Putting COVID-19 into the Box(es)

These current months of pandemic life, from the mundane necessity of hand-washing to the uncertainty, the speculation, the tightening and loosening of restrictions, the confusion, have something in common with the time in my life as a caregiver. Future looms and clouds. How do we sort through this — what is the path?

Days of shock

My 51st year was one of caregiving my spouse 24/7 through his rapid form of ALS. Those months began with hours and days of shock, and then months that brought Change with each week. The change created its own rhythm, and part of getting through that time was learning the workings of that rhythm, and figuring out how to sort through.

Now days tick by. Slowly. Many days I have managed to write my 1000 words a day; that’s my job. But there are–of course–other demands on my time. And as I was standing outside my corner grocery store, Union Market, in a lineup that did not look like a line, waiting for my turn to be one of two people inside, a thought occurred to me.

Panic

This time we are going through, while very different from my time of caregiving, shares some commonalities. In that time of crisis, I found that I needed to create mental boxes to place pieces of the reality, and to differentiate between what needs to be considered or responded to each day, and week, and month. Next year, even.

And now I am doing that again. I have slipped back to that rhythm. I have had moments of thinking of “future.” The first few times that my mind went there, I began to feel some bit of panic at the edges of the thought. I had to pull myself back from it. The panic and the need to pull back made me realize that I am back in crisis-land, and I realized I was going to have to unpack and put to use those old boxes again.

The boxes

The today box is for what needs to be done Right Now. Today I will think about the meals I will be making. I will look to see what I have. If I can delay shopping, I will. I’ve always loathed shopping of all sorts, anyway. What do I need to do for my teaching? Can I get my daily word count written? Are there phone calls I need to make? My mother is very lonely, and a phone call can make a big difference. Are there emails I need to make for the same reason? Then, too, there are emails and things that must be written in lieu of the book promotion that I had planned. When my mind begins to slip into that other mode — the thinking ahead or panic mode — I pull back to Today mode, and back into the Today Box.

Today and This Week

But then there does have to be a This Week box, too, and in that box I plan when do I really have to grocery shop (Forage For the Family), and what do I absolutely need. I keep a running list so I don’t have to go out again for something I’ve forgotten. I do not want to hoard. And my new home is not big enough to hoard. But I also don’t want to be in a store for a minute longer than need be. I’m finding being in a store to be overwhelming. When I leave I always feel I have a sore throat…psychosomatic or what? When I get home, I do the rinse-with-hot-water-and-too-much-salt thing…and it goes away. For This Week, I look at the calendar and plan for the on-line meetings, and class lectures. Laundry. What chapter am I working on. And who have I not checked in with for a bit…?

This Month

Then there is the This Month box. This month…well, you get the idea. There IS a Future Box, too. One for the looming summer. What will that look like? And now we are hearing rumours that the fall will be about Wave Two of This Virus Thing. So, for five minutes a day, I need to think about that. And on Facebook, when a friend posted lovely pics of the pottery candles she is creating, I wrote about how they look like Christmas shopping to me…so that is in a Future Box, too. I hope.

Oops. Don’t go there…

I have become too good at cutting off mid-thought. Getting back to what is at hand.

When my mother was dealing with my dad’s ALS (yes, by some strange life twist, my father also had the disease, diagnosed the year following my spouse’s passing) she said she worried constantly about the future. I reminded her she had a lot to do today and this week. But she said she still worried.

Ten minutes

“Put on a timer,” I said, almost harshly, really. “Ten minutes. No more. Think about the future, with a pen and paper and jot down what you need to do for it. When the timer goes, you know you’re done. You’ve done as much planning as you need, and as you can. And then get back to today.” This is advice I have come to give myself at times. Many times.

What’s that quote about writing a novel…? “Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” (E.L. Doctorow)

Headlights

Same thing. Thing is, you have to drive and you have to write (if you are a writer). You can make the trip. That will happen. But you are only ever exactly where you are on the road at any given moment. So be there.

Live in your This Minute Box.