I am in my fifth week of coronavirus stay-at-home circumstances. The first four weeks actually didn’t feel so different from normal. I can go weeks without seeing friends in person, and my family does not live close. But this week my work circumstances changed, and it’s a problem.
Let me be clear. I am supremely grateful to have a job right now. I am a government consultant, and my contract was up for re-bid at the end of March (great timing, right?). At first, we were supposed to hear a decision around April, 10th, but the client decided to push the date back to June 30 in light of coronavirus limitations. My employer has kindly agreed to keep my team on until then, but the work they have for us is triggering some previously unaddressed (because it is mild) social anxiety.
For the next 11 weeks we will be answering help desk calls. I hate answering the phone. I always have. It feels the same as some other personality quirks I have: I won’t go into a bar alone, even to wait for my friends; I only eat alone at a restaurant if it’s a diabetes emergency; and I have never seen a movie by myself. Ever. When I was in high school, I ate lunch in a teacher’s room because my middle school was outside of the neighborhood, and it took a while to make friends. I’m sure it is related to re-learning how to walk while recovering from meningitis paralysis. People made no attempt to hide that they were staring at me, and I felt it keenly when I was six and seven. That feeling has stayed with me.
I can be outgoing when I am in control, but who knows what the stranger on the other end of that phone line wants? From the moment I heard that this was what we would be doing, my ever-present but not-too-bad coronavirus anxiety was amplified to what I hear others are dealing with – sleeplessness, stomach aches, and this morning, nausea. I had to wait a couple of hours to brush my teeth because why poke that bear if you don’t have to?
The only silver lining is that it hasn’t affected my blood sugars much. At least not yet. Stress can make my blood sugars soar, and make me more insulin resistant at the same time, which makes treating the high that much harder. I’m not sure what I will do if that starts to happen. Eleven weeks (55 workdays, 440 hours . 26,400 minutes . . .499 . . . 498 . . .) is a long time.
I have one tiny chance for a break. There is some writing work available. The problem is that, with everything stalled, there is a glut of writers right now. But I am asking you now, if you can, send good thoughts that I get that writing work, because I am really feeling that coronavirus stress now.