Usually on Fridays, I write a paid subscribers-only post, and this week I was gonna write about yet another escape room movie I saw. But the one-year anniversary of this pandemic seeming “real” to many people was yesterday and honestly, I’m having a hard time wanting to write about a dumb-ass escape room movie today.
I have been incredibly lucky, in that the pandemic and lockdown have been relatively easy on me. I didn’t lose my job. I’ve been able to do my job from home, and I’ve been able to record my podcast from home. I’ve been able to afford rent and food. My partner and I treat each other well, and we’re not sick of each other. I’ve cut my own hair three times and it looks fine. I have a great support system of friends and family who I may not be able to see in person, but feel comfortable reaching out to if I need it. During the pandemic, I was finally able to receive diagnoses for two health problems that I’ve been struggling with for most of my life, and now I’m receiving treatment that’s making those problems much better.
No one close to me has died of COVID.
I know this past year has been so much harder for most people, especially people of colour, front-line workers, and people below the poverty line. And it’s been even harder than that for people who live in countries that have repeatedly stalled and even refused to offer support for its citizens. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a loved one when you can’t even go see them one more time or go to their funeral.
I’m not under any delusions that my relatively fine pandemic experience is a poignant one. I’m fine. I’m mostly fine. But I’m sad. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss going to the office and hanging out with my coworkers. I miss getting a hot dog from a street vendor. As my wonderful friend Jocelyn tweeted, I miss mediocre experiences.
I’m so sick of using Zoom that I dream of the day I can just delete it from my computer forever. This past year has somehow felt like it went on forever and went by in a flash.
I’m sad that I have no idea when I’ll get vaccine, or when my parents will be able to get it, or when all my friends will finally get it. Ontario’s rollout has been pretty terrible, though it seems to be slightly improving, but that could change, so who the hell even knows.
It’s this constant, low-level sadness that I know will end, and know that the end is coming, but I don’t know when or how long it will take to get here. And we’re all sad together, but it’s similar to the sadness you feel after a breakup — even though you know everyone has gone through it, the pain still feels unique and incredibly specific to you. We might all know how each other feels, but there just isn’t much we can do to help, other than encourage each other to keep going. The only way out is through.
The only choice is to really just keep going, just hold on, and have faith that we’ll be able to keep doing that until enough people are vaccinated. I don’t know how things will be after that happens, because frankly I don’t have the energy to think beyond the next few months. You can’t force me to run a marathon and then in the final five kilometres ask me, “So how do you think you’re getting home after this?”
I don’t know if I really have a point to this newsletter today. Just that it’s been a whole year, a whole shitty-ass year, and we’re all pretty fucking sad, and it’s okay to be pretty fucking sad. I can’t do much to take away your sadness, and you can’t do much to take away mine, but at least if we’re all sad, at least we know that we’re still going.
Love,
Kat
Sending good vibes, Kat!! As the East High Wildcats would say, we’re all in this together. (Forgive me for that terrible reference.) But it’s true—it does help to know this is a global experience. All we can do is support each other. I’m so glad you started this newsletter, and IHIBILI makes me so happy. Virtual hugs from New Jersey!
It really does feel for the majority of the world like with these vaccines we’ve finally turned a corner and that there is light at the end of the tunnel. I know I am immensely privileged to be living where I am and where life is back to normal, but with friends and family all over the world I still worry all the time. Sending hugs and hope x