This virus thing is overwhelming
It feels like a storm in a teacup right up until it doesn’t.
Moment to moment, hour to hour, things are normal. A bit quiet in the car park at work perhaps. But basically fine. The sun is shining. I can hear birds. Some children are playing outside my office in Camberwell as I walk to my car. I know what we’re having for dinner. I’m really struggling to feel like this invisible threat is real.
People are real though. Their actions have consequences. My actions have consequences.
I went to work today but I don’t know if this was responsible or irresponsible. I also bought a lot of groceries on the weekend and I feel faintly guilty.
Mid last week I was laughing off the panic. Geez people will get excited over nothing! It's all a bit of a media beat-up. Storm in a tea cup. I was at a cafe on Brunswick St with two friends and my partner on Wednesday evening. I felt a bit bad because the experience was actually better because of the virus: easy to get a table, super attentive service, not feeling rushed to give up the table to the next group.
Then on Friday morning I read this article: Corona virus: Why you must act today
That was when everything changed for me. I actually had a teeny tiny little emotional outburst at work: my team was given the option to work remotely and everyone decided it would slow the project down too much. I didn't push it - the team is pretty democratic and I wasn’t sure enough of myself - but I actually started to feel all fluttery in my chest and went outside. I was feeling upset and couldn’t work out why. So I called my partner and found myself in tears - the messy kind with snot and halting breaths. This is not typical behaviour for me. Especially not at work. Quite frankly I was appalled at my emotions. It was fear. And I think it was also guilt that I wasn’t somehow doing more.
As Australians we are taught not to be drama queens. It's in the handbook, right beside 'don't get too big for your britches'. I think it says ‘nobody likes a panic merchant, so pull yourself together, woman'. And in general I think this is pretty reasonable advice: ‘Don't give unnecessary importance to something that you can't change; take responsibility and tough it out. And don't make things difficult for those around you.’
But that article made it very real for me. That's when I realised that this has the potential to be big. That ignoring this because you’re scared to look stupid or attention seeking is actually potentially extremely dangerous.
So on the way home on Friday I did a little shop at a nice IGA that I sometimes go to on Sydney Rd. There was still plenty of stock on the shelves then (except loo paper). But everyone had a slightly sheepish look of 'no, I always buy five packets of pasta late on a Friday night, why do you ask?'. Except those who were just getting one or two items who were looking scornfully at those of us with bigger than normal trollies. But perhaps that was just my conscience.
Then my partner and I did a big shop at the Preston Market on Saturday morning. We bought enough food for many dinners. Just before I started cooking and freezing food I suddenly asked myself: ‘what am I doing this for?’. Is it so that when I get sick and don't feel like cooking I have food? Is it so that I can start self-isolating from today? Is it so that I can drop food around to my older relatives and friends? Is it because I'm scared that all the food will run out?
I found it was a little bit of everything. And that last one was the most confronting because it meant that I had just become part of the problem. I had bought roughly fives times what I normally buy. The laws of supply and demand say that right there I was stockpiling. That others were missing out. I had become the crack-pot American-style ‘prepper’ stereotype that I have mocked and loathed as long as I can remember. I found myself justifying my behaviour to myself ‘well, self-quarantining, or at least being able to self-quarantine, is the socially responsible thing to do, so I need extra food’. And ‘I do have older parents that may need some groceries or meals so I want to be able to give them a hand’.
But honestly, I didn't like what I saw in myself. I was suddenly all about me and mine. Normally I love spreading the love. But normally it’s easy. It’s easy to be magnanimous when you earn an IT salary. It’s easy to be generous when you have plenty yourself. Fear is what makes us selfish.
I think this virus has made me realise that we very rarely have to do anything that requires real courage and generosity. I'm struggling against my baser instincts. I need to find a way to not to be selfish, ideally beyond just caring what happens to my family and closest friends.
I feel tired and I feel overwhelmed but I don’t want become someone I don’t like. This situation is new. We are all learning together. So if you need a container of frozen carrot and lentil soup, let me know.