Be Like Vanessa, Not Like Me.

Three weeks into our social isolation project, we are told this is the 'worst week' yet with deaths and diagnoses skyrocketing. So far, whoever 'they' are who said that, are right. It's the worst week yet in terms of number of deaths, for sure, but it's also my worst week yet because I am tired, fed up, out of patience and lacking a certain amount of compassion I used to have.

No doubt everyone is feeling the pinch of something right now; lack of connection, missing people we are closest to. Restricted from parks, recreation, restaurants, stores and most of all, separated from the people we love. Worried about whether there will be any toilet paper or eggs, or butter or something else we use on a regular basis and rely on causes more tension, as lines at the stores lumber along like depression-era bread lines and the bathroom supply shelves as barren when you finally do get inside. I have not been to a store in two weeks.

I have reached the point, in this cruel exercise of austerity and isolation, of claiming not giving a shit. I don't give a shit about my clueless roommate who, without the graces of my well-stocked home, would be wiping his ass with leaves. I am at a loss of patience with people's lack of compassion and gratitude, including my own. I am sick and tired of my sofa, every book I have to read, and anything that is on TV. I am bored by the weeds in my yard and the dog hair on the floor I have to sweep up. I'm sick of peeing because then I have to use toilet paper which is in short supply. In short, I'm sick and tired of everything.

To be honest, this is all just angst and grief, and in all of that, the realization that life is too short, and some people are a waste of time. Enough of the wasted time. I no longer want to deal with people who are selfish, unnecessarily rude, unhelpful, unkind and people who won't smile or say hello, as well as people who aren't self-reflective, which is an awful lot of people I'm afraid. In short, the lack of humanity is making me awfully grumpy.

And yes, I'm an asshole, and probably just like everyone else stuck in this hellhole called Life in a Pandemic, my patience is shorter than usual.

Are you tired? I'm working from home so no commute, taking breaks to get outside for some air here and there, generally taking it easy on myself and having a helluva time sleeping. I am hearing so many others also having sleep issues they never had before. I've had sleep problems for years, but right now has gone beyond that, and I am not alone. I am so fatigued I can't wait to finish my work day and sit here in a stupor, just waiting for another craptastic night in hell so I can move into another day.

Walking the dog is an interesting fun thing, though. There are so few people out, it's like Christmas Day most of the time. A few people here and there, we move away from each other. People with lovely little people, who they corral as far from me and Lola as they can get. One mother waved awkwardly at me and smiled. I smiled back, and I think it was a sad smile. My walks are slow and lingering. I stop to smell the jasmine and the newly blooming roses. I fondle beautiful leaves and admire little overgrown nooks and crannies, hoping to find elves or fairies. My feet are arthritic now, and they hurt, but I have feet and can walk. Blessings.

There are times as I sit here working and hear someone walking past with some little people and I go outside just to see them totter down the sidewalk and say silly kid things. One parent told their miniature person, "Poopsie, you can't pick the flowers in other people's yards!" and I said, "Yes you can! Come pick mine!" and the mom smiled and the kid clutched her California poppy and they moved along.

My next door neighbor has a small one born in late January, so he's a few months old now. Wilder, his name is, has certain times of the day when he wakes up fighting mad. I hear that small person screaming in indignation and he doesn't calm it down until he's exhausted himself. He poops himself out with his neophyte rage, his parents tell me, and then promptly passes out. I find him utterly charming, and sometimes go outside where I can hear him raging away because he is life and life is good.

The little people are going about their business as much as usual if they can. I feel bad for the children who know something is wrong, and life is weird, and they may be acting out and making their parents crazy. We expect kids to be resilient and often forget that they are sensing and feeling everything around them, but God bless them, they just act like life is what it is even when inside they are quaking. Let's not forget that even those who are not able to say it are feeling this situation in their own way. We're all being traumatized to some extent or another.

My friend Vanessa, who passed in mid-March, would have been really tolerant of this weirdness. She would get up and post something about how nice it was to wake up today, and would post a picture of her daily banana (she hated them but had to eat them for potassium) which she would draw a face on and describe the banana's daily mood. She would take a walk once a day, rambling around wherever she happened to be living, and detail occasional meetings with people she ran into. She lived a relatively sheltered existence and not an easy one but she made the most of it. She had overcome many hardships and traumas and yet... and yet, every day she had something positive to say. There was always something good in her experience, even when her life seemed so hard in many ways.

I lost a friend when she died, and this week I lost another, not a close friend, but a friend nonetheless. Another friend had a dramatic emergency surgery, lost a part of their body, and is safely home now. Friends of friends are dying. Some from their illnesses, some from this damned virus. Everyone's life is precious.

In the end, Vanessa did not complain about the cancer that would kill her. She knew it would, said little about it, and her posts were almost 100% positive unless someone made her really mad. She had a son she had given up for an open adoption, is severely autistic, and who she adored. She would catch the bus from Antioch to Oakland with a ton of food she had cooked especially for him0. She baked a cake for a mutual friend, brought it by bus an hour away to deliver to him and his dad out of sheer generosity of heart. When I last saw her, three days before she died, she was as gentle and sweet as she had been before she got sick, but a little fluttery -- she reminded me of a beautiful butterfly, actually. She never said it outright, but she knew she was at the end, and clearly she was at peace with that. She just had a quality about her, you could not not love Vanessa. No, that woman was pure heart.

Here's a lesson: don't hesitate to reach out to someone you love. Don't skip that phone call because you're feeling reclusive and alienated. I'm the most internal, hide under a rock human ever and it's something that I'm just coming to grips with, and it's hard for me to reach out. I push myself. I push myself to find something positive there, I remind myself that everyone is vulnerable. I remind myself that anger and grief and feelings of helplessness right now, and in other times of life, are normal and acceptable. I do know, though, I cannot act out on other people. My mantra: stay kind.

I remind myself to be more like Vanessa. I guess I care after all.

Here's a picture of Vanessa and Xavier Dphrepaulezz, the genius behind Fantastic Negrito. Also a link to Fantastic Negrito's Tiny Desk, which I hope you enjoy as much as I do.