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.

Time to go home

Today, the staff at the high school where I teach met to discuss strategies for online learning.

And then we packed up everything we needed from our classrooms. I boxed up all of the plants I keep on the windowsill, grabbed all of the ungraded papers, took copies of books I hope to teach later this year. I put down the blinds, unplugged the electronics, turned off the lights, and left.

I headed home, where I will be camped out for the next six weeks.

Governor Inslee has closed all K-12 schools in Washington State until April 14, returning on the 27th. This is a reasonable response to the global pandemic; we need to practice social distancing in order to keep this disease from ravaging fragile groups. It is the right thing to do.

But leaving the classroom felt lonely. I can not predict the future, but I do not know when the end is in sight(and I fear that it will be much later than the end of April). I had barely adjusted to the idea of two weeks off in the middle of the school year when two weeks became six weeks, and I do not trust that things will go back to normal in six weeks: I can barely see a few days ahead with the fast pace of things. Things are happening fast and furious: restaurants are closing, sports have shut down, theaters are closing. THE LIBRARY is closed. The library! Community centers, farmer's markets, sports centers, and all kinds of businesses have closed.

Two weeks ago, I stocked up on a few extra bags of groceries and felt ridiculous for doing so. It doesn't seem ridiculous now, except that it seems really inadequate. Now stores are selling out their wares, and toilet paper is impossible to find; the only thing harder to find is hand sanitizer.

Which leads back to today, and turning off the lights in my classroom, and being very unsure of when I would be able to return with my students. It felt lonely. I thought of every kid who has confided their troubles to me, and how school can be a place to get support, to feel connected to community, and I worried for those kids. I thought of my wonderful colleagues, and how their intelligence and kindness and humor keeps me going on my bad days. I thought of the rhythm of my days, and how strange it will be to run that rhythm from inside my home all the time.

I thought about being at home with my daughter, alone, while the world outside shuts down. It felt lonely, sad, and surprisingly frightening.

***

I am one of the lucky ones. I know that.

I have that fridge full of food, and a pantry overflowing.

I have my warm house, filled with things like extra blankets and music and candles and books and board games and a TV with Netflix and Hulu.

I have an office to work in.

I have a funny dog who demands attention and exercise.

I have good health (hallelujah: after the cancer years, I do not take this for granted).

I have a 17 year old who is the light in my life: she's pretty self sufficient, helpful, and while she can be surly with the best of them, generally she's just an awesome person and fun to be around.

I have a continuing contract (the equivalent, I think, would be tenure) in a district that takes good care of me, and has excellent resources. My job is unlikely to disappear even in a global pandemic.

I know how lucky I am. But today, just this afternoon, I'm letting myself feel sad anyway, because these are sad times. People are going to die in numbers I can't quite imagine. People are going to lose their homes, their jobs, their food security. People who are living close to the edge will fall off; others will inch closer to the cliff's edge. This has barely started - remember, two weeks ago I looked like a fool for buying so much food - and yet it is happening left and right already.

This weekend, I'll set up my office to be ready as my new classroom. I'll move the plants from my classroom in, I'll tidy my papers, and I'll sit in the cozy chair in the corner grading, planning, and emailing.

It will be okay for me. I'll call my friends, send lots of texts back and forth. I'll go for long walks along the ocean. I'll see if I can lose even more weight (15 down, 15 to go!). I'll do yoga. I'll read for fun. Tessa and I will play board games. I'll watch Netflix and Hulu. I'll cook, and do house projects.

But not today.

Today, the weeks stretch out in front of me in a long question filled with fear and danger. Today, I'm sad, worrying about the state of my world and my students and how on earth I will be a good teacher through that computer screen.

Tomorrow is a new day.

In the heart of a pandemic

The world around me is changing so fast that I can barely catch up.

Two weeks ago, I stocked up on supplies for something that seemed a million miles away from me. The world was going on like it always does - work, chores, exercise, friends, homework, sunsets. The news is always bad, and the shrieks of "coronavirus! coronavirus!" made last week seem worse, but it still seemed like some far off thing.

A week ago, I had coronavirus symptoms and made call after call to get checked out, to no avail. It seemed a LOT more personal and real then. But then I got better, and, under my doctor's orders, I returned to week (72 hours after fever subsided).

And then on Wednesday, we got an announcement that my daughter's district was shutting down for "at least" two weeks. Next, an announcement at my school's staff meeting that we too were shutting down.

Today, the students came to school to get instructions about the plans, to turn in missing work, to have one last day before "vacation." And then, towards the end of the school day, the rumors started flying, soon confirmed, that Governor Jay Inslee of Washington State had closed all K-12 schools until April 24th.

When the kids were told that they had two weeks off, there were audible cheers. When we told them they wouldn't be back until almost the beginning of May, they were stunned and quiet.

This feels more real than when I got sick.

My daughter and I are home together, wondering what this will be like. I've read articles about social distancing - what does it REALLY mean? Does it mean we stay in our house, just the two of us, leaving only for groceries and dog walks? Or can we have visits with one or two friends?

In the midst of this, the news keeps happening. Courthouses closing; trials delayed due to lack of jurors, Restaurants of some acclaim - like those owned by Tom Douglass - closing until this passes because of lack of business. Libraries and community centers closing due to the risks of infection. We are being begged not to go to the ER because hospitals will be over capacity. My local Trader Joe's was cleaned out (I read it in the Seattle Times; I didn't go there today).

The toilet paper memes don't seem so funny at the moment. How long are we going to be down and out? What will happen to the employees of so many businesses that have been sent home? What will happen to the local small businesses with no employees, no customers? The news is filled with information about homeless shelters, evictions, children who won't have access to school breakfast and lunch the way they usually do. (Seattle Schools has set up 25 sites for those free meals. I wonder how the children will get there. My district across the lake has set up 2 sites. Is it enough?)

Those who were down on their luck are much more so now.

The para-educators and not certificated staff in my building are paid hourly. With school closed, their future is uncertain. What will they do?

If this goes long term, will my paychecks remain regular? I have a contract, but what are the rules for this kind of natural disaster?

Reykdal (the superintendent of OSPI, the governing body of all schools) made comments that this could go into fall. Fall? Really?

A couple of weeks ago, I saw this as enough of a possibility to go grocery shopping and get more than usual, but I felt silly doing so. I've eaten some of it since then, and replenished some of it.

Now I'm wondering if I bought enough.

***

Light moments (because there are always light moments, even in darkness):

My daughter required me to purchase back-up brownie mix. Because in an emergency, we must have brownie access!

I'm kind of excited at the idea of getting regular outdoor exercise during daylight hours. It seems like this is a good time to build new habits, and now that I've lost 15 pounds on Weight Watchers but I'm not sick, I'm more than ready. The dog is ecstatic at this idea.

I'm going to catch up on my grading at last!

***

There are pockets of light, but no joke, this is scary and feels unreasonable and uncontrolled and unsteady and unacceptable.

And I'm one of the lucky ones, in my warm and safe home, surrounded by friends in the neighborhood, with my health, my secure job, my pantry overstocked with food. If I'm scared, I know that others are quaking.

Be healthy, everyone. Be well. I send my love. We'll get through this, even when it's rocky. Somehow!