i'm in my covid era
and what it's given me is some relief
In a way, I never thought I’d say it, but last week, I tested positive for Covid for the first time in its 3-year reign over our lives. Since 2020, I’ve been an obsessive hand sanitizer, a devoted vaccine cardholder, and a somewhat hopeful romantic about the whole situation. If it didn’t get me then, it almost certainly couldn’t get me now, right?
Ha. Of course not. It was bound to happen eventually.
It began with a cough that I shrugged off as allergies until my boss reported that she had tested positive and would be out for the rest of the week. Two days later, I watched as the two red lines made a quick appearance on the home test resting on my bathroom sink. I felt defeated. I wanted to cry.
But that first official day was mostly aches and pains. I delighted in how nice a warm bath felt on a rainy afternoon. I watched a few too many hours of reality TV that I save for moments like these. I made a little painting. I huddled under a blanket held tight by my napping lap cat. I brought my 2-year-old Rose of Jericho back to life (a symbol of cleansing and resurrection). I indulged in some greasy Friday night pizza after a days’ worth of not wanting to eat. This isn’t so bad, I thought. Surely it will be gone by Sunday.
Ha. Of course not. It was bound to get worse eventually.
And it did, but mostly just in its endurance. I’ve been lucky that this has mostly felt like a prolonged nasty cold. Incessant coughing. A stuffy nose. A pressure headache. Lots of time to lounge around and feel pathetic and paranoid about whether my loss of smell is permanent or simply a side effect of the very stuffy nose. (update: all is well)
I’m an anxious patient, restless to the point of assuming a sudden burst of energy that quickly ends with me looking for a place where I can sit down again. I feel confident that I truly am making my way out of it now, but the past few days have felt like a lifetime. Even so, in a weird way, I’ve found that I’m grateful.
Grateful for the chance to rest without guilt. Grateful for the fact that I’m relatively healthy and Covid isn’t a death sentence. Grateful for vaccines. Grateful for Wifi and books and notebooks and paint sets and ice cream. Grateful for sunny days and 30 acres of farm and 14 goats who I can let loose to run about my yard. Grateful for a creative mind that works and wants to work, even when it doesn’t feel fully capable. Grateful for a caring husband. Grateful for the increasing ability to breathe with depth.
Grateful because all of this has come at an interesting time for me.
The last few weeks here in the Nashville area have felt like a cloud over all our heads. Crazy, deadly weather. Drag ban bills. Legislative threats on the LGBTQ+ community. A school shooting. Protests. The Tennessee Three. More protests I wish I could attend but can’t right now because #Covid. It’s nice to feel even an ounce of personal relief from all the weight, the drama, the bad news. I know that’s a selfish thing to say, but I believe it’s something we all deserve. Something we could all feel if our legislators would listen and take appropriate action. If we could all get out of our own heads and work towards a safer, more just society. If we were all able to take a step back from our busy, commanding lives and feel the rushing wave of calm, peace, and acceptance that every human deserves.
Maybe it’s my stuffy sick head, but it all makes sense to me.
In whatever ways we can get it, this world needs some relief.
Today, I sat out in the yard while I set the goats free and watched them nibble on weeds and vines. I ducked into the She Shed and grabbed a bag of beads sourced from an estate sale: large and wooden, floral and ceramic. Hippie jewelry. I strung them together from my spot on a bench, watching the creek, the trees, the animals. It felt new and fresh: this creation, this experience. It’s not the sort of thing I would do at any other time. But the last few days have granted me a sense of freedom, opportunities to create magic in small moments because what else is there to do?
In a way, it brings me back to the beginning, when we couldn’t leave our houses for 2 weeks at a time and everything felt quiet, secluded, and special - like we were open to listening and truly hearing - like we were working towards a greater good (in my wishful thinking). I may not have made it to the protests this week, but at least my rest presented me with the time and peace of mind to write a thoughtful email to my local representatives. I’m glad that, 3 years late, that’s just a small part of what this “covid era” could bring out in me.
If you’re looking for more information about what you can do - either in Tennessee or from wherever you are in this country - here are a few of the accounts I’ve been following to get more involved. Consider donating, writing an email, or simply educating yourself and sharing with others in the way that best utilizes your unique talents and sensibilities. I also encourage you to find accounts from your own community working for justice and goodness. Find a cause or an organization that speaks to you and amplify it. Go big. Start small. Do what you see fit. Just get involved and start listening - that’s what matters most.