It’s April 24th, a little over a month of confinement. I’ve gone through a few emotional stages, starting with disbelief. I didn’t want to actually give in to this madness, thinking it’s just a flu, we all get sick and we all get better. However, I think it came to a point where I definitely backtracked my such assertive decisions. I actually got really sick - my asthma kicked up and I had a nasty cough. Sometimes I realize I may have hypochondriac ways, but it got so severe I saw a lung specialist and was upped the dosage of my inhalers and types of since I am at-risk with a lowered immune system having an autoimmune disease, Hashimotos.
Once confined, it went away and I was back to breathing normally. Whether or not it was Covid-19, I don’t know (I can’t do needles and blood tests), but it was nevertheless scary. I think the confinement is necessary to stop the spread and put at-risk people with autoimmune deficiencies. So here we are…
I’ve become habituated, I think. I miss my friends, I miss going out to my usual watering holes (hey Mezcalaria) and restaurants, but it’s a thing of the past at this point. I have realized how high maintenance I am, nails, nair, waxes…it’s an upkeep. I also realize how much frivolous spending one can do. So quarantine has taught me to live with what I have without the extras, and it’s possible. I’ve hit a rather serene moment at this point. Read, 45 minute workout, quick clean up, play with the cat, make food, get some work done, organize whatever I can, sleep and repeat.
I think the happiest of campers is my cat. I say cat but he’s definitely more like a dog. He likes long walks on his leash, play fetch, he knows ‘assis"‘ (sit) and “donne la patte” (paw). He has dog-like tendancies like getting super excited as soon as I get home after a long day (when long days were a thing), wakes you up to play, and my favorite, follows you around everywhere you go. Chacha is a Bengal, he comes from the leopard family hence his unique markings. This race of cat is hypo-allergnic, which has saved me as I’m v allergic to cats otherwise. His saliva has a slightly different type of protein that is considered less allergenic than regular cat saliva protein. In any case, my funky-eyed-dog-like-cat is my child.
I did pass my 28th birthday in confinement. Maybe i’ll write about this in another blog, but I’m dreading turning 30. I’m fully aware that 30 is still young and the best years are maybe still ahead of me, but I have this irrational fear of turning 30 and saying goodbye to my 20’s. As if everything worthwhile is supposed to happen in your 20’s and I’m still feeling like I haven’t checked off all the boxes. Does anybody feel the same? I think as a woman the pressure is possibly higher. “You’re getting older, when are you having kids?” “It’s about time to start thinking about a family” “When are you going to have kids?” I really can’t listen to it anymore, as if I’m here to reproduce. Maybe it’s my innate fear of having kids or being pregnant that subconsciously reminds me time is ticking but 35 with kids is still young, no? It’s not even a discussion I want to go through, it’s not something that appeals to me. I’m newly 28 and still trying to enjoy what’s left of my 20’s.
xx