There is pain that uses you, and pain that you use.

COVID-19 brings up a lot for me. Feelings of anger. sadness. loneliness.

Gratitude.

It’s a lot of highs, and it’s a lot of lows. And I spend my days trying to find my grounding.

But then I open Twitter and Instagram. I see how fucked everything is. All over the world. People dying. Healthcare workers risking their lives. Shortages of food, ventilators, and masks. Then, i’m angry.

Friends reach out to me to schedule video chats but I can’t bring myself to accept that the reality now is connecting through a screen. A screen that I see as a barrier of the big unknown: I don’t know when I can hug you again. See you again. Then, i’m sad.

I scroll through my phone, thinking of texting or calling someone. I don’t want to text or call them because of a crisis. I want to text or call them, because I still love them and miss them. But really, i’m wondering why they haven’t yet. Then, I feel lonely.

My partner comes into my office and surprises me with California poppies. I look outside the window and the sun is shining, mother earth looks happy. Despite me self isolating from my refusal to embrace a virtual way of doing relationships, people are always reaching out telling me they love me, that they are here when i’m ready, and that they are only a video chat away. The farmer’s market is open and farmers are ensuring the safety of shoppers. I got paid and I see in my bank account, I can afford all of my bills until June. I open Twitter and Instagram and I see other’s rallying in their anger. sadness. loneliness. Raising funds. Advocating for healthcare worker’s rights. Then, I feel gratitude.

Pain used me a lot in my past. I did everything I could to numb out. A lot is coming up for me and i’m so relieved, that I am at the very least strong enough not to relapse into old ways.

I no longer soothe myself with drugs, I now soothe myself with breath.

And I have never been more grateful for my breath. To be alive is to feel, after all.