Isolation, day 26

Since the world is going through this with me, I suspect that my blog will serve mostly as my own reminders of my experiences of 2020, but if you're reading this, I hope it makes you feel less alone - or I hope you'll respond, and make ME feel less alone!

Because alone is getting lonely.

I am a PollyAnna. I have turned my lemons into lemonade more times than I can count. When my family didn't support my post high school education, I found a way to feel like a badass by putting myself through school, proving to myself and the world that I could do it. When I got cancer, I fought long and hard and never gave up, making huge sacrifices in my health to do years of treatment so that I could have a future, and once again, I felt like a badass. When I got divorced, the same thing: I decided that no matter what my feelings about the marriage, I would treat my daughter's father with dignity and I would include him in our lives, and I would set aside my fear and reclaim my career to create an independent and lovely life. Once again, doing so made me feel like a badass.

The difference between then and now is that I have always found a tribe of people to go through hard times with. I'm famous in my circle of friends for inviting people over and feeding them: in the summer, after a day of hiking or hanging out on a beach or just doing chores, I'll text friends to pop in and bring something to share (or not). I have a little table and chairs positioned in a shady spot in my back yard, and I'll cover it with delicious selections (cheese and crackers, fruit, a home made eggplant dip, a tomato tarte, smoked salmon, hummus and veggies, heated Trader Joe's items like spanokopita) and cucumber mint water, sparkling water, and lots of wine. Or I'll host an impromptu BBQ with grilled veggies and chicken, and my friends will bring salads and desserts. Sometimes it's just one friend who drops in, and I'll make a pot of coffee or tea, or open a bottle of wine. We'll sit on the front porch, or in my living room, or at the kitchen table (the cozy little one by the window where the light streams in) and talk about everything and nothing. On summer evenings, my porch swing is in the shade. On spring days, my porch swing is almost touched by the lilac tree that grows in the side yard, and when we sit out there the motion of the swing releases sweet scents.

Sometimes I'll sit on the porch swing alone, but neighbors passing by will wave as they pass by, exchanging a few words, or sometimes they'll join me.

On the weekends, my friend Michele and I often do the five mile Lincoln Park loop, chatting merrily about our lives, solving the world's problems, playing with ideas, and just enjoying the bits of nature we encounter. Sometimes she'll come in afterwards and we'll have a coffee or a snack or lunch, and we'll sit on my sofas, caught up in the moment of discussion until the minutes or hours slip away.

On weekdays, my colleague-friend Mai will invite me to walk the track at lunch with her. How I regret every time I said "not today, I need to get something done at lunch" now! My colleague-friend Jeannette has the classroom across the hall from me, and we talk about our kids (the ones that belong to us, as well as the kids at school) and funny stories about our days and our struggles, and we support each other. How I miss those snippets of conversations!

Those simple memories are the ones I ache for now. When will I get to sit in a room with another adult?

Reminiscing about it is wonderful and heartbreaking. These are my simple pleasures, and I miss them more than I can say. There are bigger things, too - hiking in national forests an hour or two from here, going to work with my wonderful colleagues, going downtown for a variety of activities, shopping the farmer's market (which I usually do alone, but I always run into people I know for great conversations) and so much more.

I miss the sounds of a basement with a handful of teenagers laughing and teasing one another and watching movies and eating what I tease is "disgusting" food (Hot Cheetos, Dominoes Pizza, chicken nuggets, sour gummy worms, etc.) but which I buy them anyway because I think it's awesome that they want to hang out at my house, where I know they're safe and having fun.

So, this is what isolation is like. I'm noticing all of the simplest things, feeling their absence with grief, loss, and some fear. When will we be able to indulge in the simple pleasure of walking to Husky Deli at 7pm on a summer evening, stretching our legs and bringing our dog, to stand on the sidewalk out front of the deli, enjoying their ice cream and chatting with friends and neighbors?

Here are other observations about self isolation:

Wearing sweatpants all the time - I ordered two new pairs from Amazon because I only had one pair - actually doesn't make me feel better. It makes me feel like I must be sick, indoors and wearing sweats. Today I put on a sundress with a light cardigan, just to feel less blah. I'll wear them sometimes, but wearing them all the time doesn't help.

I look forward to even the smallest amount of social interaction. We're at the height of it in America right now, so we've been advised to limit ALL interaction, including trips to the grocery store. I was able to go about 11 days between grocery trips last time, and this time my plan is to make it 2+ weeks, so on Sunday when I went to Trader Joe's I knew it would be my only foray into the world for two or more weeks. Chatting with the check out clerks was a treat and a privilege, one that I normally wouldn't think twice about. Last night, we drove to Alki to see the pink supermoon over the city, and stopped at Habit Burgers to get take-out, and it felt like a much more luxurious experience than a drive through!

We wear face masks every time we leave the house. I ordered several from Etsy, where they are getting harder to find and more expensive by the minute. At first I thought I only needed one, but I like to go outside every day to get sunshine (or rain, for that matter) and exercise, and every time I wear it the moisture of my breathing makes it disgusting, so they have to be washed regularly. I ordered Tessa and I a few more - if we're going to be wearing these for months, we will have a small selection of styles, but more importantly, we will have no excuse not to wear them. (Not wearing something that is filled with moist air expelled from our noses and mouths is also a bonus.)

When I'm doing errands, a face mask is no big deal. But when I run, it makes me feel like I have no air all - I had to rip it off my face to gasp for breath. I bring it with me to exercise now, but only put it on if I'm too close to others.

When I'm in public, I have a hard time trusting anyone without a face mask now. They say that we can be asymptomatic for somewhere between six and fourteen days (I've seen conflicting information), and that when we breathe, cough, or sneeze the droplets from our breath can stay in the air somewhere between a half hour and two hours; when we cough or sneeze, six feet away isn't nearly far enough. So, anyone without a mask is someone I'm leery of, because maybe they're not paying attention, maybe they don't care, maybe they don't take social distancing seriously. (Or maybe they just can't get their hands on a mask, because of the shortages.)

But mostly I'm not in public.

Mostly, I am at home. I'm working - for which I am ever so grateful - teaching students from my computer, in my home office in the daylight basement. The office itself is a nice space, filled with the plants from my classroom (thank goodness I brought them home!), with windows on two walls, and a stand sit desk and swivel chair. I have a cozy chair and ottoman in the corner, perfect for reading or grading. I have WiFi, a working printer (with ink!), and everything I could use.

I find the time with my students a reprieve and a delight, but sitting at my desk doing the other work - meetings, grading, lesson planning - is twice as difficult as it used to be. It reminds me of my isolation. My lovely office, with no distractions, pretty soft blue walls and the white painted wood furniture that I picked out, the art, the candles, the plants, the necessary supplies, eases my grief but comes nowhere near to erasing it.

It's a struggle.

But not as much as it is for my lovely daughter, who is 17 and so removed from every part of the life she craves: friends, favorite teachers, independence, time away from home so that she can enjoy it when she returns. I ache for her losses. She's taking a class she's been excited about - forensics - since before she started high school, and she feels like she's losing out. She has a favorite teacher or two that she really admires, and she's missing them. I feel her yearning, and her loss. She'll never get to do over her junior year again, and she is missing so much and feeling the pain.

But here we are. We are diligent about our social distancing, determined to do our small part. And make no mistake, for all of my moaning here, I know how lucky I am. As a matter of fact, I feel guilty about having these feelings of loss, because so many others have lost so much more than I have! I have a job, and therefore income, so I'm not worried about paying the mortgage or feeding myself. I am healthy, and not in a high risk group. I do not live in a tiny apartment, but in a home with space for us to have our own spaces, and a yard where we can sit outdoors with no concern about strangers (or friends for that matter) breathing on us. We can work/do school from home, with all the technology we need.

We are the lucky ones. And it's hard if you're lucky, like us, so it's even harder for those who worry about food, have no internet, don't have a job anymore. It's hard for the parents of little kids, who are trying to work while entertaining a toddler. It's hard for people in abusive relationships, trapped with their abusers. It's hard for little kids who simply don't understand what's happening. It's hard for elderly folks who feel even more isolated. It's hard. So hard.

But there are joys, too. I can breathe, because I'm not rushing. Tessa and I have played board games, and made jewelry together. She's sharing funny TikTok's with me. We look forward to watching shows together (our shared favorite: Zoe's Extraordinary Playlist) in the evenings. I'm exercising more (though not nearly enough!) outside, and doing basement yoga. (Well, yoga is on pause, because Chance ate my yoga mat! He shredded it to smithereens. I think he did it because I kept trying to make him go away last time I did yoga and he wanted to "participate" in unhelpful, un-zen-like ways, and so he took out his frustration at being excluded on the mat. Funny dog! The new one was ordered over a week ago, and is set to arrive on Saturday.)

I'm reading. I'm writing. The house is decorated for Easter, and we're planning an Easter brunch in our Easter clothes (sundresses), even though it's just the two of us. Tessa wants bacon, I want blueberry lemon tea bread, and we'll figure out something for the main dish (quiche? fritatta? eggs benedict?). I'm trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, and enjoying a special meal at Easter is part of that. We bought Easter candy that's tucked away until Sunday, and the table has the funny little Easter Tree that I bought when Tessa was little (she'd redecorate it over and over and over, moving the little eggs around the small branches a hundred times in a row) and the pastel Easter egg dishes. It's a small ritual to bring it out, but it feels like a tiny drop of normalcy in a sea of uncertainty.

There are walks by the sea. There are calls with friends. There's good food. There's Netflix, Hulu, and good books in quantity (including some dropped off on my porch by the local bookstore the same day I ordered them - talk about great service, Pegasus Books!).

I'll get through. This, too, shall pass.

Other strange observations:

We are using soap in incredible quantities, matched only by our use of hand lotion. Tessa's prone to dry skin, and her hands are cracking and bleeding; mine are merely itchy and dry.

The dog has gotten quite used to this. Chance is going to struggle when we go back to work!

I'm still losing weight - down another pound this week on Weight Watchers. Woo hoo! If I hadn't joined WW and committed to losing weight before this, I'm pretty sure I'd be up 10 pounds by now. My weight loss is slower than before isolation because I've enjoyed some brownies and two different burgers, but I don't feel bad about it. I'm still losing, my BMI is back in healthy range, my clothes look and fit better on me, and I'm thrilled by it. I'm really embracing the "it's a lifestyle, not a diet" philosophy of WW, and I think I can do this for the rest of my life.

Tessa and I are getting on better than I could have hoped. I am SO GRATEFUL for that. She's upstairs learning sign language from an online video at the moment, and that makes me happy.

I had to rejoin Amazon - having some new things arrive has been helpful. Tessa and I are making jewelry from supplies we purchased; my new yoga mat is from Amazon; I even ordered new underwear because the first clothing that was too big was my stretched-out underwear!

The world is quiet, and I like that. I can't hear cars, trains, or loud noises in the distance. They say wildlife is creeping back in, and I love that vision.

I have only driven my car a few miles in several weeks; I can't remember the last time I got gas.

It could be a lot worse.

How long?

Day 18 in social isolation/voluntary quarantine/stay at home/ stay-home-stay-safe.

How long is this going to last?

When school shut down, they declared things closed until April 27.

The President is now saying that the social distancing needs to go through April 30.

Arizona schools just closed through the end of the year.

Our superintendent (OSPI's Reykdal) has mentioned "into the fall" several times.

I'm waiting for new news today, as they have announced that Trump is going to release the COVID-19 infection and fatality predictions. With that, I anticipate learning more about when this might stop. But I fear that none of the predictions or shut-downs so far is the truth, and that truth is that this could go on for a very. long. time.

What is a very long time? A year? I don't even know.

What I know is this:

The best way to save live is for me to sit in my house, using WiFi for connection, eating good food, reading, doing crafts, watching movies, and working in my home office. I can go for walks or runs, do yoga (despite the fact that my dog just ate my yoga mat....yes, really). I can have virtual happy hours. I can garden. I can order things I need online (like a new yoga mat). I can go to the grocery store, wearing one of my new face masks from Etsy, once a week (or less).

This is hard. I don't like it. Sometimes I'm lonely, often I'm bored, even though there is plenty to do.

But I am incredibly lucky, and I am not going to squander my good fortune by risking getting sick or making others sick. If this lasts a month or a year, it's my job to take advantage of my good fortune and make the best of it.

But how?

Isolation, day 17

Since I came home from work on March 13, I've gone to the grocery store twice, and that's basically the only time I've had any face to face contact with anyone besides Tessa.

This is surreal.

If you're reading this close to the time I'm writing it, I don't have to tell you what it's like, because everyone around me is living it, too. The streets are relatively empty, as people have gone inside their homes and only come out for necessities. The neighborhood is quiet: children aren't playing together, cars are parked and still. Dogs everywhere are rejoicing because their owners are taking them on countless walks, both for exercise and to relieve boredom. Today it has been intermittantly hailing, and the idea of going outside seems somewhat torturous: even bouncy Chance is asleep on his dog bed, curled up and cozy on a blustery day.

Being trapped in a house with only a 17 year old is not for the faint of heart. Tessa is, like every teen, hard wired to seek independence, to connect with her peers, to need her space from her mother. Instead, she and I have only one another for comfort and companionship. Already the phone is a dull substitute for companionship. All day we meet in Teams and Zoom to get our work done, and though I crave the company of adults, and the phone is a gift for which I'm grateful, I am afraid that its constant buzzing is enough to make me crazy.

But I still feel incredibly lucky, even when I'm stir crazy. I'm healthy, Tessa's healthy. I'm so grateful that we have this house, with two floors so that we can each take over a space without getting in each other's way (some of the time, anyway). I'm forever grateful that I was a Girl Guide, so when I run out of batteries, or shampoo, or sugar, or paper towels, there is a spare waiting for me. I'm grateful that I'm employed, not worrying about the mortgage. I'm grateful for Wifi, Hulu, and Netflix. I'm grateful that I got Tessa a Chromebook for Christmas, so she has all the resources she needs for school. I'm grateful for my home office. I'm grateful for my lovely little community, surrounded by water, so that I can go on a walk with views of mountains, cherry blossoms, waves, and sometimes even marine life like seal pups, sea lions, blue herons, bald eagles.

I'm struggling to find my groove, hearing about others' lists of accomplishments, and how they are merrily hosting online happy hours on Zoom. (I'm actually having my first online happy hour on Zoom today.) I don't feel so organized... but I'm trying. I'm journaling, cooking, exercising (most days), eating healthy food (and losing weight - down 17 pounds!), finding connection with Tessa. I could be doing worse.

It's not normal to live like this. We're hard wired to crave connection, and I feel the losses, large and small. They closed the parks, so I can't do my normal solitary act of hiking. Museums, movie theaters, all closed. The plays and concerts are canceled, the shops are closed, the restaurants closed. We are discouraged from walking Alki on a warm day - too many people. Some beaches are closed.

So here we are, holed up at home. I'm adjusting, but I'm not adjusted.

Staying Home

I have not left my home except to exercise (walking/running) in over a week. I went grocery shopping last Saturday, and since then, I've been homebound. I've worked six days out of my basement office. I've cooked and cooked and cooked. I've obsessed over every news article (and they come fast and furious). I thought I was finally feeling settled, like "okay, I've got this" and then:

1. Stay at home order. Why the governor's new law that people in my state need to do exactly what I'm already doing should make me feel weirdly claustrophobic is beyond me, but, well, it did.

combined with

2. The West Seattle Bridge is, suddenly and with only a few hours notice, closed for the next few weeks. Apparently it is in dire need of repair (I suddenly have visions of it crumbling to the ground), and it is going to take them several weeks to come up with a plan, and several months to fix it. Who cares? Every resident of West Seattle. It is our literal bridge to the rest of the community: I take it to go downtown, to go to work, to go....just about everywhere. Apparently it is the most traveled road in Seattle, and now it's closed indefinitely.

It's all too much.

But: we can do hard things.

I'm reminding myself that it's possible I won't have to commute to work for months (first because of coronavirus, then because of summer vacation), so I might be okay. If the city ever re-opens, I can take the water taxi.

And really, that's the least of anyone's problems right now.

Tessa and I ordered jewelry making supplies from Amazon, and we have a new hobby. I'm getting daily exercise outdoors with my dog. I'm able to continue my work with students - work that is meaningful to me - to discuss literature, prep them for the AP test, and support them through their struggles. I signed up to be a part of a UW study about mental health in this coronavirus craziness, so I'm helping science ever so slightly. I'm still doing Weight Watchers, and although the last week or so has been a plateau, I have faith in the system and I am SO grateful to be down 15+ pounds, and I'm fantasizing about going back to work (or anywhere!) and having people say "WOW you look great." (I did Weight Watchers so that I could get my cholesterol under control, but watching my waist get smaller and my face slim down is really quite fun.)

I'm going a little stir crazy, and yet I have unread books, Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime. Our home is filled with music. (Oh - the record player broke; it no longer turns. Whyyyy?) Our pantry is stocked, and we have enough TP for now. (No, we didn't hoard. And for what it's worth, I bought my extra two weeks before everyone else bought theirs.) I have a paying job working from home. We are healthy. We are not high risk.

So this should be easy, right?

It's not easy.

But here we go, easy or not, and we'll make the most of it.

Surviving Self Isolation

Today is day five of our self imposed self isolation. Tessa and I are staying at home for the foreseeable future, leaving only for groceries (just me, once a week or less), outdoor exercise with continued social distancing (six feet or more away from people). Tessa's still visiting her dad on schedule, but I figure that doesn't really count because if we were still together we'd all be in the same house anyway, and he's part of her nuclear family.

My work is helping to keep me sane. Knowing that my kids are having some of the same experiences that I am, and that they are less well equipped to manage their feelings (after all, teenagers!), I take my responsibility to be a voice of comfort, reason, factual information, and support very seriously. I've been compiling resources to share out in my classes' OneNote - everything from poetry, to where to get factual coronavirus information, to school closure information (I want them to have facts, not Snapchat rumors), and so on.

Tessa, who doesn't love school, actually did some school work yesterday and got into it. Hallelujah!

But work and school work only take part of the day. Here's how we're managing:

1. Scheduled appointments on the phone/Skype/Facetime/Teams with friends and colleagues. We may be socially isolating, but we do not need to be socially isolated.

2. Regular outdoor exercise. Thankfully, this week Seattle is sunny, clear, and gorgeous. Regular trips to the beach are good for body and soul.

3. Great food. Since we're all stocked up, we can eat delicious things, with a focus on health. We're spending more time in the kitchen than usual, taking some pleasure in making interesting food. We're mixing up our flavor profiles, getting our greens. We even did a St. Patrick's day feast of corned beef and cabbage; I baked an apple pie.

4. Journaling. Staying on top of my feelings helps me to process, and I feel so much better when I do that.

5. Creating space for fun activities. I'd love to hear from you how you're handling fun - so strange to only do fun with the people you live with, and only at home!

     a) New workout routines. Tessa is going to share her ab workout today. I know it's going to hurt but I hope it hurts so good!

     b) I resubscribed to Amazon Prime, and my first order was some art supplies. Tessa and I are going to make jewelry together, and we're each going to make a painting to hang in the guest room. (I plan to paint a sunset. I figure that the colors will be pretty even if nobody can tell what it is!)

     c) Board games. Tessa and I have discovered Mancala. I think it might be time to pull out the backgammon, chess, and other games, too.

     d) Sending snail mail to friends. Nobody ever does this anymore, so receiving a card in the mail is such a treat. I have a goal to send one note a day to someone I care about. I picked up a bunch of cards at Trader Joe's - some are pretty, some are silly - and I'll send these throughout.

    e) I think it's time for me to write my book. Stay tuned.

Of course there's always Netflix, stacks of good books, and more.

What are you doing in these strange days? How are you handling your routines, your mental health, your fun, your socialization? What tips do you have for me? I'd love to hear from you!

xoxo
Kristina

More real by the minute

Tessa and I have been socially isolated in a self-imposed quarantine since Sunday.

Saturday seems like it was a million years ago.

We have not yet found the rhythm of our days. My mind is racing with the drumbeat of coronavirus, like a chant that never stops. My computer and phone keep buzzing with the latest news of the latest shutdowns, closures, changed plans, cancellations, warnings, layoffs.

Was it really only two weeks ago that I felt silly buying extra groceries? I don't feel so silly now. I bought extra TP then and tucked it into a cupboard, and now TP is impossible to get. (Amazon Fresh isn't delivering. The grocery stores are always out. The online grocery delivery has no toilet paper available, and they keep delaying my delivery days out.)

I need to do an attitude reset.

I've been obsessing about this, fearful, watching the news non-stop, with updates distracting me from the business of living. No more.

Whatever happens will happen, whether I'm obsessing about it or not. It's time for me to take some deep breaths, and dive into a new routine in my life.

It's time for me to take some control. I left school at about 4pm Friday, five days ago, and five days of spinning is doing me no good at all. RESET!

I want to be a center of positivity in my own life, as well as others. Tessa follows my guidance. I have the opportunity to help others -my students, neighbors, friends - by modeling healthy behaviors.

I'll come back to this; right now I'm going to make a plan.

It's time to get real about this being my new life for a while, and to make it the best life I can.

Here we go!

Settling in

This weekend the news keeps coming: everything is closing. There are rumblings of shutting down travel in and out of our state. The airport is empty. Every few minutes I get an email from another company telling us of their COVID-19 plans; I keep hearing about shut downs. Starbucks, REI...just about everyone. I went out to refresh my supplies (we ate most of our fresh stuff, as we do each week) and the stores were erratically stocked: some aisles were empty, others full.

Seattle has a great deal of the nation's cases. I'm following the numbers on The Seattle Times, as they are doing a daily update:
https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/health/coronavirus-daily-news-updates-march-15-what-to-know-today-about-covid-19-in-the-seattle-area-washington-state-and-the-nation/

Washington State has 769 cases confirmed today, although testing is still only available for medically urgent cases still. There are predictions that there are actually more like 20,000 cases right now in the US.

I am carefully watching what is happening in Italy, Spain, and France, because I think we're tracking them, both in terms of our numbers and in terms of government intervention. This morning I had a conversation with friends about restaurants and bars shutting down, but I thought it was weeks away; just minutes ago I read that the governor is closing all restaurants and bars starting tomorrow. Gatherings of 50 people or more are prohibited; gatherings of fewer than 50 people are also prohibited if they can't

Strange times.

As for my daughter and I, we are hunkering down (as Fauci said). She went out with a friend yesterday to a movie, and I regret it. The theater only sold 50% of tickets to allow for social distancing; I warned her not to share food like popcorn (they had to get their own), and I sent her with hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes so she could wipe down her seat...and right as she left, they announced that movie theaters might get shut down. But perhaps it's good she went, because along with bars and restaurants the article I just read said that "entertainment venues" are being shut down as well. "Fitness clubs" - we belong to the Y - are closing for two weeks.

Hunker down indeed.

I did my last grocery trip for a while; we have groceries to last at least two weeks, and I do not plan to enter a store for a minimum of one week. I had left Amazon behind a few months ago, but I signed up for Prime again: I can get dog food, groceries, and anything else we need delivered to my front door.

Hunkered down.

Tomorrow morning I'll go to work by taking my coffee into my office in the basement, and I'll come up with a list of things I need to accomplish by next Monday, when the kids join us online.

I'll take the dog on long walks. I'll drink gallons of tea, watch Netflix, read books, play Mancala or other games with Tessa. We'll cook good food, we'll bake, we'll listen to music. At some point I'll do yard work. I could stand to do some yoga. Maybe I'll paint a bedroom.

But I think I'm going to really take social distancing seriously.

We're hunkering down.