COVID-19

Some of us – either our for health reasons or simply because our risk tolerance levels are lower – are still limiting our behavior in significant ways. For example, I’m keeping on my N95 whenever I go inside public spaces and I’m not gathering with people indoors or even outdoors if there is not room to socially distance.

As my friends and peers are joining the movement to unmask and “get back to normal,” a lot comes up for me. I’m going to share about my experience because when I’m deeply grounded and spiritually connected, I know I’m not the only one feeling like this.

So, dear people who are “getting back to normal,” when you talk about getting together for meals, making travel plans, or even when you suggest that meetings might start happening in person, I feel like I don’t belong. I feel unseen and unheard. Disregarded. It hurts, and I feel lonely (not just alone). I question my own judgment, too, and that is distressing.

As you begin expanding your lives back out into the public and maskless sphere I would like to invite you to consider starting from the standpoint of someone who can’t (for whatever reason) do the same.

It would be so helpful if, instead of suggesting we hold these meetings in person, maybe start by acknowledging that not everyone is ready or able to meet in person. If you begin with that, then, to me, the suggestion to meet in person feels less alienating.

Having received several “let’s start meeting in person” suggestions and “masks optional” messages in the last week, I’m realizing how callous it feels. If those invitations were preceded by “I know some of us aren’t ready to meet in person/take off masks” they would sting just a little less.

Thanks for considering it.

There’s no reason I should have to explain to people why I behave the way I do when it comes to COVID-19 precautions, obviously. That said, there are a lot of times I want to explain them.

Most people I know are vaccinated, wear masks in crowded public spaces and/or indoors, and are generally led by the science that tells us about the layers of protection we need to keep ourselves and others safe. But, most people I know (not all, for sure, but most) have higher risk tolerance levels than I do. And I want to just write a little bit about my “why.”

Why am I not comfortable meeting people in person (unless it’s just two of us and we’ll be walking outside among the trees), going to my 12 step recovery group in person, attending Meeting for Worship in person, and other activities that might be slightly higher risk but generally speaking are not super-risky?

First of all, I’m still of the belief that if I *can* eliminate chances of picking up COVID-19 and passing it along to someone else, I should eliminate those chances. So, if there’s a risk I can skip, I skip it. But it’s not only about protecting other people.

Every day, I live with an autoimmune disorder (rheumatoid arthritis) that has a frustrating and often overwhelming range of symptoms; it is emotionally exhausting. My immune system is attacking healthy parts of me. Add to that gastrointestinal issues like diverticulosis and IBS, menopausal brain fog, continued recovery from a traumatic brain injury… my body hasn’t been all that dependable for me. That sucks. So, the prospect of “long COVID” — even if the odds of my getting it are miniscule — feels like the straw that would break this camel’s back. Another health issue with mind-fuckery as a symptom? No freakin’ thank you.

Then, add to that the fact that the pandemic has brought out my tendency towards anxiety. With a strong spiritual life I had been living in a place of relative peace and serenity regarding those things that I can’t control. It was lovely. Well… now I’m someone who if I get a little cough for a moment or two (despite having been essentially nowhere and knowing full well I’m allergic to cats and we have a cat so of course I deal with sinus/chest nonsense) I will worry. I will worry I have COVID-19. This worry does not have to be born of fact, but the worry will simmer under all I am doing even if it “shouldn’t.” Most of my immediate family has these tendencies, too. So, again, if I can eliminate a risk, I’m going to eliminate it.

Thanks for reading this. I’m not even sure why I’m posting it, but I keep wanting to explain why I’m not participating in even relatively safe activities that so many people have resumed. So, I’m getting the explanation out of my system. 🙂

How do I title these posts that are essentially train-of-thought? Today I’m writing the title based on some thoughts I had in the last couple hours and I’ll see what comes up as I write.

Ah-ha! My groceries are being delivered. I can see the helper bringing bags to the porch as I sit outside “working” (writing this post at the moment) in the sunshine. I love (and can currently afford) to tip really well. I am so grateful for the risks she just took for me!

If I was someone who bought stock, I’d buy stock in the company that sells computer domes. I love mine so much and I have been telling everyone about them. We’re all so tired of being on all these video calls, but if we can at least sit outside to do it? Tah-dah!

Topic change! On the bird feeder so far Ive seen one chickadee, one goldfinch, and many appearances of house and chipping sparrows. I haven’t walked with intentional birdwatching as the focus since I posted last. But I do know there’s a starling pair (I assume? though I only ever see one at a time) with babies in the gutter of our neighbor’s house. WOW. Those parents work hard!

Changing topic again! Talking with a White friend about the concept of White supremacy culture today was lovely. We were on a call for topics not obviously related to racism, but I shared with her how what I’ve learned about White supremacy culture has me stretching my concept of “how things are done.” Time, especially, as it loses and morphs meanings in this pandemic.

Relationships with BIPOC have had challenges for me and for my (very few, as is typical for so many of us White people) BIPOC friends. For me, anti-racism is sometimes just doing things differently than I have “always done them,” following the lead of other cultures, and learning as I go. I’m grateful to have a couple friendships deep enough to process the miscommunications and biases together when they come up.

I won’t speak for my friend and our private conversation, but she and I have also worked on finding the courage to speak honestly about racism. She comes from a much more conservative framework, and I’m grateful we’ve practice saying what we’re really thinking from a loving and non-judgmental place.

Listening is a bigger part of bird-watching than I knew until I started it. Now I hear bird calls and songs (I’m still not clear on how those differ) all the time. Some I now easily recognize. Most blend into each other like they used to always do. (I knew I’d find analogies or metaphors or teaching moments in bird watching and the rest of my life! Listening, hearing differently, is a big part of my anti-racism work.)

I’m tempted now to stop typing because this is getting long and I don’t want people to associate LONG READ with what I write, but I do want to get out a few more thoughts.

I’m not sure if I’ve written on here before about the fact that I have an autoimmune disorder? Well, I do. It’s most likely rheumatoid arthritis (that’s what I call it for the shorthand) or possibly psoriatic arthritis. Both diseases have similar prognoses and treatments, so which one it is doesn’t really matter. We caught it early, so I’m lucky.

But, living with this disease has been challenging on many levels. This past week I had what I now recognize as a “flare.” I think it was the worst one I’ve had (though my brain tends to minimize/forget previous pain so I can’t be sure). I was close to tears on and off throughout the day for a two or three days. If I stopped moving, starting to move again was excruciating (words fail). I was weak in ways I’ve never experienced — holding my coffee mug made my arm tired? Anyway, my rheumatologist is wonderful and accessible via the patient portal. I’ve started a short burst of prednisone and found relief almost immediately (within the first day).

The medications I take regularly to treat this disease impact my immune system. It’s not that I don’t have an immune system, my doctor assures me, but there is a pathway that isn’t there at the moment. A different pathway will be knocked out and the current pathway will be back up when I change medications in a week or so as part of our years-long exploration of what treats these symptoms best. (I did take Tr*mp’s favorite, Plaquenil (hydroxychloroquine), for a while but it didn’t resolve my issues.)

During this pandemic, having an even slightly compromised immune system adds to my daily awareness that we all need to look out for each other. You don’t know who might be high risk, so we need to assume everyone is. You don’t know for sure that you don’t have COVID-19 (so many are asymptomatic) so if you care about people other than yourself, you need to wear a mask. Please.

  • found a stamp in what seemed to be a geocache
  • when they’re sweet, they are so so so sweet
  • a treat from Amsterdam!
  • from our day in Greece
  • 11 and me, on a walk
  • Baby’s birthday (Baby is the pink bear)
  • still too wet and cold to plant

In the middle of March I thought I’d be posting here regularly. But, if you’re anything like me, you won’t be surprised to hear that I’m pretty tired of computer screens. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful we can connect with our loved ones via these digital pathways. But, ugh, a computer screen for *fun?* Hardly.

That said, I do want to check in now and again so here I am.

A few weeks ago I bought myself some binoculars and a bird feeder to hang outside our window. Both of these purchases are related to my newly forming interest in watching birds. It started a few summers ago, but it’s only this pandemic that’s got me slowed down enough to pursue it in earnest.

This week, I opened the box and brought out the binoculars. I tried them out when we were up in the mountains of Maine with very, very little success. Who would’ve thought it difficult to find birds?

It’s not, actually. It’s just that I was sitting there scanning the woods with the things instead of listening for the songs and calls and guiding my view there. I suspect many metaphors for life will come from this newfound interest. (Paying attention, focusing, slowing down.)

In probably less than an hour, total, or maybe closer to two, I’ve finally learned pretty well how to use the binoculars properly and have spotted some birds: grey catbirds, crows (who needs binoculars? but they are extraordinary close up!), chickadees, goldfinches, house sparrows, cardinals, and today I saw a pair of magnolia warblers! I’ve never seen those before in my whole 50 years, so that was a treat. I didn’t even know they lived around here? I’d never heard of them. Here’s a picture of what they look like, though I’m not going to delve into trying to get photos myself until I’ve gotten much, much better at simply spotting them.

Magnolia Warbler (Setophaga magnolia) (14023131977)
Magnolia Warbler (male)