On the space between acknowledging privilege and hatred in trying times.
A couple weeks ago, I found myself sitting on my bed one night, limbs shaking with pent-up emotion, and I did what I rarely think to do but what almost always helps when I finally actually do it: I wrote. And as I wrote, I let myself express something I’ve been hiding somewhere deep beneath my ribs. I hate this situation.
Yes, things could be so, so much worse. I am privileged to have a nice house to stay in because Mom could afford to keep it after moving The Grandparents into assisted living, meaning the two of us don’t have to constantly be stuck on top of each other in a 750-square-foot apartment in the city. I am privileged that I have access to everything I need, and some more that I want. I am lucky that Mom has a stable job, even in these times, and that The Grandparents’ assisted living accommodations haven’t hosted a single case of COVID-19. These are the things I’ve kept on the tip of my tongue, the words I’ve perched between my teeth so they can fly out whenever I think about isolation.
But that hasn’t been my only experience. And I have to acknowledge that this situation, being stuck at home every day when going out is one of the things I enjoy most in life, hasn’t been all rosy. I have to make space in my stomach to hold all the negativity that simmers when I think about what the end of this school year, what this summer, could have been. Alongside the positivity and the privilege must sit the hatred that this is the situation we now have to live in.
I am allowed to acknowledge both the privilege and the negativity. And so are you.
How has your experience with reactions to isolation been? Leave a comment!
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