PANDEMIC PERSPECTIVES

PARANOIA

Beware:This chapter might trigger attacks or  cause a set back to your carefully constructed positive mindset. If you think you can handle it, you can read on.

I just want to lock myself up in a closet and cry. 

Overwhelmed 

Paranoid.

I frantically walk into the nearest room, which happens to be our bedroom and slam the door shut.

With trembling hands I open the closet and put my head in, feeling the soft cotton pressing into me like a hug. The comforter soaks up my tears, so that no trace of it is left behind when I finally feel strong enough to move. 

My voice splits  into a broken wail, the pain needing a release, threatening to break me in an attempt to be free. I  take in  shuddering breaths that barely let me inhale, but  end up  choking. Hot tears leaking through my eyes in swivel eyed panic, increase in flow as I hacked uncontrollably for a few minutes. My hands squeeze the fabric hard until I can almost feel  the flesh of my palm through the material, and I tilt my head back a bit for the coughing to ebb away. Each part of my body pains,  my hair feels like its peeling the scalp away with its deadweight. Amidst this cocoon of torment, I  barely feel a furry tail curling around my right leg.

I hear the faint murmur of a man droning about the Convid updates on the telly through the closed door, coupled with the shrieking of my children as they argue, and my anxiety spikes up.

I can't do this. 

The thundering of the blood rushing through my body physically hurts me and stark pain pierces  on my left. I open my eyes in agony, but all I see is darkness. Panicked, my hands push the body away from the closet as I scramble to see and stumble on a paw, causing him to yelp and scamper. Black metamorphs into white flashes. 

"Where are you, Timmy?! Im sorry!" Hands and legs move in an artless eclectic dance, trying to find him through temporarily turbid eyes in a chunderous fashion.

Bile rises up my throat. Blindly turning into the vague direction of my bathroom, hands feeling the space ahead, I fumble across the room, stopping when I feel a hard wooden wall. I move my hands in search of the familiar handle and throw the door open, just in time to throw up. Hair matted to my face, drizzling sweat mixing with my tears and stray vomit clings to me. I feel disgusted. 

 I dry heave- cry.  

The shortness of breath, aches throughout my body for the past few days, tiredness...Im going to die. I can feel it. 

I can't. Do. This.

"Please. Someone help me." 

Im on my knees, trying to stand up. But my eyes are still not supporting me and I slip. My clothes are ruined. Im full on bawling now. Suddenly, I feel fur touching my face. Two legs on my shoulder "Woof!" I push the dog away. Im filthy. I fold my knees underneath me and bury my hands in my face. He comes back, roaming around me, nails clicking along tiles. I keep feeling light brushes all over my body after short intervals, while I continue to cry.

I. hiccup. Cant. hiccup hiccup. D-doo-o this.

After some time, sobs turn to whimpers; my vision slowly  coming back. I turn to look at where he sat down a while ago; his body sprawled half and out of the bathroom, and his soulful eyes stare right back. My body convulsed with hiccups as I try to calm down and stand on my shaky legs, remove my soiled tee to  reveal the slip, and turn to the basin to  wash my hands and face. Feeling a a bit stablized, I pull him into the room and give him a semi wash, and he rigorously shakes the droplets out while I secure a towel for him to dry.  Dropping the sopping wet cloth, I firmly yet  gently pushed  him with his punk hair, out the door as he whines. "Im alright now buddy. Im okay." I coo at him  when he tries to come near me. I shut the door and lean against it, letting out a sigh as I looked at the messy bathroom; drawing out strength for this needlessly additional task, the familiar routine of work grounding my emotions. 

.

.

.A clean washroom and a quick shower later, I leave the room, soft tendrils of fog escaping with me as I step out to the greeting dog , wrapped in a robe with a turban towel on my head and a drained mind. I felt a little more like myself.  Patting his head I brush my fingers through his furn fondly. My companion.

Knock knock.

"Mummy? Why aren't you coming out?" A tentative voice flowed through the door.

I paused.

"Im sorry I fought with Alia. I was wrong. Please come out." A few more knocks decorated the door, as Sawyer's voice started becoming frantic, and I hurriedly changed into my clothes before crossing the room.

Taking in a deep breath,  I open the door.

Tiny hands wrap around my stomach, his head coming up to my shoulder. "Mummy, are you okay?" He looked up at me. With a faint smile I squeeze his shoulder "So this means I wont hear another peep out of both of you?" Raising an eyebrow at both my kids. My second one had come running from the living room with my husband trailing behind as soon as they heard the door open. My four legged family slinked away into another room.

"Maybe not today." Sawyer added sheepishly and Alia fervently nodded.

I chuckled inwardly. Well, that was as good as it was going to get. I'll take it.

I share a smile with my husband at their cheekiness. A moment later, his face becomes impassive, concern reflecting in his eyes. He cocks his head in question and my smile becomes pained. I nodded. Later. I mouth.

"Well come on then. The kids and I set up the table. Lets go eat some lunch!"

Letting out a whoop, the little hands started tugging me towards the living area, chatting a dozen words a minute as they described who did what, in excitement.

The television had been switched to Netflix, now playing  Anne with an E, a new obsession of mine. My heart warmed at their efforts to ease my pain.

Im ok. This will pass.

Note-

We know the isolation is for our own good, but news and seeing big personalities fall like jenga, causes disruption in our minds. Seeing life as a frail thing whose light can be blown out with a wiff. Feeling contained, depressed by the uncertain murky future 

But it will pass. We need to comfort each other when overwhelmed. Its natural. No matter how spacious or small your house is, you will feel contained. Since we can't avoid it, we can only try to make this inevitable feeling a little easier to take and try to get out of it faster. Please spend time with your pets or a friend, someone different (a person who is just there), when  familiarity becomes suffocating. Make a breathing place for yourself