I’ve been in sequestration for long enough, my paranoia is finding new forms. My faith in the munificence of others is diminished, and my distrust and unease is growing.
For those of us observing shelter-in-place, we’ve been unplugging from the world and losing touch with how things are going out there. We usually rely on being out in it, among it, surrounded by it, sticking our sniffers in the air and telling how the wind is blowing, putting our ear to the ground to locate the herd, calling out to find our tribe. All of that social glue is gone.
And we’re getting paranoid and afraid — at least those of us who live alone. Me? I’m feelin’ it bad. I don’t feel whole.
At least astronauts on the ISS have each other and an entire support org on the ground. At least inmates in solitary confinement have guards bringing food trays and checking on them. At least mountain hermits have chores, hunting, and can go into town for supplies.
This? I have telemediated relationships now. Everything through text, webcam, and voice.
I can’t wait to hug somebody.