I’m Fine, Well Not Fine Exactly, But Normal Considering

I’m healthy and that’s all that counts.

I’m so sick of hearing about the “new normal.”

I want the old normal back, the one where I’m an old lady nobody pays attention to, instead of the person everyone looks on with dread. The old person who’s a serious drain on the health care system who might get a ventilator that could keep you or your loved one alive.

Why give me a ventilator? I’m 80 years old. What’s my life worth, anyway?

That’s a question for another article, one I’m in the process of writing.

That’s good news, to me, at least. Because for the last week, I haven’t been able to put two sentences together that made sense, and for me, that’s a change.

I’ve been writing daily for almost a quarter of a century, and this dry spell is proof of the toll of the pandemic. Not just on me, but everyone.

I’m fine, meaning I’m healthy. I’m in the high-risk group, so the fact that my temperature is normal every day is a very good sign.

I attribute that to the fact that I am in my fourth week of strict self-quarantine. The first two because I had a mild, contagious illness that has since resolved, and which was a blessing in disguise; it took me out of circulation when the pandemic blew up.

I also live in San Francisco. We were the first in the US to receive the shelter in place order. I don’t leave my apartment for any reason, which also keeps me out of range of the virus. I am so fortunate to have neighbors who do all my shopping and mail collecting and leave it outside my door.

In terms of health, I’m fine. My mental health is mostly fine. As a writer and single woman, I’m used to spending a great deal of time alone. I’m disciplined about getting my work done and enjoy solitude and entertaining myself.

I’m a born again hermit, but also very social. The last to leave a party.

But the crisis is taking a toll, nonetheless.

I’m not depressed, as far as I can tell. I’ve had depression in my younger days, and I know the signs. I have moments of terror about the virus. I think that’s a normal, healthy reaction to this reality.

I haven’t totally collapsed. I do some exercise every day, I keep in touch with my family and friends. I get dressed in nice clothes and put on makeup and jewelry to keep my spirits up and make my bed each morning.

But I can sleep for 14 hours at a time, starting in the middle of the day. A typical good night’s sleep for me is 6 hours. Sometimes I’m afraid to sit in a comfortable chair because I think I’ll fall asleep for hours on end. That’s not fine.

I’ll sit down with my dinner on my bed or couch in front of my TV or computer, as I often do, and wake up with my food cold and spoiled hours later. I’m a foodie. I live to eat. That’s not fine.

And my writing? I’m able to think up stories at the drop of a hat. This last week you’d think someone took an eraser and wiped the imagination from my DNA. That’s not fine.

But when I talk to my friends on the phone, on Wattsapp, FaceTime, or Skype, as I do every day, they all have the same story. Nobody can focus. Their concentration is shit. They want to do puzzles all day. And they are highly productive, energetic people, some even older than I am. That’s not fine.

But what it is, is normal, given the circumstances.

It’s the new normal, the new normal I hate.

But it’s too bad I don’t like the way things are now. It’s my job to adjust. Not just to make the best of it. But to get back to living my life and to thriving. Because if I don’t, if I allow myself to wallow in self-pity, to complain about the way things are and aren’t, I jeopardize my mental health.

I can run myself into a mean case of the blues if I go too long without writing, or if I get in the habit of sleeping my days away. That’s not what I am about.

Wasting a day here and there is no big deal for you. If you are in a younger demographic, you can afford to kick back and take a break from your hectic life during this enforced shut down of your normal routine.

I don’t have that luxury. I’ve lived most of my life. But that doesn’t mean I’m done with my life. I know if I end up in an emergency room deadly sick with the virus, the doctors will give a life-saving ventilator to a younger person. The actuarial tables will justify that decision.

But I can tell you that I’m not done with my life. And if I want to enjoy more years with my family, my friends, and my friends here on Medium, my job is to get over myself and get my mojo back.

Staying isolated out of the path of the virus is one part. Keeping myself mentally healthy so I’m not a drain on my family or friends is the other part.

I’ve adjusted to other situations I haven’t loved. I can recall a time when I hated being single. Now, I wouldn’t give it up.

I will never enjoy having a pandemic overrun our world. But I will learn to thrive in isolation. I may not be fine as a great wine today. But I’m writing again, and I’ll be more better tomorrow, and the day after that. Because if there’s one thing being old teaches you, it’s how to adapt. It’s the only way we get from there to here with a smile on our face.

I’ve had my time of floundering, of losing my way without my usual freedom to come and go as I please. Maybe you’ve been floundering too. I think that’s normal. We have to find our own way of adjusting to this because it’s going to go on for a good while. And our inability to foresee the end may be the hardest part for us.

The old saw that it takes a village has never been truer. The key to my resurgence of motivation did not come from some deep well of my own. It started yesterday with a conversation with my daughter. The outcome was a commitment to resurrect a writing project we’ve talked about forever. We began brainstorming, and all of a sudden, we were having fun again.

This morning I had a virtual meeting with my writing group. We’ve been meeting for almost twenty-five years now, and this is our second FaceTime meeting. They gave me so much encouragement that I’ve been writing since we got off the call.

So if I have any advice, it’s that we must reach out to one another. I said to my daughter the other day I could not do this if I didn’t have the internet.

I don’t think you could either.

Let’s flatten the curve, but keep our spirits up. I need it, you need it. We need each other. Down days are allowed, but isolation doesn’t mean solitary confinement, not of the spirit. I’m here for you if you’ll be there for me.

#WeAreInThisTogether

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