I have this slight obsession with my 600-pound life. Not really sure what it is about the show but I will talk that out in therapy. I watch it often and even more so in 2020. As I was watching it this week while finishing grading, the man on this particular episode said something to the effect of “You know, being this big and immobile you don’t really get outside, I forgot what it's like to feel the sun on my skin or feel the wind against my face. It’s been that long.” A statement so simple, a pleasure hastily overlooked and readily available to many of us on God’s green earth. This year I was reminded about all the things big and small that I take for granted when suddenly the world around me, around us, changed. I felt that even more intensely when I myself tested positive for COVID-19 and the only sunlight I dared to get close to was from the security of my bedroom window.
I thought, well very much wished, I had had a cold. Those who know me personally know that I have been a germaphobe since well before 2020. The running joke is how can I love nature so much and yet everything else in life I must sanitize twice over. I have always washed my hands above average, beyond expert. I have practiced safe masking at about an 85th percentile but since being sick I’m on 110 percent. This year has already done a number on my mental stability and from what I’ve seen I am not alone. I can easily fall into a shell when my routines are shaken. I started in-house workouts but that motivation had disappeared somewhere into the abyss. Some days have been better than others but when I first learned of a positive result back in October I had already been struggling with seasonal depression. I was feeling very down about life. In a year of so much loss around me that can often cloud the good, I was trying not to lose myself. I put on my big girl smile and pressed on.
Sometimes pressing on looks like being still and focusing on getting better. I think this past month or so has been the most still I have been all year. Today was the 3rd time I had left my house since October. The first time was about 3 weeks after quarantining to get another COVID test. I’m not sure about the science part of it all, but the negative COVID-19 test result was enough to make me feel like I could not put anyone else in danger. After which, I joyfully rushed back home to bleach and pinesol my life away. The second time was to go for a walk now that I was clear. There was so much anxiety that I felt when strangers were walking too close to me and the mind racing thoughts that someone could breathe on me and I get sick again. I will add this as another talking point in therapy. Then there was yesterday. I needed to get up and go for a walk. See the world moving. I jokingly messaged my sister that 2020 took me from deadlifting 145 pounds to adding an enormous amount of dead weight on my body and I should do this walking out the house thing more often. Again I say, I started the year going to my gym 3-4 times a week since last year, then eased into Youtube workouts but not quite on any of those rides anymore.
When I read the numbers and I think about all the people who got sick and did not have mild symptoms like myself, I whisper a prayer for those who have suffered great losses known and unknown. I am reminded that though this year has been tough. Joy is yet available with each new day given to me. Fittingly, I will navigate as safely as possible in this new norm because there are others who don’t have a chance to. Learning to not take my time for granted because story endings happen every day.