It’s the end of the world as we know it

and I feel fine?

How could I not have this song running through my head these days on an almost continuous loop? Maybe it’s a Gen X thing.

The last time I had a therapy appointment in person on March 12 we talked about how things were moving to telemed, about the stocking up I’d been doing since late January to prepare for possible quarantine and how I would deal with being in the middle of a pandemic as a person with multiple medical issues that put me in the high risk category.

“How do you feel now that the apocalypse you been preparing for your entire life has finally arrived?” my therapist asked. Still thinking about that. My tentative conclusion? Apocalypse, in one form or another, has surrounded me all my life. Is this one really all that different? At least this time I’ve got a roof over my head, food on the table and I don’t need to leave the house and deal with the wider world.

My maternal grandparents lived through World War II in Ukraine, Poland, Germany and spent time in Nazi work camps, specifically the coal mines in Westphalia and I’m not sure where else. It never occurred to me to define them as Holocaust survivors, we’re not Jewish, but the youngling was doing homework the other day and according to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, they count. They lost 2 children during the war but managed to walk out with each other and their eldest child. They were so much luckier than so many. My mother was born in a DP camp in West Germany years after the war and came to the United States as a baby with the rest of the family. They might have left the war and the old country behind but they never really escaped.

Grandmother’s house was a horders paradise. Nothing was ever thrown out. When you’ve gone without like she did you can’t really blame her for holding onto every little thing. You never know when you might need it.

I have a hard time getting rid of things too. I’m not as bad as my grandmother, or even my mother, but for me objects contain almost all my memories. Without the thing I lose the ability to recall the memory. I don’t live in a horders house by any measurement, I’ll just never run out of things to read.

I hate to shop so I’d rather do it in big trips and then be done for a while. In many ways I’ve been prepping for the ‘poclaypse most of my adult life; whether that apocalypse be a snowstorm or a temporary absence of funds. I have the space and don’t like not being able to bake or cook whatever comes to mind when the mood strikes.

Once they locked down Wuhan I knew shit was about to get serious. I’m a historian. I know what happened during the 1918-1919 flu pandemic. My youngling’s great great grandparents on their dad’s mother’s side died during the flu epidemic. This history is personal. Hell, I’ve got this bit of history hanging right up over my desk as I sit here typing.

The end of January was when my thinking started moving away from typical high level anxiety about the general state of my universe and shifting into oh shit, how do I deal with this? The last few years have been lean and the cabinets were bare but I’ve got credit and used it for a solid month to build back up the supplies. I figured, even if it all magically disappeared like some were saying it would, I just wouldn’t have to go shopping for a while.

By the end of February I was advised by multiple doctors to isolate. This wasn’t difficult for an introvert like myself. I’m not out and about much on a regular basis and once the stocking up was done I was okay with just going to work and coming home. There was one last trip to the library but I was already there doing some research for a side job. Once the youngling’s school closed down that was it. No more going out. We’ve been home since March 13 except for 2 trips to the pharmacy drive through. If it can’t be delivered to the doorstep, we’ll live without it.

I’m in an online mom group for people with traumatic pasts. Many of us have commented on how we’re oddly calm. In many ways, life and death situations are the norm for us. I’ve always been great in a crisis, it’s the day to day life I have trouble with. When things are calm I sit here waiting for the next shoe to drop, the bombs to fall, the loved one to say horrible things, get up and walk away. That’s been my experience of life.

But I can also see where I’m so much luckier than so many. I’ve got a house I love so much I never want to leave it on a regular day. There’s food on the table, another human being to talk with, share meals with and even watch a show or movie with at the end of the day. So many aren’t so fortunate.

This disease may end up killing me but for now I’m safe and so are my two younglings and that’s all that really matters. All I can deal with is today, what’s in front of me. Not what’s to come. That’s still too nebulous.

Who knows, maybe the fever induced by this virus will bring about a new era. My youngest and I have been having conversations about this as she works her way through history homework. Discussing how the Gilded Age lead to reforms that were paused by the wars and Great Depression and then came to fruition in the 1950’s and 60’s with a golden age for the middle class. Now that we’re in a new gilded age one can only wonder what will come about after this time apart. The delivery person, those stocking shelves in the grocery store, the teacher and the medical staff are just as important as any of us and in this time of trouble it’s so much easier to see that. Everyone has a place in society and deserves to have a fair slice of the societal pie. We can have hope for the future and work towards a more equal society in the days to come.

Once we finally put on pants again of course.