Hey. So.
I’m starting this entry with no blueprint – no original idea or positive spin in mind. Who am I to say anything at all during this pandemic? I know that the most important thing I can do is listen to others who are more likely to be affected and physically distance myself. But this is not a widely-read blog and maybe doing the best I can right now is doing anything at all. So this is me trying.
This is inevitably going to be about me. Yes, I am privileged, and yes, I recognise that. But John Green recently said that comparing loss (i.e., feeling guilty for having feelings when other people are probably having worse feelings) is unproductive. I’m going to try to give myself some space here. Maybe that’s too generous to myself, but it’s all that I can do at the moment.
My graduate school experience, to put it lightly, has not gone as I planned, hoped, or expected. I’m tempted to just list everything that’s gone wrong as I’ve done before, though that’s really a catharsis that I should save for my journal. Maybe let’s try to generalise/universalise.
I have procrastinated on doing things – in terms of travel, work, and y’know, treatin’ mah’self – to accommodate my depression and anxiety, and now I’m a little unsure that I’ll be able to do them at all, due to the outbreak. (Again, first world, first world, first world.) It leaves me wondering whether I did the right thing in allowing myself to go slowly, or if I should have jumped out there and taken chances and done things regardless of my feelings or reasonings.
The things that I found myself living for – my first half-marathon, my first acting role in almost a decade, performances with my a cappella group, working with young people in a creative capacity, and even, bizarrely, church – have all been cancelled, and none of them are things to which I can say, ‘oh, well, maybe next year.’ This is my one year here. This was my one chance. And I feel like I’ve blown it. To clarify, I’m not frustrated with COVID-19 for the cancellations – we should be doing all we can to keep everyone safe, and my biggest and most looming fears have to do with the consequences of this disease on other people’s lives – but I’m frustrated that I waited so long to take the opportunities.
I agonised about whether I should fly home to the States when my university started sending e-mails like, ‘hey international students, we STRONGLY RECOMMEND that you consider going home.’ Before that, I denied the seriousness of this disease because the denial kept me safe. I’m still here in the UK because I don’t want to get my parents sick. I don’t want to shirk on my work. I don’t want to let go of the hope that I’ll be able to go home anyway as scheduled in May.
I’ve been going on walks – not touching anybody, of course, and staying as far away as I can – collecting food, and occasionally trying to contact the people I don’t think will be annoyed by hearing from me. I’ve been reading like a madwoman and trying to feel positive against all odds and procrastinating as usual on my work. I’ve been trying to assuage my guilt by working for and donating to nonprofits, but most of all, I have been in bed eating my way through my strategic stock of ice cream.
I am so privileged. But I still don’t know what to do.
I do believe that literature and the power of narrative and the power of human beings working alongside each other are strong enough to help us get through this. My dissertation here is on literature spurring activism, after all. The hard thing is that I can’t reconcile the fact that we haven’t protected the people who most need protecting. Narrative often tells us that there is some level of human sacrifice that goes along with some sort of overcoming. Well, there shouldn’t have to be. There should be sacrifices like staying at home, cancelling a race, staying apart from those you love for there safety… but we should never accept someone’s life as a sacrifice.
Sometimes I stop and bemoan that I am part of the generation who must try to fix everything before humanity literally reaches a boiling point. But that’s what’s happening. I may not be ready for it, I may not be equal to it, but I am trying. I think, at the moment, that’s all we can ask ourselves.
Bloggin' For Mom 