Not Another Covid Post!

How the Pandemic Changed my Life in 2020

by Andrea Watson | October 23, 2020

Beautiful readers, I am afraid that this actually is another Covid post. The year has flown by and I have yet to talk to anybody about how the pandemic affected me. I am forever changed, and not all the changes have been bad. I have seen glimmers of hope in the last couple of months, and you are a part of that. That said, some of the events that have taken place over the year 2020 have scarred me forever and led to things I regret. Without further introduction, I present to you my very own Covid story.

It Starts

It began in the early morning. I had just woken up and was headed across the grass to my sister’s for coffee and a cigarette, my son lounging independently on the couch playing with my phone. Taking a final look at him, I said, “I’ll be over at aunty’s”. He replied with his usual put-upon “fine”. I shut the door behind me and stumbled across the grass which bore a new path in it since she had moved into my apartment complex.

“It’s spreading. Thousands of more cases over night.” I said to my sister as she opened the door to admit me. “I know,” she replied, “Colorado is a hot spot now” I quailed at that. We have another sister who lives in Colorado Springs and I feared for her already fragile life.

We had our coffee, cigarettes, and dabs in somber silence until I looked at my sister and admitted, “I’m afraid”. “Me too,” she said, reaching for more but falling back silent when words failed her.

Panic Rising

About a month later I stood in the sun mid-morning, talking to my P.O. on the phone. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but my mental health is deteriorating so quickly. I’m so anxious and afraid all the time. Afraid of what will happen if we are all locked down for a long period of time”. I was nearly in tears. I had been smoking pot with my sister for over a month and had just admitted it to my probation officer.

He told me I needed to download an app called Zoom and start going back to meetings, at least three times per week. I made the promise to do so. When we hung up I hopped right on and downloaded the app. Then I started my hunt for meetings.

I hated the whole “God” think with AA so I took another route. I looked for secular options and was pleased when I found one quickly. My first meeting was to take place the next day. I missed it. I missed for a week before I finally jumped in.

I was late for my anti-psychotic injection. Very late. Life had been going at an accelerated pace even though we were in lock down. The anxiety that gripped me day in and day out had not abated. The streets were empty. The shopping center looked like a wasteland. The air stirred, but we humans did not. All was quiet, and tense.

I had started hallucinating again. My voices resumed talking to me as well. I heard my name whispered from empty corners in urgent tones. There was nobody there. No one. Not a soul to hear my pleas, not a set of hands to comfort me. It was me with my thougths, and they ran wild. I lived in perpetual terror.

I feared that if lock down persisted, we would see the breakdown of our society. I feared violent crime, robbery, murder. I felt I had to fortify myself and my son up in our home and stand at the ready, armed and waiting for the intruders to come. I feared the military most of all.

The Hole Goes Deeper

Things had been shut down for what seemed like forever. I was adjusting to this new normal in my own time. Still fearful and on edge, but heavily medicated and kind of able to deal. My best friend had reappeared into my life after a stint away from the world, and I was happier; content to spend time with him.

The mask wars had begun. The rule is we wear masks whenever we go out into public. Some individuals refuse to do this, citing their civil liberties, which is all a crock of shit in my opinion. I wore mine everywhere, and made my son do the same. By this time, it wasn’t even a second thought, it was like the mask had grown into a part of my face.

This is the new normal. Advertisements everywhere began to change to include people wearing masks. I saw this as a harbinger of darker days to come. Days filled with noxious fumes from military grenades used on civilians. Days of martial law. Days of fear.

Portland went up into flames. My daughter lives there. She involved herself in the protests. She was there when they broke into the courthouse and set it ablaze. The first time she called me after returning from the roiling streets, she told me she had been tear gassed and nearly arrested. I sunk deeper into my own mind and the icy grip of fear clenched around my guts afresh.

Is that Light Ahead?

I am fortunate. I have not, as of today, lost anyone to the raging disease that surrounds us. I have not lost a job, for I didn’t have one to begin with. I have, however, lost a good chunk of my sanity and sense of security. Months after the protests ignited the world, I sit at my chilled workspace writing to you.

I have more now than I did when the pandemic broke. I have hope for my son. During this time of no school and endless summer, he has been able to play outside every day. He has made new friends with the neighbor kids and for this I am grateful. He has never really been able to make friends before.

I have my blog, and my content writing. I have my erotica projects and my online course building. These all came to me out of pure boredom and a desire to do something. I am learning to diversify and use social media to my advantage. Today I love what I am doing. Before, there was no doing at all.

I have learned that not every crisis will result in the end of the world. I have learned patience for those who I would not normally tolerate, such as the anti-maskers. I have learned that fear is my greatest enemy, and that I can overcome it by holding on tight and letting it run its course. Best of all, I have picked up a strategy that I use every day to deal with life’s stressors.

My friends, each of us has our own story. Many of us have lost so much during 2020. My heart goes out to those who have lost. I love you, my fellow human. I hope that if you haven’t yet shared your Covid story that you might find the courage to do so. Thank you for reading.

Andrea xo


Published by andrea137

Content writer by day, masked and caped Super Lifestyle and wellness blogger by night, painter, author of short story erotica. Craves attention, loves to engage, all around creative

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