The First Trip
A few days ago, I wrapped my dog’s yellow bandanna around my head, tied it as tightly as I could, and got in the car to go shopping for the first time since coming home.
I wish I could say that the bravery to work my way through this came from me, but it was only after significant prompting from my parents that I agreed to try. Just the idea made my palms sweat and my breath quicken, because I was about to confront, for the first time, my fear of the actual coronavirus.
Staying inside except for walking the dog (and staying well more than six feet away from everyone) was all I’d done for weeks. The idea of going into a building - a confined space where one person could cough and infect everyone - frightened me greatly, especially without a proper mask. From the second I got out of the car and noticed it was parked right next to another one, I felt aware of my breath and body like I haven’t in years - and not in a good way.
When I was little, I used to think that I could “filter” germs out by trying to breathe only through the gap between my front teeth, which was later fixed with braces. I used to think spitting out the side of my mouth would help, particularly if I was drinking from a water fountain I considered dirty. Germs were more than an everyday part of my life, and it took me years to get to the point where I wasn’t washing my hands constantly, holding my breath whenever I knew sick people were nearby, or staying away from people who had been sick even if they’d been better for weeks.
I hadn’t felt like that in years, but when the pandemic started, I felt it starting again. If I heard anyone cough, I didn’t yell like some of my coworkers did, but I did make a conscious effort to stay far away. On the last day my company was open, I asked my boss to work from home; others asked because they were taking care of children or other responsibilities, but I was asking because I knew I would be concentrating on the fact that my cubicle is in the hallway and many people walk by each day instead of, well, working. It was such an immense relief when she said yes that I promised myself I would stay inside to keep feeling the relief from that unwanted anxiety… but I can’t stay inside forever.
My state is mostly open now. It’s early, most people agree, but my parents have been going out for weeks and getting groceries and doing things the family needed, with me not contributing. It was time for me to help, but I needed some help in order to get it done.
When we got to the store, Dad gave me two missions: pick out some pretty flowers for the house, and find the apple cereal bars I like and bring back a few boxes. He was off in a flash as I watched the people milling around, only about half in masks, not lined up six feet away like they were by the outside of the store, but shopping close to each other like everything was completely normal.
The flowers were easiest to start with, both in terms of fewer people and the fact that it was right by the entrance. I didn’t have to go far to pick out a bouquet of red and yellow flowers that I’d never seen before, but they looked pretty, and picking them up gave me something to do with my hands even though I was now aware I’d touched something in the store.
I started trying to find Dad, pacing towards the bread aisle, going farther and farther back. Even if I still believed in any of my old strategies, I soon realized it would have been impossible to do them in such a tight space. Just like in a grocery store in ordinary times, people were passing each other in the same aisle, standing in the middle of aisles like roadblocks, and seemingly unaware of the germs that might have been in the air.
I ended up finding the cereal bars, but only after going on almost every aisle of the store. I could feel my breath hot against the bandanna, and I tried as much as I could to slow it and to look for ways to keep myself busy. Once I’d touched the flowers, I figured I could touch other things too, so I tried to help with the actual mission of getting groceries.
The line at the end was hard since it was so long and slow-moving, but finally, Dad and I made it outside. We took off our bandannas (he did his right away, but I waited until I was in the car), and as soon as I got home and washed my hands, I started to feel safe again.
Most people I know have been doing much more than one reluctant Trader Joe’s trip with a minimal number of purchased items. But for me, it was a huge step. I’m now trying to get a mask so I can feel a little more comfortable going out, and maybe soon I’ll even be able to do the trips solo, or stay in the store for longer than the absolute minimum amount of time.
This whole time, I’ve been very scared of everything happening in the world, disconcerted by the changes to how everything works, and alarmed at the news, but I didn’t realize when I was isolated at home that I was so afraid of the actual virus. It was an incredibly strange blast from the past, and even though it was easier to put aside my fears when I felt a stitch in my chest a few days later, I was still feeling germaphobic obsessive thoughts like I hadn’t in years.
I don’t know how I’m going to deal with everything opening, considering this. I’ll probably do something similar to this trip, but in greater numbers, and then see if I can gradually expose myself to things I’m more afraid of without exposing myself to the virus itself. It’s a tricky balance, but I’m going to do my best to be brave in the days ahead.
(Even with most things in the Chicago area still closed, I hope you all stay home and stay safe!)
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.