Little Things and Hard Choices
I’m writing this post from a friend’s couch as we sit a carefully-measured six feet apart, her large dog nosing his way into my lap, shoving the keyboard aside until I make room for him.
It’s the happiest I’ve felt in days - I can actually smile without thinking about it, because I have a hard time not to when this dog is doing his darndest to shove his face in my face and cover me with kisses. It’s not the most sanitary thing in the world, even though my friend and I are both currently healthy. But it’s also completely necessary.
In the week since my last post, it feels like the world I’ve known for so long has completely collapsed. Some people say it’s the end of the world, while others continue to go out and live their lives like nothing’s wrong. I’m somewhere in the middle, and I’m having a very hard time staying positive.
The constant change of the situation, including cancellations of events, closing of restaurants and bars, is terrifying. I hate the way it’s impossible to go about my day without seeing the terrifying headlines and hearing horror stories about everything from illness and death to how many stores it’s taking my friends to find toilet paper.
Earlier in the week, I tried isolating myself as best as I could, but I soon realized that this felt like the situation when I was in the hospital, when physical health was prioritized 100% over mental health. I’ve learned since then that I can’t live like that, but in this completely unprecedented situation, it’s hard to figure out what I can do to alleviate loneliness and boredom.
I’m working from home now (or from a friend’s house, today, as the dog has started to snore by my side), so it can be easy to get through a whole day without seeing a human face. It sounded almost like a vacation at first, lots of time to play video games and catch up on books and TV shows, but it’s already started to feel like prison.
And so, I’ve decided to rent a car tomorrow and try to make it home to my family’s house. They’re many states away, but their state isn’t quite as bad as Illinois is right now, plus I can have company of people I love (and my sweet dog, who I think about as I stroke my friend’s dog) to keep my head out of its worst places.
This wasn’t a decision I made lightly. I do hope to come back in a few weeks when - hopefully - everything will be heading back to the way it was before, but as someone who can get sucked into the worrying-about-germs (and the fate of the world) spiral all too easily, it’s so much easier to not have to fight this war alone.
The decision has made me feel weak (for not being able to do what so many people around the city, country, and world are doing) and strong (for knowing my limits and doing something to help myself that won’t harm others). I’ll quarantine when I get home, especially from Nana, who I won’t see for a minimum of 14 days just to be sure. And I’ll try to be kind to myself, even when I feel like an utter failure for not being able to deal as well as my friends.
I tried to shove my mental well-being aside in the face of this crisis, but just like years ago, I can’t. Mental health has to matter, even when it feels like it should be way, way down the list. It might mean that my considerations and plans look different from my friends’, and that I have to make some hard choices about how to get through this.
To everyone out there reading this, I hope that you’re practicing self-care in a variety of ways. Try to find ways to move, even if it’s just pacing around your apartment or house. Try to do little things like watching a funny movie to get you out of a slump. Every victory matters, from the biggest to the smallest, and when we get through this, I hope we can all see how much stronger we are after the physical and mental challenges ahead.
Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.