Lockdown

It's June of 2020 - Connecticut's COVID-19 number of positive cases is going down, while the rest of the country is preparing for another lockdown. I'm pretty sure everyone here in the nutmeg state knows that we will likely be facing another lockdown too - eventually.

This wasn't my first lockdown, though the last one was self-imposed. I didn't lockdown with intention after Max died. It just sort of happened. This second lockdown has reminded me of the first lockdown in several notable ways - toilet paper overload, grocery deliveries, some serious contemplation about whether it was safe to leave my house, and a real resistance to mask wearing.

A few days after Max died, a friend came over with about 12 large rolls of paper towels and probably twice as much toilet paper. "You're gonna need this", she said...though none of us really understood exactly why. I remember my mother in law giving me a sideways glance that actually made me laugh  - her eyes were saying "we've had a death in the family, what do we need this much toilet paper for?". But then the shiva began (the days of mourning during which Jewish tradition is to open your home to all of those who wish to come and pay respects), and the toilet paper started rolling. People sent deli platters and brought over casseroles, and the paper towels got used as napkins and for clean up. Those paper goods were essential to maintaining my sanity in the early days - I shudder to think of having to have made a supermarket run to buy more for me or my several hundred guests. I wasn't even sure I really wanted to have the shiva at all. The grocery store was a terrible reminder of how life used to be - mundane, uncomplicated, and ordinary. I hated going there. It made me feel like an alien.

I've written before about the produce guy, who had a baby of his own around the same time as we had Max. We'd always chat about our babies. He'd coo over mine and show me photos of his. I DREADED seeing him after Max died. I couldn't imagine anything worse than having to tell this guy that I only connected with because of our babies that my baby had died. So I stopped going to the supermarket all together. Forget the fact that the market was filled with all sorts of other emotional landmines - the baby section filled with Gerbers jars and packs of diapers, babies in carts rolling around with their parents (the WORST!), and the empty pit in my stomach knowing that I was shopping for two - buying the essentials for two people who were barely alive anymore. Cooking and eating and shopping wasn't some casual task anymore - the market was a place that I went to and felt immediately aware of how gigantic the world was around me - how small and insignificant I was- how apart from the rest of the world I had become. I couldn't wait to get back home to the safety of my couch. I started ordering groceries for delivery pretty early on and didn't look back for a LONG time.

The thing is - it feels unsafe to be out in the world when you have PTSD, which is what I had. I know that I was suffering with a really really bad case and I was SUFFERING for so long. I felt unsafe all of the time. I felt like everyone I knew was unsafe for a long time. When people would announce that they were pregnant, I would think "I hope your baby doesn't die" (but I'd say "YAY! Congratulations!" because I am not a monster). When someone I cared about went on vacation, I'd think that there was a pretty good possibility that they would never come back. When Ted went out to walk the dogs at night, I was pretty sure he was going to be murdered in the neighborhood. But, (and this part is going to be as hard to read as it is for me to write), I was SURE that I would be fine - and that I was put on this earth to watch everyone I love die because the person I had waited for the longest and loved the most just had. I believed that god was punishing me. PTSD isn't logical - it's the opposite. I wanted to die, so I knew I wouldn't. I wanted everyone I loved to live - so that felt impossible. Again, don't try to follow the logic - you will get lost. The point is that the outside world felt unsafe and scary and completely chaotic. My own house didn't feel a whole lot better but maybe a smidge easier. Laying on my couch all day, every day felt the safest. I control what's on the tv, I control who I let in (and try to control who I let out), I get to cry all day if I want and don't have to worry about being seen or judged. I didn't want to wear the mask of normalcy: to make small talk with a smile when my insides were drying up and dying. The outside world was scary as shit and I wanted no part of it. I refused to wear that mask for wears. I didn't want to make myself uncomfortable for the sake of everyone else's comfort (sound familiar?)

Years have passed - nine since Max died. My PTSD is so much more under control now (though there are a few strange idiosyncrasies that have lingered (see previous post). I have used so many methods to get me to where I am today (EMDR was probably the best at bringing the PTSD down to a manageable level - more on that another time). But people, this pandemic! It is powerful. I am not just talking about the rising rate of infection and all of those months of lockdown, but also the fear of being around someone unsafe, or in an unsafe place, and having to face all of these unknowns day after day and day. It's taking a toll on all of us - even those of us living in Connecticut - one of two states where the rate of infection is declining - woot woot! (as of today - who knows where we will be next week or next month). Listen, my emotional state is not so fragile anymore. I mostly feel like a warrior. I am not worried that I will die because I've already faced and dealt with my own mortality and I'm good with it. But the feeling that I cannot control what happens to my kids or my husband or our parents is real and floods me with the memories of my last period of chaos and lack of control.

PTSD felt like having my guard up ALL OF THE TIME. I thought that if I wasn't watching carefully for every possibility of danger, I might miss something - like I missed whatever it was that caused Max to die. I was on high alert always and it was exhausting. Then, slowly, gradually, over so much time, I let my guard down. These day I even sometimes "sleep in" (until 7 or 7:30) while my children run around the house doing god only knows. That is the ultimate evidence to me that my guard is down and while it scares the crap out of me - it is also so liberating. I didn't have to wear the mask of normalcy anymore. For the most part, I feel "normal".

Liberating is exactly how this summer feels. After months of lockdown and homeschooling, we are going to the beach, to the lake, having social distancing get togethers - we even have a quaranteam (people that we hang out with - mostly outdoors - who we are more relaxed about social distancing with). We've probably all let our guards down too soon and there are definitely too many of us who aren't keeping our guards up because we just want it to be over. Here are my suggestions based on my previous lockdown experience - stock up on toilet paper (there's plenty of it now), get your groceries delivered or be very careful when you are out in public, and give lots of thought to whether it is actually safe outside. It may not be  today - but eventually it will be again. And for the love of god - please wear a mask when it makes sense. If you don't want to wear one (which I totally get), stay home.