Two Weeks Distant
I hugged my roommate yesterday and it made me cry. It was the first time I’d touched another person in over a week.
Here we are; in a world-wide pandemic. Quarantined. Socially-distanced. Isolated. Chicagoans have been all-but-locked in our apartments for 14 days. “Shelter in place,” feels more like “stay the fuck inside, or else.” Sure, we can go to the market or to CVS. You know, because they’re essential. All the bars are closed and the restaurants unless you can order food to-go. Chicago is a very do-something kind of city. We don’t like being in cages.
The first 5 days were a blur. Working from home, my boyfriend and I sat in his apartment eating, wearing wigs and drinking way too many White Claws. I hate to be predictable, but I love a White Claw. But the novelty of it all wore off. The reality that this is our world for the next 4, 6, 12 weeks snapped into place like a souvenir magnet on a steel refrigerator. We don’t know how long this is going to last. We don’t know what’s going to happen when it’s “over”. All we know, is that you wash you hands and you stay the fuck away from each other.
People are trying to make the best of it. Everyone is going LIVE, having Zoom cocktail hours with the girls, doing online workouts and trying to decide if it’s 5 o’clock somewhere or if making a martini at 2pm on a Wednesday is indicative of a deeper-rooted issue. Everyone’s balance is off. Everyone seems to be trying to figure out a way to survive… a way to feel OK.
My partner went to his parents’ farm house and told me to come with him. But… I couldn’t. Something made me feel like I had to experience this; this situation that we’ll all talk about for the rest of our lives. This thing that’ll end up in history books. I felt like I needed to see the city and the people wearing masks. I felt like I needed to feel how far 6 feet feels. I needed to feel the fear of stepping outside my apartment. My friends are here. My life is this city. Chicago is my home.
I needed to feel that this is real. This is real, my friends.
I crave interaction. I feel better when I can make someone laugh. I struggle with anxiety issues and two weeks into this experience, I’ve learned one thing for sure: being stuck inside my apartment–inside my own head–is no place for this flower to bloom. Self-isolation is very isolating.
I’m a hugger… and this is really hard.