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Rosy blue
This morning, aside from the “good morning” pictures from our daughter, I received a message from a two-streets-away neighbour. She said she’d been thinking of me and how I was doing “this morning”. To be honest, on the Queen’s Birthday I woke up a little bit down-in-the-dumps. My neighbour and I are somehow connected during this pandemic. Maybe it’s the front porch food drops or the drive-by “hellos”, or perhaps we’re just connected in some way we can’t define. We’re connected. I told her how I was feeling, this morning, and she offered a remedy. Apparently, sunshine is always the best answer. Sunshine is working for me, right now, even as the sky clouds over a little bit.
We all have those moments, don’t we? Those moments when the rose colour turns blue. Last week I was on top of the world, planning my County Pandemic Museum, trying not to think too much of what the future held by reflecting on the not-toodistant past. Today, I’m just trying to get a bit of a grip on the moment. The issues of mental healthiness may have cropped up, with regard to COVID-19, but we all hold that card close to our chests. It seems to be okay to joke about our growing Pandemic Paunch, posting pictures of our belly rolls and jelly rolls, but we shouldn’t talk about how our mental self is doing. Pandemic Blues. As advanced and as enlightened our society has become, we still shy away from mental health concerns. Speaking up about our mental health is right down there with “lady problems”. We joke about most aspects of our physical health but NEVER have a giggle about our mental wellbeing. The thing is, today, I’ve got the pandemic blues. I feel like my whole world has become this little plot of land LOML and I purchased 34 years ago. It’s a small world for me today. Oh, I do venture into the great beyond, once in a while. LOML and I walk the Trail with our masks tucked into our pockets, just in case. Sometimes we cycle on the Trail. Once each week we split the shopping list, one goes to the pharmacy and the other to the grocery. Each of us return to our home planet with our parcels. Each of us excited to speak of the world beyond our surveyed slice of earth. What was once mundane has now become extraordinary. “Some woman walked in the wrong direction at Sobey’s. It’s not as if the arrows aren’t right there on the floor.” Or, “The fellow in front of me at Rexall obviously didn’t understand the distancing footprints on the floor. Can you believe it? How does he manage in life when he can’t stay six feet away from me!” And, “I saw a person at the meat counter who was wearing a mask, but his nose wasn’t covered.”
I find I’ve begun to retreat more and more into my own little world of reading, cleaning, painting, hiking and occasionally popping up to cook a meal or bake a loaf of Pandemic Bread. I often check the social media feed. Maybe too often. When I do have an opportunity to shout/chat with someone, my good words are gone. I’ve got all of the emotions, but the words have just about disappeared. Has it really been so long since I had a face-toface conversation with someone other than LOML? By the way, he and I have been together for so long we really do “complete each other”. That is to say, when one of us fumbles around for a word, on our planet, the other jumps in to complete the thought. How will we manage post-pandemic? Will there be rehabilitation available to address our (I’m struggling for the word) “atrophied” communication abilities? Will we ever shake hands again? Will we ever hug a friend again? Will we ever be able to use public transportation without weeks of coaching, urging and preparation? Will we ever, again, stand in a line and be close enough to touch the person ahead of us?
As it is, right now, I find I’m shocked when I’m watching television and I see an actor get close to another actor. The Folger’s commercial, with father-in-law Steve and the whole family in the bathroom gives me the creeps in two ways. It’s a nanosecond of fear and dread, but it happens more and more often. I’m not ready for this “opening” of Ontario. Oh, I’ve got the sanitizer and the mask, but my shaky emotional maturity is ebbing. My mouth goes dry when I think about Ontario’s “debut”. Maybe I should order a corsage and dig up a special outfit. Something to complement the paleness of my personal protective wear.
I’m just not ready.
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