I am an extrovert...extreme. Contact with people is as essential to me as food, water and air. A quarantine goes against every fiber in my body. I understand and agree with what is happening now 100 percent, believe me. But my inner child is screaming "Let me OUT!"
My husband, Brendan, is an introvert...extreme. He is never happier than when he is home puttering around the kitchen, poking around on the computer, working on a jigsaw puzzle or playing with the dog. How we ended up together is a story for another time but it has worked very well for over 44 years.
In a cruel twist of fate, he is also the only one allowed out to do the essential shopping and chores since my immune system has been compromised due to recent radiation for breast cancer. He picks up whatever we need during the designated "senior shopping hour" and races home as fast as he can, grateful to be in the familiar confines of home again. As soon as he gets home, I beg him for every detail of his excursion, desperately navigating a virtual trip to the store through his experience. Once in a while I am allowed to go, but only to sit in the car, so tantalizingly close to the hustle and bustle of people but forbidden to partake in the experience.
This will be our new normal for the forseeable future. I take every opportunity to walk outside and embrace the onset of of Spring in our yard and in the neighborhood but what I really want to do is...dare I say it...BE WITH PEOPLE! Brendan understands this and is very sweetly making attempts to be a sparkling conversationalist for my sake. However his comfort zone can only stretch so far and eventually the pain becomes obvious, something I call the "spinning eyeball effect" and I end his agony by retreating to my craft room to knit, read, watch tv or scan the internet. Under normal circumstances, I could make a quick call or email to a friend for a coffee shop rendezvous and relieve the pressure for him but these days...not an option.
I know there are a lot of us "E" types out there so I have begun to develop some coping strategies and hope others of you will share. Together we can and will get through this.
Here are some of my personal E-people tips for survival of this craziness:
* The refrigerator and cupboards, actually the entire kitchen, will NOT ease the pain. I know E-friends who are using baking and cooking to substitute for social interaction. All well and good if you can deposit the end results on someone else's doorstep instead of in your own piehole. I have no such self-restraint (besides, the kitchen is Brendan's staked-out territory, requiring me to submit a prior reservation complete with substantial justification for the invasion of his turf...and he knows too well my propensity for boredom eating). I remind myself that when this is over it would be so nice to fit in the same clothes I wore when this started.
* Daytime television is a mind-numbing wasteland, especially when paired with the kitchen issue outlined above. As E-folks you will find yourself carrying on conversations with the screen OUT LOUD, denouncing the stupidity of what you see. This is not a good mental health outcome, especially if you live with others who will overhear you and feel compelled to conduct an intervention. Don't ask me how I know this.
* Practice moderation in your pursuit of recreational activities. Those crossword/jigsaw/sudoku/wordsearch puzzles will take on sinister attributes after the first five or six hours. You will find yourself viewing knitting needles as potential instruments of self-harm after mindlessly knitting fifty straight rows and then discovering that you have been knitting the wrong pattern for forty five of them. Rereading the same paragraph six times and STILL not remembering what you read means it's time to put the book down. Take frequent breaks to walk up and down the stairs (laundry might actually be a pleasant diversion with surprisingly productive results) or, better yet, take a walk in the yard or around the block, avoiding the temptation to stop and visit with anyone BECAUSE YOU COULD DIE. (Is that enough of a deterrent to curb the impulse?)
* Take firm hold of the long to-do list you made at the onset of this debacle...you know, that "all those things I should be doing now that I have time" list and emphatically tear it into teeny tiny pieces, then place said pieces in the recycling bin. You're not going to do them so just get that notion out of the way up front. When this is over your closets will still be full of clothes you wore six sizes ago, your windows will be just as dirty as they were in February and that box with forty years worth of pictures and memorabilia will still be under your bed. Instead start each day with the knowledge that you will do whatever the hell you feel like doing that day. Your morale will thank me for that tip.
* Speaking of starting the day...DO shower and get dressed. After weeks of this crap there is nothing more depressing than finding yourself in the same pajamas every day at three o'clock in the afternoon. Your roommate/spouse/significant other/pet will thank me for THAT tip!
* Modern communication is a marvel...email, FaceTime, YouTube, Zoom, Facebook...all have brought us closer together but they have a dark side. Keep your "screen time" to a reasonable minimum. If you are a news junkie, set aside a specific time each day to check the latest information. Too much dire, depressing and often sensationally untrue stuff hitting you all day will eat at your spirits like a fat kid devours Snickers bars. Find a trusted source and stick with it. Keep your on-line chats with friends and family short and upbeat with a lot of laughter (appropriately timed to avoid them questioning your mental state) and positivity. Nobody likes a Debbie Downer or a Peter Pessimist.
* Keep an eye on your neighbors, especially elderly or physically challenged ones from a safe distance. If you are going to the store, email or call them to see if you can get them anything. Maybe that single mom at home and trying to keep her sanity with three restless kids could use some groceries or some of those baked goods you whipped up left on her doorstep. (Avoid the temptation to leave a large bottle of wine unless specifically requested to.) Brendan routinely produces dinners, soups, breads, etc. enough for a family of six so we have "adopted" our elderly neighbor who lives alone to help us avoid a refrigerator bulging with leftovers. We also offer to pick up groceries to minimize her trips and dangerous exposure. She will call to request something or thank us and that's when I can get a bit of a social fix on the phone.
* And, above all, remember that this situation is temporary. There WILL come a day when we can leave our houses and apartments, come face to face with our loved ones and neighbors and indulge our natural inclinations to socialize as much as we want...no masks, no obligatory hand sanitizers, no six foot separations. The Introverts can stay at home if they want...we won't judge them. Truth be told, they will probably be very happy to have us out of their space!
Hang in there, everybody. This too shall pass.
1 comment:
Never truer words spoken! Miss you...
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