Plague Diaries, Issue 29: April 10, 2020

Ha, it's kind of funny, in a sad way, that after my epic "Ideal Plague Day" that I had on Wednesday, I had two days of pretty solid slothiness. In the last two days, I've made serious inroads into my quest to become one with my couch. And then--this evening, in the middle of my incessant scrolling through Facebook this evening, I came across this article , which touches on the looming mental health crisis many of us are facing. Apparently, I'm not the only one caught in this endless productivity/sloth loop. And this article now has got me feeling some sort of way.

"Lower the bar to the times we're living in: the bottom of the fucking dumpster. Because this is an emotional marathon, not a race. And Mrs. 'I'm spending my quarantine getting certified in Jeet Kun Do while cooking vegan meals for my eighteen kids!' is going to burn out at mile three."

Completely aside with my own issues with self-worth and productivity, part of my personal struggle with everything is the uncertainty--how long will this go for? I feel like I could be more prepared and able to deal with this if I knew, if I just knew, when this would end. Someone, tell me, please!

At first, I thought, okay, my life can resume on April 6, which was originally when my library was tentatively supposed to re-open.  And then it became April 7, in line with the governor's Stay at Home Order. Then some jackass pretending to be President babbled some nonsense about everyone being able to go to church on Easter. And then the social distancing guidelines were extended to the end of April, on a federal level. And then our governor extended the state's Stay at Home Order until April 20. Meanwhile, I'm reading articles about how some parts of the US could be "open for travel" by summer, and then other articles about how "flattening the curve" will only happen if we comply with social distancing until August. So when is it? Late April? May? August? A random Thursday in June? Just give me a date, folks. Please. 

It's an impossible ask, and I feel silly even uttering it. And why does the "end date" matter so much to me? I don't know, but it does. Maybe because if I knew how long I have to prepare for, I could know what preparations to make. I mean, shit, if we can resume normal life in ten days, what's the point in even trying to re-zone my home for work, play, exercise, and sleep? If we can resume normal life by the beginning of May, would I have to cancel my 40th birthday trip? If we know when this ends, I know how to what extent I need to mentally fortify myself.

But no one knows. Not me, not you, not my cats, not our bosses, not our neighbors. No one.

When people ask me how I'm holding up, I tend to give a non-answer: "Taking it one day at a time." And now that I think about it--that is an answer. The subtext: "I'm struggling. I'm worried. I vacillate between exhaustion, resignation, determination, frustration, contentedness, anxiety, and aggravation, but I am really trying hard not to think beyond today."

And I guess that's my answer about when is this going to end? The answer is--for me, at least, at this point, it doesn't matter. In my life right now, there is no April 20, or beginning of summer, or The End of the Plague. This is it. This is my life. I'm taking it one day at a time. I live here now.

Daily Indiana COVID-19 Counts: 
Total Cases: 6,907 (up from yesterday's 6,351)
300 people have died.

Daily Gratitude: 
Despite the Death Storm of Doom that struck the other evening, there are still so many blossoms on the trees. It absolutely baffles me--how can such delicate looking things withstand those winds and the hail? There's probably some blatant symbolism to be found in that.


Daily Funnies: