This Has Been Hard

It's kind of amazing to think that we've been in the throes of a pandemic for over a year now.  The last year and a half has seen the world turn topsy-turvy in so many ways, from giving us a subtle sense of dread at the beginning, when things were going so very badly in Italy and Spain, to the deep sense of loss and unsureness that we've felt as we've seen more than 500,000 people die in the United States alone--and 2,300,000 (and counting) worldwide.  So many mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, colleagues, neighbors simply aren't among us any more, though there was good reason to think that they would continue to bless us with their presence for years more.

No matter how we look at it, the past year has been extremely difficult for most of us.  People have lost family members, have lost jobs, have lost hope, have lost savings.  We've been under a constant barrage of pressure and rules, from social distancing to mask wearing to customer limits in stores and restaurants.  We've been worried about our loved ones, worried about our jobs, worried about getting sick ourselves and facing the debilitating effects of a brutal virus--up to and including death.

Sometimes, though, my mind tricks me into thinking that life is going on as normal.  This happens even though pretty much all the rules have changed.  I start to wonder why I feel so tired, and I start to think that I'm overreacting to certain things.  I start to think of how nice it would be to just pretend that there's really no pandemic, that I can stop wearing my mask and hang around with people like before, and that there's no need to worry about going to restaurants or stores or cafes or anywhere else that I feel like going.

But then I read the headlines from places other than where I live, and they're not good.  There are still people dying miserable and painful and frightening deaths that they didn't need to die; there are still people who are catching the disease and potentially facing years of painful and debilitating symptoms in their future.  And I know that this isn't over yet, even if it isn't nearly as severe a problem as it was a year ago.

I've run a few ultra-marathons, from 80 to 100 miles.  And believe me, I got tired long before I reached the finish line.  And after 90 miles of running, no one in the world would have faulted me for giving up and saying I was done (heck, the same can be said for after 40 miles, or after 60).  But I still had some distance left--I wasn't done with the experience.  If I wanted to finish what I started, I still had a couple of hours of running ahead of me, and I didn't want to give up.

It's an apt analogy, though the idea of giving up now on the safety measures against Covid-19 is far more drastic--giving up now could get me very sick, or even worse (in my eyes) cause me to get someone else sick, possibly even causing their death.  That's something that I'm not willing to risk.

Allow yourself to be tired.  Allow yourself to be exhausted, even.  Give yourself some very real treats to celebrate having come this far and having given up this much.  Don't berate yourself for feeling exhaustion--very few of us had any preparation at all for this type of experience.  But please try to stay the course, if not for your sake, then for the sakes of people whom you've never met, who one day may otherwise be exposed to the virus that you may end up carrying inadvertently if you're not careful with what you do and how you do it.

Take good care of yourself, and give yourself a break.  You're tired, too, and that's okay.  Allow yourself to be so.