I have been surprised about my own reactions. I am not a brave person. But I find I am not afraid I will catch the virus. I'm not afraid I will get sick and die. I very oddly feel like I'm just not destined for it. But I am afraid those near and dear to me might. and I worry very much that I might carry the virus and spread it to others, without ever having a symptom. I social distance. I wear gloves and a mask at the grocery store. I wash my hands obsessively. At night, my dreaming brain kicks into overdrive, where one loved one or another, or all of them, gets sick and dies. It's nearly always my fault. Before COVID, I rarely dreamed, or not ones I remembered.
There is guilt here as well. In my large house with a full freezer and pantry, and a yard to enjoy. In a job that easily shifted to remote work, with no interruption in pay or insurance. My husband already telecommuted full time. We have the luxury of face masks, delivery services, decent internet. We've got computers and backup computers. We have healthcare, 30 days of prescriptions. I pass the crowded bus stops, safe in my car. I try to remember to be grateful. It could easily be reversed. There are no guarantees in life. You can be hardworking, prepared, educated, be kind and decent and do all the right things, and still lose it all. None of it is a shield.
At the heart of fear is this -- no one wants to lose what they hold dear. Even the hardest heart grasps at something. It's another connection we have with each other. It's okay to be afraid, to sit with it and get to know it, and recognize it in others, and let others see our own. We can share our fears, and share our strengths. Hold hands against the dark.
