5:00PM
Some days I just feel antsy. Not sure from where the word originates, maybe it relates to having ants in one’s pants. I just have this desire to move, to get out, to get away, to go. I can’t sit still, I feel an urge to run free.
The high for today was 46F and I just looked, the average high for today is supposed to be 66F—we’re 20 degrees below what it normally is. The clouds are also dark and gray (grey?). Side note, after having lived in Tanzania and interacted with many Africans and Europeans, I often will mix American and British grammar without knowing which is correct for which context, thus the confusion on the color above.
I want to run, I want to get outside to shoot the basketball, I want to get out of this house, and then I look at the weather and I cringe. Cold, wet, and overcast. As much as I think we can control our emotions from the inside, they sure seem to get influenced by the outside.
I think in this pandemic, I can get stuck complaining about the little things—the weather, the food, the shows on TV, etc.—and forget about the bigger picture. I feel incredibly fortunate to be where I am in the world and feel deep pain when I think about what other people might be going through. When I’m not watching the news, I seem to distance myself from the severity of what’s happening. All it takes is one story, where I read about a nurse hearing a code blue, either choosing to find a mask and maybe lose the patient in the meantime or attend to the patient and not have a mask. She chose the latter and apparently died 14 days later.
I read stories like this and my eyes tear up immediately. Tears start to stream before I even realize what is happening. The mother who has two kids at home and has always had a job to provide for them now standing in line at the food bank to make sure the kids can still eat. The friend in East Africa who normally provides food for 7 relatives but has recently lost their job. The families who are losing not just one but multiple people to this virus, in the same week, without being able to hug them goodbye.
I think complaining about the weather and other things help distract me from the depth of pain that is happening. It feels as if the rivers of the world are filling up with tears and the dams and the levies are about to break, flooding every place and home with human sorrow.
Maybe that’s OK. Maybe we need to cry. To let the waves of sorrow wash over us, and then dry in the bright sunshine of joy.
5:10PM
