When The Great Covid began earlier this year I was one of those people who was constantly telling you that actually we really had a lot to learn from this experience and "in a way" it was totally valuable and shouldn't we be kind of grateful that we had to slow down?
Then some months passed and suddenly I found myself screaming in my mind and becoming willing to kill for movie theater popcorn.
Ok, not totally. I still feel those early things about sunshine and rainbows. But the working from home all day every day business has started to wear on me in a way I had not previously anticipated.
When we started all of this, Sky was in regular classes at school and since The Whole World got canceled starting March, he was suddenly sent home, just like I was. So we'd both work from the house every day together, occasionally yelling to each other from neighboring rooms "WHY ARE YOU SO FREAKING LOUD."
Duncan would wander between us, sometimes happy for the company but usually looking more annoyed that we were disrupting his all-day nap, which, to be fair, would be an important part of my schedule as well if I had no bills, someone fed me every meal, and I got to poop outside without shame YES I THINK THAT SOUNDS LIBERATING DON'T @ ME.
So, things were fine and well. I felt like I was sequestered with my family, checking the news and worrying, but at least having someone to worry with.
And then, without a single person consulting with me, suddenly Skylar was stripped away and sent off to something called "rotations" which I'm still not sure isn't code for "affairs."
Rotations happen in hospitals and I know it's shocking, but those are like the one thing that hasn't closed in 2020. So, since Skylar is a life-saver or a camera-butt doctor or something, he can no longer work from home. I should really get one of those "a medical professional lives here" signs for the front yard and I probably will the next time we see one on one of our walks.
The first day he left for his rotations I stood on the proverbial front porch and waved a white handkerchief I periodically used to wipe my eyes, like a heartbroken mistress bidding farewell to her Civil-War-bound beau. I say "proverbial" because I was actually in bed and not even aware he had gotten up for the day since he was required to report to the hospital at illegal o' clock.
And I felt like we were living a romantic story amid a world-wide pandemic.
One week later I found myself following a dog around my house begging him to talk to me and saying things like "you've been a real bitch ever since you got that new collar."
The point is, being alone all day every day turned out to be a struggle for this extrovert who previously has never understood how or why any human could ever enjoy being alone for any amount of time. And y'all, I think I might be losing my mind.
AND I LITERALLY NEVER SAY Y'ALL. EVEN WHEN I'M LOSING MY MIND.
Skylar started noticing I was spiraling into some level of insanity a few weeks ago, or so I suspected when various friends began calling me out of the blue to ask me how I was doing and to invite me to come work from their kitchen tables "so you at least won't be alone all the time."
It was really very sweet that he noticed and cared, but it also felt very much like those moms who try to get their outcast children invited to the birthday parties of the popular kids.
The point is, I've entered a new phase of Covid loneliness, and even though I'm grateful to be healthy and employed and etc., I'm trying to figure out how to navigate this next step. So if y'allall'all have any advice for me, I'm all ears (and hair).
~It Just Gets Stranger