A seemingly long time ago, a pandemic arrived in our towns. We entered quarantine a bit shell shocked but hopeful for a temporary respite. When the date for “normal” was pushed back, we engineered creative solutions to our circumstances.
Outdoor visits, neighborhood singing, zoom game night, food drives, and even old fashion letter writing.
Along the way, as the summer’s warmth faded and quiet holidays passed, the gray cold winter zapped more than our vitamin D. We became less likely to reach out to friends and our social circles shrunk.
We turned further inward. Seeking comfort in the known.
By week’s end, our brains were fried by screen time and colleagues voices in our air pods. The kids were tired and parents’ nerves were frayed. Play dates, travel, dinners out, and de-stressing at the gym became dim memories.
Eventually it became easier to shrink to the confines of our restricted lives.
Perhaps the Scottish writer, Donna Ashworth, captured the zeitgeist of these lonely winter months.
We are spent.
We have nothing left to say.
We are tired of saying “I miss you” and “I cant wait for this to end.”
So we mostly say nothing, put our heads down and get through each day.
And then the light returned. A promise of Spring. A bit of warmth.
Still, so many remain tired. Feeling tumbled about like a seashell in the surf. The grief of personal and shared losses dampens our capacity for optimism. Our social recovery has been slow. We seek to define the unknown. To package it in terminology we can stomach.
As if the “new normal” is in anyway palatable.
We share a longing for contact with our species, yet a pervading discomfort remains. Leaving us hesitant. Tentatively peeking out the proverbial front door, we wave to our neighbors but don’t yet invite them to dinner on the deck.
It’s no longer just a fear of contracting COVID or placing others at risk.
A general malaise with a side of withdrawal is lingering in our population. From mild uneasiness to full blown experiences of depression and anxiety, the withdrawal from social contact becomes self protective.
We’re tired of talking about the pandemic and its effects.
But what is left to say? As the world closed down and our lives grew smaller, our social world contracted. And even while the light returns and outdoors beckon, many are feeling less than interesting or perhaps downright antisocial. Loneliness, insecurity, or a vague sense of dis-ease has taken root within us.
