It’s been a while, dear reader, please forgive my “radio” silence. As with the rest of the world, it’s been a trip these last months: months filled with fear, dread, anxiety, disease, death, hope, vaccines, diminishing numbers, fourth waves, more anxiety and a light at the end of the tunnel.

Maybe.

Where to begin.

I have learned so much these past months: I found out that there really are assholes out there that continue to deny the pandemic and refuse the science of vaccines. I found out first-hand that COVID is real, and thanks to my anxiety coupled with my OCD and germaphobia, I make a fantastic COVID home-nurse. I discovered the irony of caring for a COVID-positive patient allowed them back into society, but kept me locked up at home for an additional two weeks, waiting for the other shoe to drop and yet another negative COVID swab.

I discovered very different comfort levels of PPE and hygiene even within my own household. That was weird. I always figured that we would all be on the same page, especially under the same roof. But no, it seems that we are aligned in two camps, that are actually pretty far apart.

I learned that COVID fatigue is super-real, and (especially with these rising fourth-wave numbers and ultra-infections variants ripping through communities again) I feel like everyone has kind of just given up. I guess that’s why not everyone takes up long-distance running: not everyone has the balls to put in the distance. (*Hats off, shout out and a bow down to ALL the first responders who continue to show up day after day, regardless – they don’t have the luxury of begging COVID-fatigue, they just go to work and get on with it.

Personally, I have observed my anxiety arcing in a wide swath that has served as introspective and enlightening for me. I realized when initially wiping down my groceries for Lysol wipes, driving all over town chasing PPE, and compulsively washing my hands until they started bleeding, that I could put a formal name to this behaviour. And by naming it, I could really start to look at it, examine it, turn it over and sit with it. I am sure you would laugh at the notion that I am only just starting my journey of self-realization and discovery of just how bad my anxiety is, (thank you, COVID?) but like it or not, this pandemic has served as a great magnifying glass for more than just the holes and inconsistencies in our social construct.

The upside of this, coupled with all sorts of wonderful publicly offered coping tools during the pandemic, is that I have started to unofficially seek help. Serious help. Self-reflective help. Research. Participating in anxiety studies with UBC, and discovering the amazing My Anxiety Plan Canada (they have one for KIDS too!) are tools I am gathering in my toolkit. I want to do the work. I need to do the work.

You may laugh at my total, utter lack of self-reflection up until this point, but I am only just realizing now, (at forty-something) this year, that I have experienced panic attacks for years, complete with sweats, chills, heart palpitations, blurred vision and breathing difficulties. They aren’t fun. My paralyzing “deer in headlights” moments throughout my life have irreparably altered my course of decision making, self-advocacy and direction. I have always been more comfortable behind the scenes, tongue-tied, people-pleasing, rule-following and backpedaling when faced with bullies and gaslighters: obsequious to a ridiculous and obviously unhealthy degree. But I am working on it. I am working on me. This isn’t to say that I never stand up, say something, or take a stand – just most of the time, when I need a little more time to process and take stock.

I have only just begun to do the work: I look forward to more insights, better tools, and a clearer view of who I am, and what my voice sounds like when I am fully shutting down my anxiety. Stay tuned…

Thank you, COVID?