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Two things I read recently:

Instead of seeing social distancing and travel bans as panic, see them as acts of mass cooperation intended to protect the collective whole.

:::

Don’t change your behavior to avoid being infected. Assume you are infected, and change your behavior to avoid transmitting.

The first one is more soothing than the second, but both provided me with a perspective shift that is helping me feel more anchored.

Surely it’s the inability to really believe this is all happening that is driving some of the behaviors we’re still seeing. I will be the first to say that I should have taken this more seriously sooner, but it’s officially become mind-boggling to me how many folks who don’t need to be around a bunch of other people are doing so. Like, at least stop posting photos of your “social distancing party” on Facebook. YOU GUYS THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS.

It’s possible I am more annoyed that people are out socializing because I am feeling increasingly restless, rather than righteously judgmental about my own commitment to quarantine.

There’s a real contrariness to having to stay home. As a true introvert I love being home and have the weird little couch-nest to prove it, but not being able to leave changes a lot of those familiar feelings of comfort to a sense of being stifled.

Going for walks helps, as does exercise. Barre3 has a lot of great online classes, Blogilates, PopSugar Fitness, and Yoga with Adrienne on YouTube are personal faves, and I’m planning to try out the Peloton app now that it’s free for 3 months. I have a little pile of workout stuff — bands, small weights, a kettlebell — that I haul out when I’m watching TV at night and do floor exercises.

It’s also important to take a news break, which I know is a giant no duh but boy is it hard to just put down the damn phone. Things are changing so quickly I have this worry that if I don’t constantly check in something major will happen and … well, then what? The logic doesn’t play out, but it’s there all the same.

In happier news, the weeping cherry tree in our front yard is just starting to flower. I somewhat associate this tree with being in rehab, because the year I was in Serenity Lane I missed the bloom. It’s short but dramatic, just a gorgeous display of fuschia-pink petals that drape gracefully downward like falling firework sparks.

I’m glad to be here to see it, this year. Maybe I can think about that when I’m wishing for a return to the hustle and bustle of normal life: it’s not all bad, being asked to slow down. It goes against everything our society has become, but maybe something new will emerge from all of this, and maybe that is something to hope for instead of fear.

The pace of all the coronavirus news and updates is the scariest part of all of this, at least so far. There is of course the fact that we just don’t know what’s going to happen next, and that’s scary too, but it’s so disorienting to have things change so dramatically one day to the next, or even by the hour. I keep thinking about how last week — was it just last week!? — my friend and I were dithering over whether to cancel our San Francisco getaway plans. Like, we were having such a hard time making a decision because it wasn’t yet clear what everyone should be doing, and from this vantage point that all seems hopelessly naive. Oh, one week ago me, how cute that you were still browsing Bay Area menus.

It took me longer than it should have to really get my head around what’s happening and what’s required of us all. At one point a couple days ago I just up and drove to the library, thinking that being around people was worth stocking up on a bunch of books, and the library was closed. Oh riiiight, I thought.

Someone in my Facebook feed compared the feeling of being in this shutdown to the ongoing DUH when your house loses power, and that seems exactly right. It’s like I’m mentally walking around flipping light switches over and over and going, oh right. No you can’t go to the gym or Barre3 or TJ Maxx or the consignment place or the craft store, so stop lunging for the car keys, self.

I am, like all of us, so incredibly grateful this virus is not targeting children. Can you even begin to imagine what this would all be like if that were the case? My god. I’m also deeply grateful for the springlike sunshine we’re having in Eugene right now, it’s chilly but beautiful and that really helps.

The last two days I’ve gone for long walks while listening to podcasts and audiobooks, anything but pandemic news, and that has been head-clearing and good. I’m trying to keep up with my exercise routine. I’m trying to extend myself some grace about my eating habits going off the rails, while also trying to gently get myself back on track because honestly the carb bingeing just makes me more anxious.

It seems like we are all frozen in place, holding our collective breath, waiting to see what happens next. Take good care, friends.

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