I'm not typically someone who shares journal entries because I've always seen the practice of journaling as sort of a private sanctuary; a place to be alone with my own thoughts without judgment or commentary. But writing has always been cathartic for me and recently, has assumed even more importance in my overall mental health as the process has taken over for the emotional nourishment I used to receive from being around people. So, in lieu of that social interaction, I thought I might share one of my recent journal entries in the hopes that maybe someone else might be able to relate.
Well, here goes nothing.
The world is upside down. I'm feeling lonelier than ever before yet simultaneously craving true alone time to process what's happening. I've never been so terrified yet so hopeful for the future, both my own and of humanity. I'm experiencing gut-wrenching, heart-breaking pain at the international losses of human life and human experience but also unbridled joy at those who are trying to make the most of this time and sacrificing their own wellbeing for the health of others. I am happy to have a chance to slow down but sad that I'm lucky to find such relief at the expense of others.
No one ever taught me how to mourn the loss of my college graduation while being simultaneously elated I'm not dying alone in a hospital with no ventilators.
I miss living with my friends and making mistakes in my final semester of college, privileges I never earned yet felt I deserved. I feel like I'm being suffocated by the noise of it all. The noise made by the idiots marching outside for their "freedom." Should I be more scared of the neo-nazis I see on TV or of a virus invisible to my eyes? The noise of professors saying they understand the difficulties of the situation without changing their expectations to reflect any truth value in that statement. The noise of the people on the news who don't really know much themselves but are paid to both assuage and stoke our fears depending on who you ask. The noise of the hourly death tolls and the "presidential" briefings and the people in sweatpants and the hypocrisy of those who hate socialism begging for stimulus checks and the statistics of sadness that appear to take new forms every few minutes. It's all so loud I can barely hear myself think, let alone the people speaking over one another during my shitty Zoom call.
How do I resent the triviality of writing a paper on a novel I hated while also being grateful that my problems don't revolve around life or death and the simple fact that I have access to education at all?
Seriously. I am genuinely asking because I don't know the answer and I'd love some advice. If you're not sure either, maybe you can tell me how to cope with not-coping at all, despite knowing that these fears have been the commonplace reality for so many people for so long. As a Jewish woman, how do I avoid diminishing my frustrations in comparison to Anne Frank while also recognizing that I will hopefully never endure anything close to what she did? No one seems to have any good answers to my questions.
I am panicked that there doesn't seem to be a logical guidebook for the reality that I am most likely thinking about my next TV binge and the nurses who were harassed at today's protests in the same train of thought. There is both enormity and insignificance everywhere I turn and nothing to do about the incompatibility of both existing together.
How does one cope with inaction being the best form of action? In so many ways, as a people, we must reconfigure the way we think about our lives which brings its own struggles. But once again, I cannot help but notice that those struggles pale in comparison to the hardships an 82-year-old woman must be facing as she attempts to navigate the self-check-out line alone at the grocery store during senior hours.
The world is upside down and I'm drowning in the contradictions of it all. But at least I'm drowning in the comfort of my childhood bedroom, right?
xx, lindz
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