Thanks Suzanne. I was about to do the same thing with her piece.
I just got off the phone with my social media expert who got into a 90-minute screaming match with his beloved grams for 1) claiming it’s all fake 2) heading out to do whatever the fuck she wants, wherever she wants, with whom she wants because she believes that this is plot against Trump and 3) being mindlessly ignorant, brutally selfish and hopelessly dangerous with her actions. This isn’t just a generation. This is across the board.
I am TIRED of Pollyanna memes. TIRED of watching people here in Colorado hike in big clumps. I SEE DEAD PEOPLE. You don’t stay away from others, take precautions, you may be one of them, or cause mayhem otherwise.
My beloved friend Ann Litts pleaded with all of us: stay home. Save a nurse. I might add: save a doctor. Save a community. Save a city. She’s an ORt nurse. You don’t have to listen to me. Listen to a nurse:
Stay. The FUCK. Home.
Yeah. I’m trying to focus on the positive, but I am hyper aware of what’s going on and my role to make it better or worse. I have friends who are sick and friends who will get sick. Friends who will likely die due to their circumstances. And while I will use black humor as a way to deal, a way to uplift my spirits, I am just beyond the level of denial which is little more than involuntary manslaughter. You wanna kill yourself, have at it. But kindly don’t take others with you. And potentially the health care professionals who are skipping meals and working themselves to death to save your ass and mine, while risking their own.
Claiming ignorance is probably not going to be an adequate response when and if you have to answer to whatever Higher Power you believe has the right to call you on the Heavenly carpet. Mine is my fucking conscience.
I exercise inside, write inside, run and hike when those places have the least people likely to be around (read-dawn), and only shop if I absolutely must. Which this week and next, Is, Not. At. All. NOT AT ALL. If I run out of eggs, I have tuna. I run out of cream, I switch to tea. For Chrissakes, learn to deal with it already. Of course it’s hard. How about how hard it is for those who have already lost people?
My cabin fever, and it’s considerable, is MY issue.
Thanks again Suzanne, and to the superb Jessica Valenti for this hard to read but has to be said article. Please get it in front of eyeballs that are still in the fog of denial.