… in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic from a little spot in southern Maine, kind of off the beaten path, but within a 10-minute car ride of lots of people and economic activity. While I love towns and cities–people! cultural activities! food! action!–I also love being in the company of birds and trees. As long as I remain healthy, that’s who I’ll be spending the next 4 to 8 weeks with–along with my partner–depending on what this virus does in the meantime, where it goes, if we get it, etc.
Being Mainers, we’re well-stocked and as ready as we’ll ever be. But I’m scared. Scared for my far-flung family and friends, for our neighbors, for my teaching colleagues and students from all over the world, for the people of my hometown in Pennsylvania, in Montgomery County, the hardest hit there so far. I’m sad about all the individual suffering on such a large scale.
My anxiety went on a jag about 2 weeks ago and lasted for a solid week, as I did some preliminary shopping and started to get accustomed to accepting the unknown–something this control freak is totally resistant to. I began cutting back on trips out of the house. I gave up writing in a local coffee shop and found myself unable to concentrate at home. Then, I finally resolved that this past Saturday would be my last trip out for as long as possible. But this social distancing is not complete as long as my partner, who is a psychotherapist at an area hospital, continues to go to work every day. I understand the importance of the support systems in place for his clients, but I am also selfishly hoping the hospital can set up some form of tele-therapy soon.