words about words

Confession: I think I may be getting a little TOO acclimated to not leaving the house.

I mean, sure, nature is out there, and I am grateful for it. But out there is where the people are. And unlike Ariel, I do not want to be where they are or see them dance. Unfortunately, I have learned from our recent election that there are MILLIONS of complete racist, sexist, selfish, bigoted assholes in our country. And if you’re white and were born here, they may seem perfectly nice. But they aren’t. If you are okay with racists, you are a racist. Period.

It’s just creepy to be in a store (the grocery store and the craft joint are the only places I’ve visited in FOREVER) and know that behind half of the masks are people who think having your children ripped from your arms is a reasonable price to pay for crossing the border illegally. That think black people should be held to an entirely different standard in dealing with police. That people marching for civil rights are a fair target for teargas.

I kind of thought some of this bewildered rage would dissipate after the election. But, those hateful selfish people aren’t going away. They live among us! And even if they weren’t cool with elderly and immune-compromised folks being sacrificed on the altar of robust stock market, they honestly scare me.

In many ways, this first year of the Pandemic has been a blessing for me personally.

  • My family unit did not self-destruct. I believe we are closer and stronger than we were in February.
  • I wrote. A little bit.
  • I’ve finally learned to be completely present. (what else can you do when the future is a big blank?)
  • Since we couldn’t travel, we spent our money on shit that needed doing around the house: trees trimmed, gutters cleaned, windows washed, closet and pantry made over.

Meanwhile, instead of chomping at the bit to get out and see people and do things, I’m pretty okay in here. I’ve learned to live without needing to leave the house, and so I no longer want to leave the house. It’s to the point where, if I have an appointment which requires my physical presence, I feel particularly put out. How DARE you ask me to leave my safe, warm, cocoon.

Is this how agoraphobia begins? You don’t have any need to leave your house and then eventually you don’t want to leave and finally you’re too terrified to leave?

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