“They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.”
– Tom Bodett
I don’t even know how to muster up the energy or motivation for my coursework these last few weeks. I’ve been transparent about my mental health in my posts and the fact that I have panic disorder and severe anxiety. Lately I feel like my anxiety has been in overdrive due to this pandemic and it has been sucking the energy out of me. I don’t do much in self isolation besides think and somehow, I’m still left exhausted at the end of the day.
I feel like I’ve been brought down so much by these current events. I haven’t been back to Florida, where I’m from, since I moved to the UK in June of 2019. In January when my husband and I found out I was pregnant we knew that we had to book our flight for as soon as I was finished with my spring semester of university. And so I currently still have my flight booked for this Saturday. A flight that still has yet to be cancelled by the airline, but nonetheless one that I know I won’t be on. And so my first baby shower for next week is also cancelled. All the little things that I’ve been so hopeful and excited for in my times of stress and anxiety and loneliness in this country are all out of sight now. I won’t be able to fly back home until our baby is 6 months old, which won’t be until April 2021. The anxiety of my upcoming birth overwhelms me as I think of the possibility of this situation continuing on. I won’t be able to attend any birth or breastfeeding classes and so I’m left feeling even more unprepared as a first time mom. So many things taken from all of us so quickly. Life as we know it has changed dramatically.
And yet, I still consider myself one of the lucky ones. While many of us have to cope with the consequences of disruption to our daily life or the effects on our mental health, there are still so many who are in hospitals fighting for their lives. I’ve seen footage of refrigerated trucks being kept on the street outside of hospitals in New York that are lined with bodies in bags. People have lost their loved ones, without being able to say goodbye, without being able to have a funeral service. Just like that.
And so while I have my own issues that sometimes seem so large to me, I’m quickly humbled when I’m reminded of the reality of the situation.
I keep holding on to hope. The hope that even though this tunnel seems long and dark, that eventually there is an end to it and somewhere there’s a light, even if we can’t see it yet. This won’t be forever. Someday we will meet again. Someday we will be able to hug and kiss and touch our loved ones whom we may be separated from at the moment.
Almost one month in to being isolated with no end in sight makes it hard to hold on to that hope some days, but I feel I have to. Because if we don’t, then what else would we have to look forward to?
No Rest for the Scientists 