Therapy, meditation, and a whole lot of reading have built the foundation of my sanity. Volunteerism has been a source of humility. I try to goof around and laugh like an idiot whenever possible. Actions to
and chronic anxiety — issues which were unsurprisingly exacerbated by pandemic life — are just part of a daily checklist of life maintenance, like brushing my teeth and going to sleep. We're in a constant state of mourning for people, places, and experiences that are gone from our lives forever. Even in the best-case scenario, there's a prevailing sense that whatever is on the other side of this historical tragedy will bear little resemblance to the familiar comforts of life before.
In the "hopeful" present I still see lines of people, stretching blocks-long, waiting to enter a church's food bank for a life-sustaining bag of groceries. I still see family, friends, and colleagues suffering with COVID, either directly or indirectly. And I continue to agonize over whether disrupting my kids' worlds and fleeing New York City, during a time of great vulnerability in their lives, is the right thing to do.