Almost seven months down the road and we have no clue when life will go back to normal. Or if it ever will. Most, if not all of us are just plain sick and tired of what the pandemic has done to our lives. Who knew that the world, as we know it, would completely shut down? Nobody could have ever imagined what the pandemic would bring—fear for the health of all those we hold dear, not being able to be with our loved ones, especially grandparents is heartbreaking.
Which is why when Mama Chinkee Clemente-Koppe posted this Facebook status, we moms at Modern Parenting breathed a loud “AMEN!”. Finally, someone said what we’ve been all feeling for months. We’re so over this pandemic, and nobody says it better than Chinkee:
I have finally come to that point where I am so sick of all this. This is not the life any of us signed up for. How is this living?
I am tired of chatting with my friends on-line, when I would rather be there for them during what is probably the most difficult time in our lives. I want to be there for them after they have lost a loved one, or their job, or their businesses. I want to physically hold them as they sob uncontrollably, or have a drink with them while they curse at their landlord for shuttering their establishment with barely any warning. I am sick of telling people that I will see them soon when I have been saying that for months.
It frustrates me that my mom is spending her golden years mostly alone in her condo, when she has grandchildren to spoil, sisters to have lunch with, and daughters to go shopping with. I am literally meters away and I fear a simple visit could spell the difference between her good health or her untimely demise. I want to sit in her living room, drink her free coffee and eat her snacks she shouldn’t be eating anyway, while I listen to her stories, whether they be happy or sad, regardless if it is the 98th time she has said it. She misses my dad so much, and I wish she was busier so she didn’t have to just always be missing him.
The other day, Chiara (my daughter) told me she missed going to the mall and watching movies. We used to watch movies at the mall next door all the time. When we went out on errands, she would sometimes grab my hand and lead me to the cinema just so she can look at the posters and plan our next viewing. She said she missed eating in the theater. She would always have Potato Corner sour cream-flavored fries, I would have white cheese-flavored popcorn. Matt (my husband) would have the spiciest Jamaican patties, I think they’re called Spicy Pinatubo. We would share a large Coke Zero. Remember when we used to share straws?
I am sick of not having a regular, part-time job. Yes, the one where I attend events or visit an exciting new restaurant or bar so I can eat their food, drink their drinks, and then write about it. Yes, that was my job. And I loved it. I loved meeting the people behind those places, seeing how excited they are about what is oftentimes a longtime dream finally coming to fruition. Then after I would sit in my room or at a cafe and write their story. I miss telling stories of people’s hopes and dreams, their struggles and triumphs. Or why they cook a dish a certain way or mix a cocktail the way they do. I miss meeting new people, catching up with old industry friends, and working with the best. I miss doing what I do best.
Most of all, I am tired of not being able to say I’m tired of this. Whenever I feel depressed or angry about this whole situation, I stop myself because, frankly, millions of people have it worse. People are experiencing death in its many varied incarnations. There are the jobless who have lost their income but not the mouths to feed. Families have been torn apart by this pandemic, and many did not even get to have one last glimpse of a loved one before they were reduced to ashes. Healthcare workers are dropping like soldiers in a futile war against an invisible merciless enemy. Who the eff am I to complain? But, also, who says that my sadness is not valid? That my frustrations are trivial? Like everyone, I am in this, too. Why am I not allowed to feel anything?
I’m writing this for those of us who are not fighting the obvious battles but are also feeling the devastation of this crisis. I see your struggles and your pain. I feel you.
Till this ends, all we can do is hope for the best. We can promise our kids that one day, when this is all over, we’ll go back to their favorite swing on the playground. We’ll be able to visit Lola and Lolo and give them a big hug and beso whenever we want. They can share what they’ve learned from their online classes; Lola and Lolo will be so proud.
We can promise them one day, they’ll be able to go outdoors without a mask. But until then, all we can do is just hug our kids extra tight and cherish all this extra time we all have together. Because if there’s anything we’ve learned from this pandemic, it’s that time is precious. Let’s make the most of it while we can.