Hal and I went for a walk the other evening. The streets were empty, except for a few other people who were also out for a walk, and in the air was total silence. We live within a few kilometers of the train yard, but I have never really heard the sound of a train very clearly because it is always blocked out by all the other noise. At one point, I stopped walking and asked Hal what that weird sound was... it was the sound of a train's wheels running along the train tracks. I had never really heard that sound before, because it's never that quiet and peaceful in Montreal.
As we kept walking, I started thinking about that peace and quiet. I grew up in a very small city in BC (it has a population of about 7,000 people), so I really like peace and quiet and a slower pace of life, and I have actually always struggled a bit with the constant noise and the never-ending hectic pace in Montreal. In a weird way, the current state of peace and quiet in Montreal brings me some degree of peace and tranquility. But then I inevitably lose some of it when I read the news about the latest restrictions, closures, and numbers of positive cases, hospitalizations, and deaths.
In the recent days and weeks, Quebec's Premier, François Legault, has sometimes used the language of war during his daily updates, like during the one on March 25.
- "Quebecers are in the battle of their lives against COVID-19."
- "An army of 8.5 million people united in the fight against COVID-19."
- “Every action we take will bring us closer to victory."
- “Our children and grandchildren will remember how we won this battle, so let’s make them proud.”
As I was contemplating the peace and quiet during our walk, I also started contemplating the notion of being in a war. We truly are in a war, but not the kind that is conjured up in my mind when I hear that word.
We are in a war against a virus and against the incredible speed at which it can travel. We are in a war against time. We are in a war for the lives of those who are infected; for the vitality of our economy; for our jobs and businesses; for the physical, mental and emotional health of ourselves and our families; for the endurance and resilience to do the impossible task of working from home while homeschooling children at the same time; for our patience and sanity; for our peace and joy and hope; for our ability to sleep soundly at night; for our levels of anxiety and fear to stay at "manageable" levels (what does that even mean anyways); and for our self-control to stay at home instead of going out and doing the things that we so long to be able to do. And those are just some of the aspects of this war that we are all individually and collectively fighting every. single. day. I am sure that each of you could add to that list, as our individual realities right now are all unique.
This is a battle. It is a war. But it's mostly an invisible and silent one. We are not really fighting against something that we can see with our physical eyes. We cannot see the virus moving around our cities or along our streets or entering our bodies. I saw a Facebook post the other day depicting just that... hundreds of purple coronaviruses descending on and bombing a city. It would be almost be easier if we could see that though, wouldn't it? That's what comes to my mind when I think of a war... bombing, planes flying overhead, people screaming, incredible amounts of noise... but maybe I have just watched too many movies!
I only personally know one person who has been tested positive for COVID-19 and I obviously have not seen her since that was confirmed... I only know of her battle with the virus through her Facebook posts. I do, however, know a lot of people who have lost their jobs due to the closure of all businesses except for essential services, and even more people who are now working from home, or at least trying to. I also know a few small business owners who are now struggling to survive because they had to close the doors of their business indefinitely.
I also have a front row seat to the chaos that reigns in grocery stores and pharmacies through the stories that Hal tells me most evenings when he comes home from work. He is actually handling it all pretty well, other than being really tired and sleeping way more than I have ever seen him sleep, but sometimes what I see in his eyes or hear in his voice when he tells me what happened at work is heartbreaking.
None of this is at all what I would expect from a war, but it is nonetheless a raging war that is ravaging our cities, our provinces/states/regions, our countries, and our world.
During and after my walk with Hal the other evening, I was finally able to name what I am grieving the most right now and why I sometimes feel trapped. I think it helped to finally identify those things and give them each a name. I'm sure that I am not done grieving though because grief is always a process and a journey... and this war is not over, which means that the things that I will grieve will no doubt change from week to week, or maybe even day to day.
Most of the day before yesterday (whatever day that was... do the days of the week still have names) was a really difficult day for me, mostly due to the fact that Legault had announced that the shutdown of all non-essential businesses has been extended until May 4. That means at least another month of self-isolating at home and social distancing outside of the home. Every time a major restriction like that is imposed on us, I really struggle to deal with it for some period of time. For most of that day (again, whatever day it was), I felt on the verge of tears. The only real productive thing that I managed to do all day was our laundry!
Here are a couple of really good articles that have helped me in the last week or so to deal with my struggles and with my overall lack of motivation towards a lot of things right now:
Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure (it's directed at academics, but totally applies to any human being living through this pandemic)
And here are a couple of helpful posts that have reminded me that my worth is not defined by what I can accomplish during a crisis and that what I am feeling really is valid and needs to be acknowledged. I am learning to give myself grace and compassion while walking through this unknown wilderness.
2 comments:
Beautiful Sarah. It's a good and unique perspective. thank you
I wanted to see your rainbow, so I came to your blog. I think we should put one up too, but I dont think I could do as good a job as you did. I'd like to somehow add to it God's promise that the rainbow symbolizes. Well written article, too; I liked it. I know more than one person who has not only contracted COVID 19 but also died of it immediately after. I still think that the predominant reaction to this is way overblown. I believe the battle is primarily spiritual, in keeping that peace that you felt. I, myeslf, am also struggling with productivity and the whole concept of wasting time; not quite sure what that is axeactly, except not living up to somebody's expectations. I felt like I accomplished absolutely nothing yesterday. I had 18 phone calls (not to mention Zoom, Line, text, FB). So, maybe the accomplishment was somewhere in all of those conversations that I otherwise wouldn't have had. Great article, thanks.
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