What I Did On My Covid-19 Vacation

Ask any of my friends, they’ll tell you, I loathe being told what to do. In fact, I instantly prickle against anyone who dares to use the word “should” in reference to me. This likely comes from a background of feeling like I’ve been told what to do, how to feel and what I should think – since like, my whole life. In the years since my marriage ended, I’ve made decisions for myself that weren’t always beneficial however, they’ve been my decisions. My choices. My mistakes. My consequences. I’m like a Honey Badger: I do what I want. 

So, I’m not gonna lie, being told I have to stay home and stay away from people, places and activities I love – it’s not sitting well with me. I feel like I’m handing my freedoms and liberties over without so much as a sigh, let alone a fight – and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I’m struggling with it just like everyone else. I’ve had minor rebellions here and there (which I’m not going to reveal) and with all the shaming I’ve seen on social media, well it’s enough to make me skirt around furtively like some kind of criminal even when I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m turning away from scrolling through social media now, just to avoid the negativity – even the memes, because they no longer seem funny now that we’re four weeks into this.

As is everyone, I’m weary from having too much time on my hands, and my house can’t get any cleaner than it is. I have plenty to do if I want – I could clean out my garage. I could make the seasonal transfer from winter to spring/summer clothing. I could go out and clear the space where I am planning a Zen garden, but I haven’t done any of that yet. My excuse is that it’s still cold outside. I’ve never been one to drink alone but these are unusual circumstances so I’ve made an exception to that rule and start watching the clock around 3:30. Once the clock strikes 4:00, out comes the cork and I pour myself a glass of red, a hefty pour, but just one, nonetheless, or should I say more or less?  Sigh…is everyone as discombobulated as I feel? Because I’m also angry. Angry that I can’t control this. Angry that I feel isolated. Angry that I can’t give my family hugs. Angry, because it makes no sense to me that people who want to fish can’t fish (and I don’t even fish!). Angry because people are being chased off a beach for taking a run in the sand. Angry that the hiking trails are closed. Angry that even SUP is against the rules. Angry that the information out there seems to be so conflicting. And I’m so angry that this world no longer seems to make sense and if I’m completely honest, I’m scared because I wonder, will life ever be the same or will all these changes become our new normal? 

 I’m trying. God knows, we’re all trying. Most of us are following the rules and trying to be patient. But we’re also worried. Our jobs are uncertain. We feel fragile. I’m trying to process it all by doing things that make me feel normal. I started filling out my daily planner again just so I could feel like I had a busy day because like everyone else in the first two weeks of this quarantine, I ate my way through Netflix binges and instead of feeling like I’m winning because all my laundry is made up of yoga pants and workout clothing, I am having to force myself to wear jeans every day just to keep me honest. And I’m wearing a bra again, because frankly, these ladies have been dirty dancing for weeks. I’m putting on makeup every day, even though the only people who see me are the same two guys at the gas station where I go everyday to get a diet Dr. Pepper, just so I can have some human contact by asking for my usual. (Yes, Shamers, I have a mask on).

But, I’m doing creative things too. I ordered art supplies online and started painting again because it reminds me of the Friday nights I spent in Phoenix painting at my friend Dina’s studio, drinking wine, listening to music and laughing with friends while I learned the basics of painting with acrylics. I’m no Picasso, but there’s something calming about art and creating. I’m also writing because it helps me process these feelings of anger and frustration. I’m cooking more, because well, I have to – a lot healthier than the first two weeks too. I’m exercising daily with Beach Body on my television, although I’m quite certain the neighbors in my townhouse community have been traumatized by the spectacle of me in the front window practicing barrè and yoga. I’m trying to take a long walk every day just to get some fresh air – Me and and about a million other people, so now I’m worried they’re going to take that away as well.

For me, it’s an hourly battle. I’m not waving a white flag of surrender though, more like a beigey-taupe one, because freedom isn’t something I take lightly – and if I’ve learned anything from this pandemic, it’s that our freedom and liberties are precious and should never be taken for granted. I’ll do this; reluctantly sure, but if it means getting out of quarantine jail before summer, I will stay home a little longer, paint a few more paintings and write a few more blogs to keep the angry voices in my head at bay and at peace. 

Be well!

Tamara

 

***Painting replicated from a photo, by Tamara K. Williams aka: Tiki

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