Jackson with a sign he made for our essential workers March, 2020

We’ve gotten to the part where the news reports are beginning to resemble a Michael Crichton book more than real life. Meanwhile, my brain is making sure to split its time equally between grief and anxiety - how considerate. Painful memories are triggered by a reporter discussing how a pulse oximeter works and what healthy blood oxygen levels are - something we monitored daily with Adelaide. Then I begin to wonder when will all of this finally be over? When will Miguel go back to work and Jackson to school? What will life even look like on the other side of all of this? Please excuse me for a moment while I try and gain control of this runaway brain train.

Several weeks ago, Miguel looked and me and said, “sitting inside is all well and good now, but think about how it’s going to feel in week three or four?”. Admittedly, I heard what he said but knew myself better than to spend too much time actually imagining what continued isolation would actually feel like. Here in Illinois, as we close out week three of social distancing and shelter-in-place orders, his words are coming back to me. It is becoming more clear that we do not know when this will end and instead of counting weeks in isolation, we will be counting months. The projected death tolls are alarming and, well, how do I put this politely… shit is getting real.

Miss A receiving a preventative breathing treatment to help control her breathing episodes… before her mast cells rejected them. We found control where we could, when we could. March, 2017

This week was emotionally tough. I had hoped we would settle into yet another new normal, that finding routine and structure would help - and we have, and it has - but oh my goodness, why are there so many hours in the day?! I’ve long had a complicated relationship with time: when Adelaide was alive there was never enough of it and after she died the open expanse of time felt like a “be careful what you wish for” curse. Enter Covid-19 and again I find myself with more time than ever. Mix in my depression, anxiety and grief and, well, this cocktail is not the fun kind.

I share this because I know I’m not the only one struggling. I’m not the only who is feeling suffocated by the weight of their emotions. Today, I realized I needed to get back to basics, to remind myself of the earliest lesson Adelaide taught me: let go of what you can’t control and focus on what you can. Easier said than done, perhaps, but Adelaide gave me years to perfect this skill. I couldn’t control when her next seizure would occur but I could find the best doctors to treat her. I couldn’t avoid the next time she would stop breathing but I could educate myself on how to handle the situation and make sure we always had everything we needed. I couldn’t prevent her death, but I could make sure we did everything in the end to take away her pain and envelop her in love.

Ok, so, I can’t control this pandemic but I can stay inside and do everything I can to keep my family safe. I can’t prevent my friends and distant family from getting sick but I can social distance so that, should I be unknowingly carrying the virus, I won’t get them sick. I can’t go into homes and help those that are overwhelmed with home schooling, nursing or therapy but I can tell them that I see them and love them and that they are superheroes in my eyes. I can’t avoid my grief but I can try and minimize my known triggers, starting with turning off the news. Sorry, Cuomo brothers, I’ll see you in a few weeks when/if I feel more emotionally stable.

When I worked in events, there was a clause in all contracts called force majeure that essentially meant that if there was a hurricane, blizzard or you know, global pandemic, the contract would be null and void for both parties. I can’t even imagine how many times this clause came up in the last month. But I think we need to extend this idea to ourselves as well. Our lives have become one giant force majeure: all contracts with ourselves are null and void. The only thing that matters right now is staying inside and doing our part to prevent the spread of this virus. We can thank those (from afar) on the front lines and working in essential industries. Let’s help those that are less fortunate than we are by donating online. These are things we CAN do to help us feel like we have the tiniest bit of control.

As for emotional control? Well, those suckers are going to come whether we like it or not. Trust me, I’ve tried to suppress them and A) its not possible and B) sucks for those you are isolating with. Tally that in the things we can’t control column. So we ride them out like we will these very bizarre circumstances and, in the meantime, hope that there is some scientist somewhere that can be the literary hero we so desperately need.