apiscespandemic

[apiscespandemic]

entry 4 day 33

I wasn’t going to write this entry, but I told myself that it didn’t have to be long. 

I woke up later than expected, worried that I didn’t respond to a friend’s message in time. They had offered to get my groceries (thankfully! I was running so low) and I hadn’t sent them my grocery list yet. But it worked out––they didn’t end up going to the store for another few hours. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, had breakfast while listening to Democracy Now, made a mini watercolor painting and wrote my friend a thank you letter. Then, I did some easy, creative work for one of my jobs. 

While I worked, I kept looking out my window, waiting for my friend to arrive. Every time a car passed by or something stirred, my eyes would dart to the scene in hopes that it was them. I was a child again––hopeful, desperate, and vulnerable. When my friend texted me that they arrived, I bolted to the door. I already had my outdoor shoes on (though I rarely wear anything but my slippers while inside) and my freshly-cleaned mask tied up beneath my chin. I might have even ran outside to meet them––I don’t remember, but I wouldn’t be surprised. They took the groceries out of their trunk then sprayed them with disinfectant. A neighbor rudely commented from afar, “That’s just wasteful.” My friend calmly responded, “That’s what some people need to do to stay healthy.” We shared a confused glance––that intuitively sensed and beautifully nuanced connection that can only be felt in person. I was immediately talkative, almost like a yowling pet when her caretakers finally come home. I had to force myself to stop talking as I walked my groceries back and forth from their car to my porch. So I was really grateful when they said they had time to sit outside with me and talk for a bit. I felt oddly nostalgic, as if I was a wisened man catching up with an old comrade from way back when. But way back when was only five weeks ago and this old comrade was actually a new friend. Then my friend left, and reality seemed to melt like a dream. That must be why people say, “Pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.” Without physical contact with other people, the world feels unreal and our bodies long for a tangible awakening. 

Other than that, it was chilly outside so I didn’t go for a walk today (not that it’s an excuse... unless?). Afterwards, I talked with Callan over video chat. I’m talking with Isabelle now. My neck, jaw, back, and shoulders hurt. Maybe I’ll stretch more before I go to sleep. 

I guess this entry ended up being long anyway, huh? It was probably for the best that I wrote this out. I often get overwhelmed by the idea of independently processing my feelings in a long-drawn out, specific way. Who will nod and tell me they understand? How can I tilt these experiences into an emotive reality without crumbling? Was that even a sentence? Who would even read this? Will I even read this? I don’t know the answers to these questions. But I suppose it’s worth trying anyway.

[apiscespandemic]

entry 3 night 32

It’s hard to admit when I have good days--especially now. The baseline emotion for most of my life has been anxious, depressed, or hyper-focused. Being on my own, I feel those things more often than not. So the question becomes: what does a good day look like? If I happen to get my checklist done or go a day without a complete meltdown, does that mean I had a good day? What quality of life can I qualify as good when it seems like the world is crumbling and I’m just trying to keep my head above the sand?

To summarize yesterday, day 31: meh? I felt really grateful to have lots of calls with people. I talked with my mom, my girlfriend, my ex-girlfriend, an old best friend from high school, new friends at a Jewish queer grief workshop, and my dad. So I guess it was a good day, at least by social standards. I even went on a walk--after breaking down in tears about my ex-girlfriend, that is. It seems so unfair that I built a life with her for 6 years and now she is sheltering in place with someone else. We just broke up in December. She fell out of love with me while falling in love with someone else. She denied her feelings, lacked adequate communication skills to connect with me, and didn’t make any attempt to address these issues despite how many times and ways I explained how to. But she’s been my best friend for such a long time. I miss her and I need her in my life right now. No one else is coming to see me in person because they’re all too wrapped up in their own lives. I don’t blame them--I know this is a really hard time. I’m just in a shitty situation and I wish I had someone to be with me. So as much as it’s painful to see my ex, speaking with someone in person has been one of the best parts of these last few weeks. It was also so indescribably wonderful to hear from DT, my best friend from high school. I hadn’t spoken to him for years. He had been struggling with addiction for a long time when he took a very toxic turn and seemed to deny help that was available to him. It was a really difficult decision to stop speaking with him because I was afraid that I would never be able to again. But it sounds like he’s on a good path. Whatever the future of our friendship holds, I’m overjoyed that DT is finding ways to grow and be healthy. I also really enjoyed talking to my dad over video chat. Even though he doesn’t always say the right things, just the sound of his voice and look on his face makes me feel loved. At the same time, I think his words and mentality definitely contribute to my stress surrounding daily personal achievements. He encouraged me to write New Yorker styled essays about my political visions and opinions--as he always reminds me, he’s long thought that I “could be a Susan Sontag of this time.” I tried to explain to him that I’m having trouble completing basic tasks--that aiming so high doesn’t seem effective right now when I would just be setting myself up for disappointment. He praised my self-awareness in wonder as if it was an alien concept. At the end of the day, it feels like so much emotional energy is spent just trying to exist on my own that I end up spending all my time trying to feel better. And I suppose it works. I mean, hey--I’m alive, right? (...Right?) It just doesn’t feel as rewarding as I want it to be. 

I woke up at 9 today and felt unusually ready to get out of bed. The sky was blue and I was looking forward to my therapy appointment at 10. I listened to Democracy Now, read more news, ate an apple, and made some coffee. After my therapy appointment, I did lots of chores (cleaned the bathroom, scooped the litter boxes, vacuumed the living room, took out trash and recycling, did laundry, etc.) and took a shower. I spent a long time fixating on pimples across my body in between doing chores and showering--something I’ve managed to avoid by covering the mirrors. But alas, some mirrors were not covered, and I found myself deciding that it was a good time for “extractions.” To compensate, I put on a clay mask while I was in the shower--because that makes it even, right? (No, seriously, someone tell me I’m right.) After that, I got dressed and had a long phone call with my boss. She asked me to complete a number of very doable tasks, which made me feel driven and responsible but also tired and overwhelmed. Then, I had already committed to writing my first letter to a pen pal today, so I quickly jotted down an introduction and taped inside a cute mini watercolor landscape with a rainbow. At that point, I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything since the morning. I snacked on some sunflower seeds and then ate a peanut butter and jelly matzah “sandwich.” My mom called and we caught up a bit. I started getting super stressed overhearing her yell at her dog for barking and being anxious when she never even walks him. Of course he’s barking--I would be the same way if I lived in that house like he does. As a way to end that conversation, I decided to call my grandparents since it had been a few days and ended up speaking with my grandpop about the future of virtual higher education while putting my letter in the mailbox. Then, a new friend offered to get me groceries! I drafted a watercolor painting to give them as a thank you (in addition to buying extra food for their organization’s food pantry). Finally, I video chatted with IsO while making matzah brei, stretching, and now writing this entry. I’m really grateful that IsO has been calling me more frequently. I’d like keep this level of contact with them but I’m afraid to get my hopes up. They can be a bit flakey sometimes and I’m not sure how much more rejection (even slight ones) I can take. I guess that’s a problem for future me, though. For now, I’ll try to be content with the time that I have and the things that I managed to do with it--whatever that looks like. 

[apiscespandemic]

entry 2 night 30:

I woke up at 2 today. well, I suppose I first woke up at 9 with my alarm but then went back to sleep. the idea of fully waking up crossed my mind every now and then, but I just couldn’t muster the energy or even the desire. it wasn’t until my cats started nuzzling my head in hopes for food that I finally got up and conceded to the daytime. 

I did a lot of other things today. I made my bed and my daily checklist. it was a cloudy day outside, so I used my sunlight while I had coffee and an apple. I video chatted with my mom and talked to her about my rude neighbor and my complicated ex-girlfriend. I got dressed and I brushed my teeth. I video chatted with my girlfriend while she wrote an essay and I wrote a lesson plan. I tidied up my bedroom desk and even reorganized my white board decorations. I refilled my medication. I posted on lex to find queer pen pals. I video chatted with best friend and later my aunt while eating matzah pizza (which my best friend smartly described as a “religious depression meal”). I video chatted with my girlfriend again. 

I didn’t go for a walk today. I didn’t work on the website for my job. I didn’t exercise or stretch. I didn’t finish all the dishes. I didn’t play music. I didn’t paint, make art or do any hobby. I don’t even think I submitted my time-card. I’m trying to tell myself that it’s okay––that I’m doing my best and will continue to grow in the ways and times that I’m able. 

I don’t know what’s happening soon. I don’t know how I can make it. but I owe it to my cats to try.

[apiscespandemic]

entry 1 night 29:

well this is shitty. so let’s journal about it.

today (or yesterday?) marked week 4 of being a shut-in during the coronavirus pandemic by myself. let’s just skip over me explaining a whole laundry list of diagnoses and context and just say that I’m not in a good position mentally, physically, spiritually or communally during all of this. I know I have a lot to be thankful for. I’m in my home, I have a therapist, a (mostly) caring family, two amazing cats, food, savings, internet, medication. I know I’m in a fairly privileged situation. so I guess I’ve been doing okay aside from the... you know, everything else. 

I understand and value that part of my nature is to feel things very intensely. right now, these feelings are just so hard to contain, too much to share with friends, and too constant to encapsulate with a therapist. in the past, I’ve shared these types of thoughts in encrypted poems, songs, paintings, and other mediums. but this feel so unwieldy... how could I possibly try to encrypt it into art right now?

I’m doing my best, but I’m afraid. I want to ask for help, but there’s no one to ask. I want to be close to someone right now, but I’m alone. this is a hard time. this is traumatic. this isn’t ending any time soon. and I don’t know how much longer I can handle it.

this blog will be anonymous so I can feel honest, yet public so I can feel accountable. I just needed a place to get this out there.