is right now.

But please do forgive me if you make jokes about how much sex you’re having and I answer with a bitchy, angry comment. Please forgive me if you share cute photos of your kids and I respond with crying emojis or dramatic statements about how I’m going to die if I go one more day without Alex.

And for god’s sake, please send help if 48 hours go by without a peep from me. I’d be pissed if I died alone in my house and no one noticed until the pandemic ended.

© Yael Wolfe 2020

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