Like many Americans I’ve been sheltering at home since early March. As a natural introvert I knew I’d be able to handle a few weeks hanging out a home, but after six weeks with no end in sight, even I’m surprised at how well I’m doing.
My hair has grown past my shoulders for the first time in ten years. It’s officially more grey than brown and I don’t care. In fact, I’m struggling to remember the last time I washed it, focusing instead on the novelty of wearing a ponytail again. I don’t wear any clothing that requires any fastening with buttons or zippers. My makeup and jewelry cases are gathering dust. My diet consists mostly of pizza, chocolate, cheese and beer. My stress levels have dropped significantly now that I no longer feel pressure to be part of society, and I now binge-watch TV shows with no FOMO. I’m free to be me without guilt.
That being said, I realize that a lot of extroverts out there that are really struggling from the lack of human contact. I wish you well, and share your hope that this lockdown ends soon. That might seem contradictory to what I just wrote, but I’ve learned that life is like a rollercoaster: just when you feel like you’re on top of the world, you’re plunged screaming into the abyss. For once I’d like to jump out at the top, climb down to the ground and enjoy a soft pretzel. Here’s hoping we can enjoy that pretzel together.
And if not, check back in a month for my next post, “Quarantine Week 10: There’s Something Moving Behind the Yellow Wallpaper.”