My partner moves through a circuit workout in the small living room of our apartment where there is just enough space for a yoga mat with an equal amount of bare floor next to it.  With his earbuds in, a round of pushups is punctuated by some spirited air-guitar riffs, which makes me giggle from the kitchen.  

I take my bowl of cereal and coffee to the balcony. I bring my computer, and my partner’s small, white dog Nico follows me. Nico loves bananas and there are bananas in my cereal. He is counting on me to share a few slices with him. Which is a safe bet, and we both know it. 

The apartment is on the second floor, and the balcony overlooks two rows of parked cars, and pretty standard, lush, floridan landscaping. A big oak tree five or six feet from the balcony railing is a popular stomping ground for plump, busy squirrels. Nico and I watch them climb high, and scurry back down. The squirrels often pause, their white bellies hugging tight to the bark, and watch us, watching them. I momentarily wish I was as oblivious (and immune) to all things COVID-19 as my current, furry company. 

I sigh loudly. 

I am in the practice now of reminding myself many times a day that I am safe.  Safe in this moment, here on the balcony. Safe in this body that feels strong. Safe in this mind however understandably anxious it may be. Reminding myself that right here, right now, I am truly OK. 

I spread my toes on the warm wood of the balcony boards, and close my eyes. I let my awareness register different layers of sound that fill the air this morning. Bird chirps, a leaf blower somewhere in the distance, a car pulling out, the hum of the air conditioning unit. Leaves gently scuttling the sidewalk below. The sound of my breath, steady beneath it all. Coming and going. In and out. 

‘I am safe’, I say to myself audibly. Worry is such an asshole. It hijacks even the tiniest, most mundane moments lately. 

My mind sweeps the contents of our kitchen cupboards, and then the fridge. Getting groceries earlier this week had been challenging as the stores shelves had been nearly bare.  After two unsuccessful evening shopping attempts, an early morning grocery run on Tuesday was a winner. The feeling in the small grocery store was guarded and tense. Though patrons and employees feigned tight smiles, there was a palpable sense that a snap by any one person could ignite panic throughout.  ‘We are all working hard to ‘act’ civilized’ I thought to myself, as my own edgy, primal survival instincts pressed increasingly close to the surface of my outwardly calm veneer.

And those primal survival instincts are EXACTLY what has my fear flickering like a fritzy lightbulb in a horror movie. I’m not all that worried about contracting the Coronavirus – I’m healthy, 38 years young, not immune suppressed. Likely, I would be just fine. What has my nerves frayed is the thought of whole communities, cities, nations losing their inner battles to keep ACTING civilized.  Here in 2020, we are a long long way away from our hunter-gatherer roots. A distant road from the days where we, as a population, were in tune with our primal selves.  Quite the opposite, we have been raised suppressing our primal selves. Our primal selves feel awfully fucking foreign, and truthfully, I’m not sure I trust present-day-us as a primal collective. 

“When forced to survive in an apocalyptic world, there are some characters that embrace their higher selves, emerging as natural-born leaders, and others succumb to their more base and primal selves and basically transform into savages. It’s a really fascinating character study in the exploration of the human psyche.” – Laurie Holden (The Walking Dead)

So what happens when the primitive survival instincts of whole cities, states, and countries kick in at the same time? 

So far we have seen toilet paper hoarding, and grocery stockpiling…. Amazon’s estimated delivery time for hand sanitizer is May 1-22. My local Publix now has a staff member delegated to wiping down carts as the sanitizing wipes stations had to be removed when whole rolls of wipes were repeatedly stolen out of the dispensers. And did we all see the snaking lines out of gun shops in California this week?  Gun sales across the United States are rising to new heights as uncertain Americans exert their second amendment right to bear arms.

Collective sanity is cracking at the seams. And to me, that’s scarier shit than the virus itself. 

As we steadily relinquish layers of life as we know it, “normal” has kinda gone out the window. Uncertainty is apparent, and we are all grasping to adapt on the fly. Let’s have a closer look at some of what we are collectively experiencing: 

• We have been unable to buy toilet paper for over two weeks now, and access to food is different than what we are accustomed to. This unavailability of ‘things we take for granted’ is a rattling jolt of a new COVID-reality.

• We are isolated with our families/loved ones. Or maybe we are isolated alone. Either way, this forced togetherness/aloneness could rattle even the soundest mental health. 

• Our workplaces and small businesses are closing doors in droves. There are lay offs and there is lost income. And overhead. And bills. And rent, and groceries. And there is worry. So much worry.

• We may now be working from home, and caring for families simultaneously.

• Or we are artists, healers, independent contractors, or workers in the gig community whose income depends exactly on humans gathering together. And we have no access to employment insurance. 

• Many of our support systems and community gatherings are cancelled.

• People everywhere are saying ‘read a book!’, ‘exercise’, or ‘organize your closet’, and that can feel like trying to pretend this isn’t happening. And that this isn’t hard.

• Lastly, the busy-ness most of us cling to and define ourselves by is suddenly gone. Leaving us largely alone, with what’s left of ourselves when all the little tornadoes of activity we surround ourselves constantly with cease to exist. And we may not really like who’s left standing there in the settling dust. Oh hello, self. It’s been a while. 

We are collectively very uncomfortable AND inconvenienced.

Local, state-wide, national, and global response to COVID-19 is requiring we change. And real change is pretty hard for us creatures of habit to come by, isn’t it?  Coronavirus has come about so quickly we haven’t had much time to prepare.  The foreseeable future feels like a giant question mark. With so much unknown, it’s completely natural to search for ways to feel in control.

We all want to have some sort of agency over our lives and well-being. 

We all want to be healthy. We all want to be safe.

We all want our loved ones to be healthy and safe. 

Could ‘agency’ be an important key to some sustained sanity here? Agency is defined as our ability to act or intervene in a way that produces a desired effect. In what ways can we take action in our own lives to cultivate a deeper sense of personal security? Here are a few idea:

• Personal hygiene is a good one. Have that shower. Comb that hair. Revisit pre-isolation toiletry routines to connect to a base sense of sanity. As we “put ourselves together” we gain a feeling of being ready & able.
  
• Self-care. We are not here to win any isolation awards for productivity.  Can we instead allow ourselves to be present as we experience this COVID rollercoaster of events? Can we lie down when we feel emotionally weary? Can we honor what is coming up for us in this imposed stillness?
• Nature. Fresh air, trees, weeds in sidewalk cracks, clouds. Fat, clueless squirrels. Pets. All fantastic ways to give ourselves much needed resets. As many times a day as we need to, step out, shift focus, breathe.
• Movement.  Moving our bodies releases endorphins and we can all benefit from a few more of those – can I get an AMEN?
• Meditation. Close your eyes. Notice sounds. Try an app like Calm or Insight Timer. Get guided on IGTV or YouTube. A bit of space between thoughts sounds refreshing, am I right?
• Community. Bless the internet. It’s easier than ever to connect virtually with likeminded communities. There is a plethora of groups gathering on platforms like Instagram, Facebook, and Zoom offering support and/or instruction in just about any area of interest you might have – music, fitness, religion, spirituality, writing, cooking, business, what to do while self-isolating. You name it, there are people geeking out about it and they would love you to join them.
• Get ahead of debt. Contact credit cards or landlords to discuss possible solutions, stopgaps, or how to handle changes in income.
• Get creative. Can you take a portion of what you do online?
• Support local businesses or companies who is in need, struggling, or attempting to take their services online. Now more than ever, if we have the means, supporting local is crucial.
• Give back. One of the best ways I know to generate feelings of well-being is to give to or care for someone in need. If you have the mental/physical/emotional bandwidth to spare, check in with neighbors, family, or friends who may struggle during self-isolation. A text, a phone call, a bag of groceries.  If you are struggling, allow yourself to ask for and receive support.  We need each other more than ever.
• Check with local charities.  Are there items or supplies you can donate? Are you willing to foster an animal in need? Many shelters are getting an influx of pets from owners who are no longer able to care for them due to job & income loss. A pet or foster can work wonders lowering anxiety and making sure you get some beneficial nature, movement, companionship.
• Apply for assistance. It’s a scary time when our ability to generate income is taken away or changed completely. There are local, statewide, and national assistance programs being offered and developed to respond to COVID-19. Look up assistance programs regarding unemployment benefits, stimulus subsidies, Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, and take the time to apply.  

Looking for areas of our lives where we have agency – where we can exert our ability to take action – is a real way to foster the sensation of being grounded. It is my hope that as we intervene in our own lives we feel steadier, saner, more able to accept change, and embrace our discomfort. Moment by moment, we can assure ourselves that we are in fact safe, right here, right now.