I’m sure you, dear reader, need another “this is my life during the Corona quarantine” like a fish needs a bicycle. Which is why this is not one of those. I’m also not here to make jokes about toilet paper.
What I am here to talk about is just how much the stress creeps up on you. I’ve mentioned before that I basically had a dry cough through March. That sounds worse than it actually was. I had a little bit of shortness of breath, but never anything that actually felt severe. It was mostly just annoying. I am unlikely to lose my job, at least not through the end of the year. I went through a couple of weeks there where I didn’t even leave the apartment. Technically I still don’t have to. I don’t have people in my close family with comorbidities for the plague.
What I’m saying is that I am extraordinarily privileged during this time. And yet.
And yet, I find myself being snappish and irritable, getting annoyed at every little thing that is not exactly as I want it to be. I’m getting most angry at myself because I’m not able to complete every unreasonable task I set myself in the time I gave myself to do it in. I don’t know how much of that is visible outside of this blog and to my most trusted people, because I don’t talk about it. I’m trying very hard to not share every article that makes me worry. I try not to engage with every facebook post where people are alternately calling for authoritarian rule here in Finland which has done pretty well, overall. I try to make sure that I mostly post things that make me laugh. And I hope to make others laugh.
But it gets to me.
I’ve had a nasty headache all day today. And I’m pretty sure it’s because these days, I seem to be tensing my shoulders, even when I sleep. So that’s a charming development.
My todo-list for today is long. I ran out of todo-boxes in my planner. It would probably be longer but for that. I’m not going to finish even half the things on it today.
Not one of the items on my todo list is to be kinder to myself. Having more realistic expectations is likewise missing. But I made a mask. So that’s probably something. Those two weeks I did not leave the apartment? That was because my cough was bad enough that I did not trust that I would be able to get out of the building without coughing and as a result possibly infecting someone else with whatever it is that I had. It’s two weeks too late, but at least I have a mask now. It’s a small victory but I’m trying to learn to take them.
How are you, dear reader, doing?
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