Covid fatigue: (not) precisely defined (by me) as exhaustion from worries connected to the pandemic, things ranging from but not limited to the impending fear of the world shutting down to the occasional mandatory quarantining of your family due to cases at school. It's all the things that we think about that used to be idiosyncratic or entirely off our radar.
Instead of just making sure I have my keys, wallet, phone, and kids when I leave my house. Now, "if" I go out, my mental checklist is long and includes hand sanitizer, masks for everyone, back up masks, a pen (in case I have to sign something and don't want to touch a "public pen"), and maybe even a drink/snack (so I don't have to stop while I'm out). Then I second guess myself for overthinking!
You get the idea...Covid fatique.
Our brains are tired. Every day we hear about new cases. It seems like every phone call, email, and text centers around this virus and pandemic life—the constant discussion of Covid.
When will it end?
Are vaccines our light at the end of the tunnel? When will they be ready? Whether you're racing to get your hands on a vaccine, maybe on the fence questioning if there's been extensive enough testing, or you're dreading the idea entirely, vaccines are in the forefront of our consciousness. Will we even have a choice?
Then the more mundane questions: to travel or not to travel? Host family for the holidays? Which friends to see? Where to see them? Restaurants? Sit inside, outdoors, or not at all? What activities are safe for your kids? Virtual or live school? Do you let your kids run wild in a public playground? Birthday parties? The list could go on.
For the past nine months and counting, every decision, even the most simple, requires a safety calculation and risk tolerance assessment. How risky is this activity? Is it necessary? How long after the activity, will I worry that someone will get sick?
Everybody evaluates things differently, and at different times each of us may feel differently ourselves. I have a friend who is totally comfortable getting on a place and traveling to Mexico but refuses to get a pedicure. Comfort levels vary for each individual according to their own calculations of risk/reward. There have been times when living like a hermit seemed like the only option for me. Other times I felt more comfortable dipping my toe into everyday life again.
Despite this, as numbers go up and things feel less safe, I find myself questioning every choice again, mulling over the possible exposure and whether I could potentially harm a loved one by attending an event.
Despite pressure to be part of the world, the better safe than sorry approach nags at me, pulling me back, reminding me to continue the lonely slog of the risk-averse, slink back into my shell for just a little longer until things become safer.
Thankfully I still feel connected to loved ones and friends, finding meaningful and safe ways to spend time together. I am grateful for all the blessings I have, and while this isn't easy for anybody, we are all managing, trucking along, day by day until this pandemic is over, mask on, sanitizer spritzed, trying to stay bright.