Notelette: Real Or Not

There is no denying the toll the pandemic has taken on our lives, our mental health. I cannot imagine how “aware” I have become of myself, how I do my work, how I pale in comparison to others knowledge and results. And second guessing how real are the things other people post about themselves — is it possible? could it be? Am I that far behind? And the worst part of it is my conscious refusal to complain about it, knowing how others have taken it even harder : the people who have lost family, loved ones, friends. Those who have closed businesses. Those forced to face the anger of the staff they let go. Those who suddenly have to deal with the unknowns of paying for a house, a car, and feeding their children. Those who have gone through the torture of the Virus. Those who had lost jobs. Those who cannot see beyond tomorrow. Those who suffer illness but have to avoid seeing doctors in a virus-infested hospital. Those forced to endure the attacks of a violent spouse in the house. I cannot fairly moan when I have a home to go to, work I can do remotely, family who can stay safe in house. And yet, I have developed this unexplained nervousness and restlessness that is overwhelming; oftentimes bordering on Dread. What will all be like, really, when we get out the other end? I think the lockdown is a period that allowed so much of our fears, anger, insecurities to incubate. And when we pop the lid off of, imagine the loud boom.